Chapter 4 - THE HIDDEN LEDGER
The foyer fell dead silent, the wailing sirens outside suddenly feeling a million miles away.
Luca didn't take the phone from his uncle immediately. He stared at Silas, his brilliant, tactical mind connecting the dots. Vanessa. Dante. The fire. The empty suitcase. And Silas standing there, holding the ransom call, perfectly composed while the house burned.
"Put it on speaker," Luca commanded.
Silas hesitated for a fraction of a second, his silver eyes flashing with annoyance, before pressing the button.
"Luca," a raspy, heavily accented voice echoed through the marble foyer. Dante. "I see you haven't burned to death. A shame."
"If you touch a single hair on my daughter's head, Dante, I won't just kill you. I will dismantle everything you have ever loved," Luca promised, his voice devoid of emotion, which made it all the more terrifying.
Dante chuckled, a wet, ugly sound. "Big words for a man whose castle is currently crumbling. I don't want to hurt the girl, Luca. I just want what's mine. The family ledger. The one your father kept. The one with all the offshore accounts, the judge's bribes, the shipping manifests. Give it to me, and I give you the girl."
"I don't have it," Luca said. "My father died before he could pass it down."
"Liar!" Dante barked, his patience snapping. "I know it's in that house! You have exactly one hour to bring it to the old rail yard on 4th Street. Come alone. Or the little princess takes a permanent nap."
The line went dead.
Luca stood perfectly still, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were bone-white.
"You heard him, Luca," Silas said smoothly, slipping the phone into his pocket. "We must find the ledger. Your father must have hidden it somewhere. If we don't give it to him—"
"Shut up, Silas," Luca snapped. He turned to his head of security. "Carlo, lock down the estate. Nobody leaves. Not the guests, not the staff, and absolutely not my fiancée."
Vanessa let out a dramatic sob, sinking onto the bottom step of the staircase. "Luca, please! I had nothing to do with Dante! Silas told me to pack the money!"
Silas's expression hardened. "The woman is hysterical. She's trying to pass the blame to save herself."
I stepped back, watching the wealthy, powerful family tear each other apart. My hands were still shaking from the smoke and adrenaline. I looked past the arguing adults, my eyes scanning the chaotic foyer.
Through the archway leading to the formal living room, I saw her.
Teresa Moretti. Luca's mother.
Carlo had pushed her wheelchair into the safe zone away from the smoke. She was sitting there, completely ignored by the men making life-and-death decisions. But she was staring directly at me.
She raised her frail, shaking hand and pointed a single, crooked finger toward the massive, floor-to-ceiling oil painting of her late husband—Luca's father—that hung over the living room fireplace.
I remembered what she had whispered to me at the dining table. Not... upstairs.
"Mr. Moretti," I said, stepping forward. My voice was quiet, but it cut through the shouting.
Luca turned to me, the anger in his eyes softening slightly, replaced by a desperate trust. "What is it, Hannah?"
"Your mother," I said, walking toward the living room. "I think she knows where it is."
Luca and Silas followed me. Luca knelt beside his mother's wheelchair. "Mom? Do you know where Dad hid the ledger?"
Teresa's lips trembled. She looked at Silas, a deep, profound hatred burning in her elderly eyes. Then she looked back at the painting and nodded.
Luca stood up. He walked to the massive oil painting, feeling along the ornate gilded frame. He found a hidden latch on the bottom right corner. With a sharp click, the entire painting swung outward on hidden hinges, revealing a heavy, steel wall safe.
Silas took a step forward, his breath catching in his throat. This was what he had been looking for.
Luca punched in a six-digit code—his daughter's birthday. The safe beeped and the heavy metal door clicked open.
Luca reached inside.
He froze.
He slowly pulled his empty hand out and turned to face us.
The safe was empty.
"It's gone," Luca whispered.
"Impossible," Silas hissed, losing his refined composure. He pushed past Luca, staring into the empty steel box. "It has to be here!"
I looked at Silas. He was too desperate. If Silas had orchestrated the kidnapping with Vanessa and Dante, he wouldn't be this shocked. He wanted the ledger, but he didn't have it.
Which meant someone else had beaten them to it.
I looked down at the floor, processing the clues. As my eyes swept across the Persian rug beneath the painting, I noticed something odd.
A small cluster of dried, reddish-brown dirt.
It wasn't mud from the driveway. It was red clay.
My mother was an avid gardener, and she had taught me everything about soil. The Moretti estate had manicured green lawns and gravel driveways. There was only one place on the entire fifty-acre property that had red clay soil.
The abandoned, glass-domed greenhouse at the far edge of the woods. A place no one had maintained in over a decade.
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, pointing to the dirt. "Whoever took the ledger didn't leave the property. They're still here."
Silas looked down at the dirt, his eyes widening in sudden, terrifying realization.
Before anyone could stop him, Silas pulled a suppressed handgun from his tailored suit jacket and aimed it directly at Luca's chest.
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"I'm sorry, nephew," Silas said coldly. "But if Dante doesn't get that ledger, he's going to release the evidence of my embezzlement to the Commission. I can't let you interfere."
He pulled the trigger.
