Chapter 6 - THE HIDDEN LEDGER
The grinding scrape of metal inside the deadbolt was the loudest sound I had ever heard.
Bruno immediately raised Isabella’s pearl-handled revolver, aiming it directly at the center of the heavy iron door. His hands were shaking, but his stance was rigid.
Isabella scrambled backward, pressing herself against the far wall. I threw my arms around Lily, pulling her off the armchair and pushing her behind my legs, shielding her small body with my own.
Click.
The deadbolt disengaged. The heavy iron door swung open slowly, the hinges protesting with a long, agonizing creak.
A tall figure stepped into the dim light of the suite.
It was Marco.
His black trench coat was still dripping rainwater onto the floorboards. In his right hand, he held a suppressed tactical pistol, pointed toward the floor. In his left hand, he held a thick, leather-bound book.
The ledger.
“Put the gun down, Bruno,” Marco said. His voice was flat, devoid of adrenaline, as if he were discussing the weather rather than walking into a standoff.
“You betrayed him,” Bruno snarled, the gun wavering slightly in the old man’s grip. “You stole Elena’s ledger. You’ve been working for Vincent Romano this whole time.”
Marco didn't raise his weapon. He slowly kicked the iron door shut behind him and leaned back against it.
“If I was working for Vincent, the three of you would be bleeding out on the Persian rug right now,” Marco said tiredly. He tossed the leather-bound ledger onto the dust-covered sofa next to Isabella.
Isabella flinched away from it like it was a live explosive.
“I didn't steal the ledger to give it to Vincent,” Marco continued, his cold eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. “I stole it three years ago to keep Alessandro from doing something stupid.”
I frowned, keeping my grip tight on Lily. “What do you mean?”
“When Carmine Moretti died, Alessandro was grieving and reckless,” Marco explained. “He wanted to tear the Commission apart to find out who really ordered his mother’s death. If he had found that ledger back then, he would have started a war he wasn't ready to win. I took it. I held onto it until he had the manpower to back up the threat.”
“So why bring it back now?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Marco looked down at the suppressed pistol in his hand, then back up. “Because Vincent Romano just executed three of our guards in the foyer. The talking is over. Alessandro is pinned down in the dining room with five men. He’s outgunned. We need leverage, and we need it five minutes ago.”
Downstairs, the muffled, rapid-fire pop-pop-pop of automatic weapons tore through the estate, rattling the crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the suite.
Lily let out a sharp, terrified cry, burying her face into my apron.
“We have to get the ledger to Alessandro,” Bruno said, lowering the revolver slightly. “It’s the only way to force Vincent to stand down.”
“Alessandro doesn't want the ledger,” Marco said grimly. “He gave me a direct order. I am to take the three of you down the servant’s escape shaft to the river garage and get you on a boat out of the city. Alessandro is staying behind to hold Vincent off so you can escape.”
My heart stopped.
He’s staying behind.
“No,” I whispered, the word tearing from my throat. “No! He’ll be killed! He’s sacrificing himself so we can run?”
“He’s doing his job as the Don,” Marco said, his voice hardening. “And as a father. Now move. The escape shaft is behind the wardrobe.”
“I’m not leaving him!” I yelled, stepping away from the wardrobe. The timid, quiet housemaid I had been for four years vanished in that instant. I was not going to let the father of my child die alone on a marble floor while I ran away in the dark.
“Rosa, be reasonable,” Marco snapped, stepping toward me.
“Take Isabella!” I pointed at the terrified blonde woman. “Get her and the baby out of here! But I am not leaving Alessandro to die for a war he didn't start!”
Suddenly, the heavy iron door behind Marco shuddered violently.
Boom.
Someone had kicked it from the outside.
Marco spun around, raising his pistol. Bruno stepped in front of me again.
“Open the door, Marco!” a voice roared from the stairwell. It was Vincent Romano. “I know she’s in there! Bring me my daughter, or I burn this entire wing to the ground with all of you inside!”
Marco cursed under his breath. He looked at the heavy deadbolt, which was holding firm, but the wooden frame around it was beginning to splinter.
“He brought breaching charges,” Marco hissed, pointing to the bottom of the door where a faint wisp of gray smoke was leaking through the crack. “Get into the escape shaft. Now!”
Marco grabbed the heavy oak wardrobe and pulled it sideways, revealing a dark, narrow chute built into the stone wall. It led straight down to the basement levels.
“Isabella, go!” Marco ordered.
Isabella didn't hesitate. She scrambled into the dark chute, disappearing into the shadows.
“Rosa, take the child and go,” Bruno pleaded, gently pushing my shoulder.
I looked at the splintering door. I looked at the leather ledger sitting on the sofa. And then I looked at my daughter’s tear-streaked face.
If we went down that chute, we would survive. But Alessandro would die. Vincent would take over the estate, and we would spend the rest of our lives running from assassins.
I couldn't run anymore.
“No,” I said.
I let go of Lily’s hand, grabbed the heavy leather ledger from the sofa, and walked directly toward Marco.
“Rosa, what the hell are you doing?” Marco demanded.
“I’m ending this,” I said, my voice eerily calm.
Before Marco or Bruno could stop me, I reached out and unlatched the deadbolt.
I pulled the iron door open.
Vincent Romano stood on the landing. He was a massive, terrifying man, holding an assault rifle, flanked by two armed soldiers.
When he saw me—a maid in a stained apron—his eyes narrowed in cruel confusion.
“Where is Isabella?” Vincent snarled, raising the rifle.
I didn't flinch. I held up the leather-bound ledger, right in front of his face.
“She’s gone,” I said, my voice ringing clear and steady in the dusty stairwell. “But I have the one thing you care about more than your daughter’s life.”
Vincent’s eyes locked onto the leather book. The arrogance drained from his face instantly, replaced by a naked, visceral panic.
“Elena’s ledger,” Vincent breathed.
“Tell your men to lower their weapons, Vincent,” I said, stepping out onto the landing, standing between the mafia boss and the iron door protecting my daughter. “Or I drop this book down the stairwell to Marco, and he uploads every single page to the Commission before you can even pull the trigger.”
Vincent stared at me. Then, a slow, sickening smile spread across his face.
He didn't lower his weapon.
Instead, he looked past me, into the suite. His eyes landed on the small, trembling figure hiding behind the armchair.
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“Well,” Vincent laughed, a dark, terrifying sound. “You might have my ledger, little maid. But it seems I have found something much more valuable to Alessandro.”
Vincent raised his assault rifle, aiming it directly past me, straight at Lily’s chest.
