Chapter 13 - Blood at the Table
Salvatore Moretti looked like the kind of man who would compliment your wine while quietly deciding whether you deserved to survive dessert.
He stepped into the archive without raising his voice.
That somehow made him more frightening.
Lucian moved in front of me.
“Your men won't make it past Gideon.”
Salvatore smiled.
“Gideon is currently occupied outside.”
Lucian's expression didn't change.
Mine probably did.
Salvatore noticed.
“Relax, Miss Delaney. I didn't come here to hurt anyone.”
“People who say that usually shouldn't bring six armed men.”
His smile widened.
“I see why my nephew likes you.”
Lucian's voice turned cold.
“What do you want?”
“The trust amendment.”
“You already knew what it contained.”
“I knew rumors. Your father hid the signed original before his death. Without it, the council's authority could always be challenged.”
“And now?”
“Now we have certainty.”
Salvatore held out his hand.
Lucian didn't move.
“Your father built an empire through discipline,” Salvatore continued. “Then you spent ten years modernizing it. Lawyers. Compliance officers. Federal partnerships. Public companies.”
“You say that as though legitimacy is a disease.”
“I say it as though you forgot what kept this family alive.”
Lucian laughed once without humor.
“Fear kept it alive. Fear also buried my parents.”
Something flashed in Salvatore’s eyes.
Gone instantly.
I noticed.
So did Lucian.
“Interesting,” I murmured.
Both men looked at me.
I folded my arms.
“You reacted when he mentioned his parents.”
Salvatore's expression hardened.
“Harper.”
Lucian's warning was quiet.
But I was already watching Salvatore.
“You knew something about their deaths.”
Salvatore took one step toward me.
Lucian moved faster.
The gun appeared in his hand.
Every armed man in the room raised his weapon.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Take another step toward her,” Lucian said, “and this family trust becomes the least important document in Chicago.”
For several seconds, no one breathed.
Then footsteps thundered from the stairs.
Gideon's voice.
“Drop them!”
Red laser sights flooded the archive.
Salvatore's men suddenly found themselves surrounded from behind.
Salvatore slowly looked toward Gideon.
“You've always been loyal.”
Gideon’s face was granite.
“To Lucian.”
Salvatore nodded.
“Alessandro always did choose his dogs carefully.”
Lucian's hand tightened around his weapon.
Gideon didn't react.
That was when I remembered Lucian's father's letter.
Trust the man who protects without asking to be praised.
Gideon.
Salvatore had seen the letter too.
He understood.
Lucian seemed to reach the same conclusion.
“My father knew someone inside the family was a threat,” he said.
Salvatore sighed.
“Your father became sentimental.”
“Did you kill him?”
The question dropped into the room like a grenade.
Salvatore looked almost offended.
“No.”
“Did you know who did?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Lucian stepped forward.
“Who?”
Salvatore looked at him.
“For all your intelligence, nephew, you still think the world is divided into killers and victims.”
“Answer me.”
“Your father was preparing to expose financial arrangements that would have destroyed half the old families in Chicago. Romano. Caruso. Bellandi. Men with politicians, judges, union officials, and bankers in their pockets.”
“Who planted the bomb?”
“I don't know.”
“Who authorized it?”
Another pause.
“I know who financed it.”
Lucian's face became terrifyingly still.
Salvatore looked toward the shelves.
“There is a blue ledger somewhere in this room. Your father recorded everything. Accounts. Payments. Names. Dates.”
I scanned the shelves.
No blue ledger.
“You couldn't find it,” I said.
Salvatore looked at me.
“No.”
“That’s why you needed Lucian.”
His smile returned.
“Very good.”
I walked toward the desk.
Lucian caught my wrist.
“Harper.”
“I'm thinking.”
The room's dimensions bothered me.
Again.
I looked at the archive walls.
The permit showed a five-foot cavity.
But the archive itself was only four feet narrower than the library above.
One foot remained missing.
I walked to the back wall.
Shelves.
Photographs.
A framed architectural elevation of Bellini House.
I lifted it.
Behind the frame was a shallow recess.
Empty.
Salvatore cursed quietly.
Then I saw something strange.
The dust outline inside the recess was rectangular.
Something had been stored there recently.
“It was here,” I said.
Gideon examined it.
“Removed within the last few weeks.”
Salvatore stared at Lucian.
“I didn't take it.”
Lucian looked at him.
For the first time, uncle and nephew shared exactly the same expression.
Someone else had found Alessandro Moretti's ledger before either of them.
A phone rang.
Not mine.
Not Lucian's.
Salvatore pulled his phone from his coat.
He read the message.
All color drained from his face.
Lucian noticed.
“What happened?”
Salvatore turned the screen.
A photograph filled it.
The Halcyon penthouse.
Our bedroom.
My emerald engagement ring box sitting on the nightstand.
May you like
Beneath the photograph were six words.
THANK YOU FOR LEAVING THE HOUSE EMPTY.
