Chapter 9 – THE GHOST IN THE LEDGER

The air in the hallway suddenly felt freezing.

The blood on our hands belongs to the Parkers.

I stared at the delicate, looping handwriting. My mother’s maiden name was Parker. Elena was a Parker. I was a Parker.

I shoved the diary and the note deep into the pocket of my sweater just as Dominic walked out of the dining room.

“Emily?” he asked, noting my pale face. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I lied smoothly, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “Just… a little tired. I’m going to go sort out some laundry in my room.”

Dominic looked at me closely, but he nodded. “Take the rest of the week off. Seriously. You’ve been through hell.”

I hurried to the servant’s quarters on the first floor. I locked my door and sat on my small twin bed, pulling the diary from my pocket. It had a tiny brass lock holding it shut.

I grabbed a bobby pin from my nightstand and spent ten agonizing minutes twisting it inside the lock. Finally, with a soft click, it gave way.

I opened the book. The pages were filled with Maria Romano’s neat handwriting, dating back twenty-five years. It detailed the early days of the Romano empire. The shipping routes. The bribes. The territory wars.

But as I flipped toward the middle, my eyes caught a familiar name.

Arthur Parker.

My father.

My father had died in a factory fire when I was only two years old. My mother always told us it was a tragic electrical accident. It was the reason we grew up with nothing, struggling to survive while she raised three kids alone.

I read the entry dated October 14th, 2001.

“Anthony did what he had to do,” Maria had written. “Arthur Parker refused to sell the warehouse district to our associates. He was going to the police. I told Anthony to handle it quietly. We didn’t know Arthur was still inside the building when the boys lit the match. God forgive us. We built our entire shipping empire on the ashes of that poor man’s livelihood. If Elena ever finds out we killed her father, she will take my grandson and run.”

Tears blurred my vision. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop the sob from tearing out of my throat.

My father wasn’t killed in an accident.

He was murdered. By Anthony Romano.

And they had used my sister, Elena, keeping her in the dark while she fell in love with the son of the man who burned her father alive.

The warmth I had felt for this family just ten minutes ago turned into ash. They hadn’t just saved Toby. They were the reason Toby and I were orphans in the first place.

A heavy knock on my bedroom door made me jump.

“Emily?” It was Anthony’s voice, raspy and gentle. “Sweetheart, are you in there? I wanted to give you something.”

I wiped my eyes furiously and shoved the diary under my mattress. I stood up, smoothing my clothes, and unlocked the door.

Anthony stood there, leaning on his cane, holding a beautiful, velvet jewelry box.

“This was Maria’s,” Anthony said, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “She always said she wanted Elena to have it. Now, it belongs to you.”

He opened the box. Inside was a breathtaking diamond necklace.

I looked at the diamonds, then up at the fragile, smiling old man who had given the order to burn my father alive.

“Thank you, Mr. Romano,” I whispered, taking the box.

“You’re family now, Emily,” he smiled.

As he turned to walk away, I looked down at the diamonds. They looked exactly like broken glass.

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