Chapter 15 - The Two-Million-Dollar Lie
Lucian did not shout.
That frightened me.
He simply looked at Salvatore as if the man standing in our bedroom had suddenly become a stranger.
“Two million dollars,” Lucian said.
Salvatore raised both hands.
“I didn't authorize that payment.”
“Your initials.”
“Anyone could write initials.”
“Your authorization code.”
“I haven't used that code in twenty years.”
Lucian took one step forward.
Gideon quietly positioned himself between them.
Not enough to challenge Lucian.
Enough to prevent a mistake.
Salvatore noticed.
“So this is what Mason wanted,” he said.
Lucian's eyes sharpened.
“To frame you?”
“To turn us against each other.”
I looked back at the ledger images.
Something bothered me.
The writing looked genuine.
The numbers looked genuine.
But I had spent my career staring at drawings, revisions, copied details, and reproduction artifacts.
“Zoom in.”
Gideon looked at me.
“The payment page.”
He enlarged it.
“More.”
Pixels filled the screen.
I leaned closer.
“There.”
“What?”
“The paper.”
Lucian stepped beside me.
I pointed.
“Every scanned page has tiny stains near the binding. Water damage. Dust. Age.”
I moved between images.
“Page eighty-four. Stain.”
Next.
“Page eighty-five. Same stain.”
Next.
“Page eighty-six.”
The transaction page.
No stain.
Salvatore slowly smiled.
“It's fake.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or replaced.”
Lucian looked at Gideon.
“Digital forensics.”
“Already sending it.”
Salvatore exhaled.
“I told you.”
Lucian remained cold.
“You also admitted knowing who financed my parents' murder.”
“I said I knew where the money moved.”
“That's not better.”
Salvatore looked suddenly tired.
He walked toward the windows.
“In 2001, your father discovered a private network laundering money through Midwestern freight companies. Not street criminals. Wealthy men. Banks. Investment firms. Political donors.”
“Vantage Capital?” I asked.
Salvatore looked at me.
“Later. Vantage became useful years afterward.”
Kyle.
My stomach dropped.
“That's why Romano had financial connections there.”
“Yes.”
Lucian stared at his uncle.
“And you?”
“I was trying to keep Alessandro alive.”
“By doing what?”
“By convincing him to stop.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer carried something close to regret.
“Your father believed truth protected good men. I told him truth simply tells bad men where to aim.”
Lucian's jaw tightened.
“What happened four days before the bombing?”
Salvatore looked at him.
“I moved two million dollars.”
Silence.
Lucian's eyes went lethal.
“You just said—”
“Not for a murder.”
Salvatore reached inside his jacket.
Gideon raised his weapon.
Salvatore stopped.
“An old bank receipt.”
Gideon removed it himself.
The paper was yellowed and folded.
Salvatore handed it to Lucian.
“I paid two million dollars to a federal intermediary who claimed he could put your parents into protective custody.”
Lucian read it.
“What intermediary?”
“A prosecutor named Daniel Mercer.”
Gideon's head snapped up.
“I know that name.”
Lucian looked at him.
“Who?”
“Retired U.S. Attorney. Became private counsel for Hale Equity Partners.”
Mason Hale.
My blood went cold.
Salvatore nodded.
“The night before Alessandro was supposed to disappear with your mother, Mercer told us the protection plan had changed.”
Lucian went still.
“What happened?”
“Your parents drove to a restaurant in River North.”
“The bomb.”
“Yes.”
Lucian turned away.
I could see the nineteen-year-old boy beneath the billionaire.
The boy who had been handed an empire because his parents never came home.
I moved beside him.
He didn't look at me.
But his fingers found mine.
Gideon's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked toward us.
“Digital team finished preliminary analysis.”
“Say it,” Lucian ordered.
“The ledger payment page was fabricated.”
Salvatore closed his eyes.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Gideon looked troubled.
“The metadata says the forged image was created three months ago on a workstation registered to Moretti Logistics.”
Lucian turned.
“Mason.”
“Probably.”
“Where is he?”
“His car was found abandoned near Navy Pier.”
I frowned.
“Abandoned?”
Gideon nodded.
“Blood on the driver's seat.”
Salvatore looked toward Lucian.
“You see?”
“No,” Lucian said.
“What?”
Lucian's gaze settled on the Chicago skyline.
“Mason isn't running.”
I understood a second later.
“He wants us to think somebody silenced him.”
Lucian nodded.
“This entire thing is theater.”
I looked at the hidden camera.
The forged ledger.
The stolen archive.
The threatening invitation.
Someone had carefully moved every piece into position.
“Then what's the final act?” I asked.
Lucian's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Turn on the news.”
The call ended.
Gideon switched on the television.
A breaking-news banner filled the screen.
FEDERAL INVESTIGATION TARGETS MORETTI LOGISTICS.
Then another line appeared beneath it.
LEAKED DOCUMENTS ALLEGE MONEY LAUNDERING, BRIBERY, AND INTERNATIONAL RACKETEERING.
Lucian stared at the television.
I stared at him.
May you like
Someone wasn't trying to kill Lucian Moretti.
They were trying to erase everything he had built.
