Chapter 5 - The Hidden Hand
Flames erupted into the night sky, painting the harbor in a violent shade of orange and crimson. The explosion tore through the cargo hold, scattering burning papers and twisted metal across the pier.
Leandro coughed, pushing himself up from the soot-stained concrete. He looked around frantically, searching through the dense billows of black smoke. “Daphne! Mom!”
“We’re here! Over here!” Daphne’s voice rang out through the smoke, coughing as she helped Estelle steady herself. Neither of them appeared seriously injured, though Estelle’s elegant gown was ruined, covered in ash and soot.
Leandro turned back to where he had pinned Maribel, but the space was empty. Amidst the chaos of the explosion and the spreading fire, his mother had vanished into the smoke-choked labyrinth of the docks.
“She’s gone,” Daphne said, walking up beside him, wiping soot from her forehead. She pointed down at the ground near the edge of the ship. “She dropped this while running.”
Leandro picked up a charred, half-burned ledger that had fluttered out of Maribel’s coat pocket. The flames had consumed most of the pages, but one name remained distinctly visible near the bottom of a financial transfer sheet, stamped with a private notary seal.
Leandro’s blood ran cold.
“It wasn't just the Morettis,” Leandro murmured, staring at the name in disbelief.
“Who is it?” Estelle asked, stepping closer, her face hardened by exhaustion and rage.
“Julian Cross,” Leandro said, the name dropping like a lead weight.
Daphne’s eyes widened. “The head of the internal oversight committee? The man who swore an oath to protect the council from corruption?”
“The very same,” Leandro said, clenching the charred ledger in his fist. “Maribel didn’t act alone. She was a pawn in a much larger coup designed to dismantle the Vane syndicate from the inside out. Cross has been buying up our capos one by one.”
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Estelle crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “If Cross has the committee in his pocket, walking into the council chambers tomorrow morning will be walking into an execution chamber.”
“Then we don’t wait for them to judge us,” Leandro said, turning toward their waiting vehicles. “We take the fight straight to their doorstep.”
