Chapter 10 – The Black Ledger
“Serena?” Roman stared at his former fiancée, utterly blindsided.
The four mafia bosses flanking the room didn’t look surprised at all. Don Carmine, a ruthless older man with a scarred jaw, gestured respectfully toward Serena’s chair.
“Ms. Vale called this meeting, Roman,” Carmine rasped, his voice like grinding stones. “She invited us here to discuss the transition of power.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, clutching Elena’s letter in my hand.
Serena wore a sleek black pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a sharp, perfect knot. Gone was the weeping, terrified victim who had begged for her life on this very floor a week ago. The woman sitting in the chair radiated absolute, chilling control.
“You’re supposed to be at the safehouse,” Roman said, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. He stepped toward her, but two heavily armed guards belonging to the Carmine family stepped into his path.
“The safehouse was lovely, Roman, really,” Serena smiled, taking a delicate sip of her wine. “But it was a bit isolating. I prefer to be where the real decisions are made.”
Roman looked at the bosses, then back at Serena. “What is this?”
“This is a hostile takeover, nephew,” Serena said smoothly.
I flinched at the word. Nephew. It was the exact word Dante had used.
Serena set her wine glass down. “Dante was a useful idiot. My father was a blunt instrument. But they both lacked vision. They were so busy fighting over territory that they didn’t realize I was the one managing the offshore accounts for the last five years.”
Roman’s eyes widened slightly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small piece of black leather—the encrypted ledger page we had found in Leo’s bear.
“You planted this,” Roman realized, staring at the leather. “You made sure my men found it in the bear. You wanted me to think Marcus was hiding it.”
“I needed you to believe the threat was neutralized,” Serena said, standing up gracefully. “I needed you to drop your guard so I could assemble the Commission without you interfering. That ledger page in your hand? It’s worthless. Just a decoy.”
Serena reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a thick, leather-bound black book.
The real ledger.
The four mafia bosses in the room stiffened, their eyes locked greedily onto the book. That ledger contained the blackmail, the routing numbers, and the buried secrets of every criminal syndicate on the East Coast.
“I control the finances now, Roman,” Serena declared, holding the book up. “And with Dante dead, I have the backing of the Commission. You are going to sign over the DeLuca shipping ports to me, or I will hand this ledger to the FBI and watch your entire empire burn to the ground.”
“You’re the mother of my child,” Roman said, his voice laced with absolute disgust. “You would destroy Leo’s legacy for money?”
Serena laughed, a cold, empty sound. “Leo was a pawn, Roman. My sister Elena was foolish enough to want a legitimate life with you, so I had her removed. I kept the boy alive solely for this exact moment—to force you to the table.”
I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
“You murdered your own sister,” I shouted, stepping fully into the room, holding up Elena’s letter. “Elena figured it out! She left a letter proving you sabotaged her car!”
Serena’s eyes snapped to me, narrowing with venomous hatred. “The little maid who became a princess. How adorable. It doesn’t matter what proof you have, Claire. The police are in my pocket. The Commission is on my side. You have nothing.”
“She has me,” a voice echoed from the hallway.
Sofia DeLuca walked slowly into the drawing room, leaning heavily on my father’s arm. The blind matriarch stood tall, her chin raised in defiance.
Serena rolled her eyes. “Go back to bed, Sofia. You’re outmatched.”
“Am I?” Sofia asked, a sharp, dangerous smile touching her wrinkled lips.
She let go of my father’s arm and took two steps forward, facing the general direction of the mafia bosses.
“Don Carmine,” Sofia called out. “How is your daughter, Isabella? Is she still enjoying the private chalet in Gstaad, funded by the Cayman account ending in 4-4-9-2?”
Carmine’s face went entirely white.
Sofia turned her head slightly. “Don Russo. I hear the federal tax evasion charges disappeared last year after a sudden wire transfer of three million dollars from a shell corporation registered in Malta. Account number 8-1-1-7.”
The room plunged into absolute, terrified silence.
Serena frowned, looking down at the black ledger in her hands. She opened it frantically, flipping through the pages.
Every single page was entirely blank.
“What is this?” Serena shrieked, dropping the empty book on the floor. “Where are the numbers?!”
Sofia laughed—a dry, victorious sound.
“Did you really think Dante was smart enough to keep a physical ledger that could be stolen?” Sofia mocked. “Dante was paranoid. He destroyed the physical books ten years ago.”
“Then how do you know the numbers?” Carmine demanded, stepping forward, his gun drawn.
“Because before he burned them, he forced me to read them to him,” my father, Thomas, spoke up. His sightless eyes stared blankly ahead, but his voice was full of iron. “Dante didn’t trust his own eyes. He made me memorize the entire ledger before he blinded me.”
My father tapped his temple. “And I spent the last ten years reciting those numbers to Sofia in the garden. She has a photographic memory.”
Serena backed away, true panic finally setting in. Her entire leverage was gone. She was standing in a room full of furious mob bosses with nothing to offer them.
Roman pulled his gun, aiming it directly at Serena’s chest.
“It’s over, Serena,” Roman said quietly.
Suddenly, Serena lunged toward the fireplace. She grabbed a heavy iron fire poker and swung it wildly, smashing the nearest window.
Before anyone could stop her, Serena scrambled through the shattered glass, fleeing into the dark gardens of the estate.
“Let her go!” Sofia commanded as Roman’s guards moved to pursue her. “She has nowhere to run. The Commission will hunt her down by morning.”
Carmine lowered his gun, looking at Sofia with a mixture of awe and absolute terror.
“The accounts, Sofia,” Carmine demanded softly. “What do you want for our secrets?”
Roman stepped in front of his grandmother, shielding her.
“We want out,” Roman declared, his voice echoing with finality. “The DeLuca family is done with the Syndicate. We keep our legitimate businesses. You leave my family alone. If any of you ever approach my sister, my grandmother, or my son again… Sofia will email the entire ledger to the Department of Justice.”
Carmine stared at Roman for a long, tense moment.
Then, slowly, the old mafia boss nodded. “You have a deal, Roman.”
The bosses turned and walked out, leaving the DeLuca family standing alone in the ruined drawing room.
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