Chapter 6 - The Secret Ledger
The silence in the dining hall was so absolute you could hear the hum of the crystal chandelier overhead.
Capo Salvatore—a massive man with a scarred cheek who controlled the docks—slowly stood up from his chair, his eyes darting between Lorenzo and Elena.
"Boss?" Salvatore muttered, his hand resting near his belt. "We were told... we were told you didn't survive the ambush."
"Clearly, my enemies were misinformed," Lorenzo replied smoothly, pulling out the chair directly opposite Elena. He didn't sit down; he leaned his hands against the polished mahogany, his dark eyes locked onto his sister. "Isn't that right, Marco?"
Marco’s face was pale, sweat beading along his hairline. He didn't answer. He knew the game was up the moment he saw Lorenzo standing upright.
Elena slowly recovered her composure, her fingernails digging deep into the wooden armrests of her chair. The mask of mourning vanished, replaced by the venomous fury of a cornered viper.
"You arrogant bastard," Elena hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "You should have died in that courtyard."
"And missed my own succession party?" Lorenzo smiled coldly. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a heavy, leather-bound ledger onto the center of the table—the very ledger we had recovered from the underground vault the night before. "You've been skimming from the shipping docks for three years, Elena. funneling money through offshore accounts in Cyprus to fund independent hit squads. You thought I didn't know?"
Salvatore picked up the ledger, flipped through the handwritten pages filled with transaction codes and signatures, and his expression darkened into thunderous anger.
"These are docks my men bleed for," Salvatore growled, slamming the book down on the table and glaring at Elena. "You sold us out to the federal tax division just to build your own private war chest?"
"It’s a forgery!" Elena screamed, standing up from her chair, her diamond necklace flashing under the lights. "He’s trying to steal the family from under you! Kill him! What are you waiting for?!" she yelled at Marco.
Marco drew his pistol, leveling it directly at Lorenzo’s chest.
Before Marco could pull the trigger, three red laser dots appeared simultaneously on his forehead, his throat, and his chest.
From the high balcony surrounding the dining hall, invisible snipers had their crosshairs locked onto every traitor in the room.
Marco froze, his finger hovering over the trigger. He slowly looked up toward the gallery, then back at Lorenzo.
"Drop it, Marco," Lorenzo said softly. "Before I let my men turn you into Swiss cheese."
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Marco's pistol clattered against the marble floor.
Salvatore and the other capos immediately drew their weapons—not at Lorenzo, but at Elena and Marco, surrounding them in a tight, inescapable circle of steel.
