Chapter 6 - BOX 402
The betrayal tasted like ash in my mouth.
Tony hadn't been a hostage. He hadn't been forced to deliver the burner phone under duress. He had willingly walked into the penthouse, used the excuse of bringing my purse, and unlocked the service doors on his way out. He had sold me, and a five-year-old child, to a cartel butcher to clear his gambling debts.
"He was like a father to me," I whispered, the tears finally falling. "When I was broke, he paid my rent. Why would he do this?"
"Because in this city, desperate men do desperate things," Dante said quietly, his voice lacking any judgment, only cold reality. He took the phone back and slipped it into his pocket. "Tony thought he could play both sides. Now, he’s a loose end. And the people Silas works for will realize soon enough that their enforcer is dead."
Dante made three phone calls. Within ten minutes, heavily armed men—Dante's loyalists—flooded the penthouse. They moved with terrifying efficiency, securing the perimeter and cleaning up the glass and the body.
Dante walked over to me. He had changed into a clean black suit, looking every inch the untouchable kingpin again.
"We need to know what Isabella died to protect," Dante said. "The bank opens at 8:00 AM. I’m leaving Sophia here with Marco, my head of security. I need you to come with me."
"Why me?" I asked, wiping my eyes.
"Because the key is registered to a numbered account. I don't know the alias she used, but you might notice something I won't," Dante replied.
I nodded. I kissed Sophia on the forehead, promising her I’d be right back, and left her watching cartoons under the protective watch of Marco, a giant man who looked like a mountain but smiled gently at the little girl.
The morning sun was just breaking over Manhattan, casting long, golden shadows across the concrete. We took a different car—an unassuming silver sedan.
We arrived at the First Ashford Bank in the financial district right as the doors unlocked.
The bank manager, a nervous, sweating man, took one look at Dante and immediately escorted us to the subterranean vault.
"Box 402," Dante said, handing over the brass key.
The manager used his master key in tandem with ours. The small brass door popped open.
Dante reached inside and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box.
He opened it.
Inside wasn't cash. It wasn't diamonds.
It was a small, black encrypted USB flash drive. And sitting right next to it was a folded piece of heavily stained paper—a ledger page torn from a notebook.
Dante unfolded the paper. As he read it, the color completely drained from his face.
"What is it?" I asked, stepping closer.
"It’s a ledger of payoffs," Dante whispered, his eyes scanning the names. "The cartel wasn't trying to muscle into my territory from the outside. They were already inside. Isabella found out."
Answer One, Open Two. Isabella hadn't stolen money. She had stolen proof of a massive internal betrayal.
"Who is on the list?" I asked.
Before Dante could answer, the heavy steel doors of the vault room clanged shut behind us.
The bank manager was gone.
Standing in the doorway, blocking our only exit, were two men in dark suits holding suppressed automatic weapons.
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And standing between them, trembling but holding a revolver, was Tony.
"I'm sorry, Clara," Tony said, tears streaming down his weathered, exhausted face. "I'm so sorry. But I need that drive. They have my wife."
