Chapter 5 - The Hidden TruthUpstairs in the private quarters, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Adrian was seated in a leather armchair, staring blankly into the cold fireplace, while Elena sat on the edge of the sofa, holding a cup of chamomile tea that her hands were shaking too badly to drink. Mia was curled up asleep in the small adjoining bedroom, exhausted by the emotional turmoil of the morning.
“If my father was innocent,” Adrian said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual menace, sounding hollow and tired, “then why did he sign the execution order?”
“Because he couldn't afford to let the truth get out,” Elena answered, her voice cold and steady. “My father kept a duplicate ledger of every illegal wire transfer, every offshore account, and every bribe paid to customs officials during the 1990s. When your father realized my dad was keeping records, he panicked. He framed him for the missing millions, had him killed, and buried the evidence.”
Adrian looked up, his gray eyes piercing. “Where is the ledger?”
“I don't know,” Elena said honestly. “My father died before he could show it to anyone. I thought it was destroyed years ago.”
“It wasn't,” Adrian said grimly, standing up. “Because Dominic just intercepted a digital data packet sent from inside this estate to an IP address in Chicago—registered to your uncle, Marcus Vance.”
Elena gasped, dropping her teacup. It shattered against the hardwood floor, spilling dark liquid across the grain.
“Marcus?” she whispered, horror dawning on her face. “My uncle is here?”
“He’s not in the house,” Adrian replied, walking over to the window and looking out over the sprawling snow-covered lawns. “At least, not physically. But someone inside my organization is helping him. Someone who has access to the secure internal network.”
Elena’s heart skipped a beat as she remembered the night before. While looking for extra cleaning supplies in the west wing storage room, she had seen Salvatore Rizzi stepping out of the restricted archives holding an old, leather-bound book that looked suspiciously like a ledger.
“Mr. Moretti…” Elena started, stepping toward him.
Before she could finish her sentence, the heavy oak door of the apartment flew open.
Dominic stood in the doorway, pale and out of breath, clutching a blood-stained radio in his fist.
“Boss,” Dominic gasped, his eyes wide with panic. “We’ve been hit. The main server room in the basement has been compromised, and the eastern perimeter gates have just been rammed by an unmarked tactical truck.”
Adrian didn't hesitate. He drew his pistol from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber with a lethal, practiced flick of his wrist.
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“Lock down the upper residential wing,” Adrian commanded, his voice dropping into absolute war-mode. “Get Elena and the girl into the panic room behind my study. Nobody enters or leaves without my voice authorization.”
“Boss, you don't understand,” Dominic choked out, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead. “It’s not an outside attack. Salvatore… Salvatore has locked down the central command console. He’s taking over the syndicate.”
