Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Blood
|
By noon, we were back at the Bellini estate, entering through the private subterranean garage to avoid the reporters who had begun circling like vultures outside the front gates.
Word of the canceled engagement party had already leaked across the city’s upper crust, sparking rumors of a massive rift within the Bellini empire.
We gathered in Marco’s private study on the third floor, a fortress of dark mahogany, bulletproof glass, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Daniel sat in a leather wingback chair, wearing a clean sweater and slacks that Marco had laid out for him.
He held a glass of bourbon in his hand, though he had barely taken a sip.
His hands were rough and calloused, bearing the marks of twenty-four months in a state penitentiary.
I stood near the door, uncertain of whether I should leave them alone, but Marco held up a hand to stop me.
“Stay, Olivia,” Marco said firmly.
“You are part of this room now.”
Daniel looked up at me, his gaze analytical but gentle.
“Helen told me on the phone before I walked out that you saved her life last night,” Daniel said softly.
“She said you stood between her and Susie like a lioness.”
“I just brought her a towel and some tea, Mr. Bellini,” I answered modestly.
“Don't call me Mr. Bellini,” Daniel offered a tired, genuine smile.
“That’s Marco.
Call me Daniel.”
Marco walked over to his massive mahogany desk and placed a thick, sealed manila envelope on the green blotter.
“Celeste is locked in the west wing guest house under armed guard,” Marco stated, his voice turning cold and calculated once more.
“Her phone was mirrored by my security team before she could wipe it.
We found three encrypted messages sent over the last forty-eight hours.”
Daniel set his glass down on the side table with a dull thud.
“Who were they to?”
“Her brother, Anthony Moretti,” Marco answered.
“And a man named Dominic Vance.”
Daniel’s face darkened instantly.
“Dominic Vance is the head of the port authority union.
He controls the cargo manifests on the Delaware River.”
“Exactly,” Marco nodded grimly.
“For two years, I thought our shipping company was losing freight due to increased federal inspections.
It wasn't inspections at all.
Dominic Vance was flagging our containers, allowing the Morettis to divert thirty percent of our high-value imports right off the docks.”
“And the money they stole from Daniel’s accounts?” I asked tentatively, stepping closer to the desk.
Both brothers turned to look at me.
I flushed slightly, realizing I had spoken out of turn, but Marco’s eyes were encouraging.
“Go on, Olivia,” Marco said softly.
“Well,” I swallowed my nervousness.
“If Celeste framed Daniel to cover the theft, where did all that money actually go?
Eighty million dollars doesn't just vanish into thin air.
She didn't spend it on dresses and jewelry.”
Daniel tapped his finger on the armrest.
“She’s right.
Susie was funneling that capital into an offshore shell company called Ironclad Holdings.
I found the routing numbers right before they locked me up, but the feds seized my laptop before I could print them.”
Marco opened the manila envelope and pulled out a stack of financial printouts that had just arrived from his forensic accountants.
“We just tracked Ironclad Holdings this morning,” Marco said, sliding the papers toward Daniel.
“It wasn't an investment fund.
It was a war chest.”
Daniel scanned the rows of numbers, his eyes widening with realization.
“Weapons,” Daniel whispered, horrified.
“Unregistered tactical rifles, body armor, and heavy ammunition purchased through European distributors and shipped through the port in containers stamped with our family crest.”
“She wasn't just planning to bankrupt us,” Marco said, the fury vibrating in his chest like an earthquake.
“She was arming an army right under our noses.
And she was planning to use our own docks to stage a full-scale assault on our territory.”
“When?” Daniel asked, leaning forward.
Marco looked at the calendar hanging beside his desk.
“Tomorrow night.
The midnight cargo shipment from Rotterdam.
She promised Anthony Moretti that I would be dead before the ship docked, leaving the Bellini empire leaderless and in total chaos.”
A chill crept down my spine.
If Helen hadn't braved that storm, if Daniel hadn't sent her to interrupt that engagement dinner, Marco would have been murdered within forty-eight hours, and Daniel would have been blamed from behind prison bars.
“What do we do now?” Daniel asked, looking at his older brother.
May you like
Marco reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a heavy black pistol, sliding the magazine into place with a sharp, metallic click.
“Now,” Marco said quietly, “we let Miss Warren think her plan is still on schedule.”
