Chapter 6 - THE BLACK LEDGER
Dominic wanted Clara hidden inside the mansion.
Clara wanted to go to Grand Central.
Neither got what they wanted.
By the time Dominic's men reached the station, Ellen, Raymond, and Father Thomas were gone.
But they had left one thing behind.
A locker key taped beneath a bench.
Inside the locker was Ellen's purse.
Her wallet.
Her phone.
And a handwritten note addressed to Clara.
Clara read it in Dominic's study.
Sweetheart,
If you're reading this, everything I spent fourteen years hiding has finally caught us.
I am sorry.
Your father and I wanted you to have an ordinary life.
Maybe that was our greatest lie.
Don't come looking for me until you understand what he left you.
Do not open the Red Hook vault with Dominic alone.
Ask him what happened on October 17.
If he tells you the truth, you may trust him.
If he lies, run.
Love you more than every life I've lived,
Mom.
Clara looked up.
Dominic stood across from her.
"What happened October seventeenth?"
He didn't answer.
Her stomach tightened.
"Dominic."
Enzo quietly left the room.
Dominic poured whiskey into a glass.
He didn't drink it.
"October seventeenth was the night my father died."
Clara waited.
"That's not the whole answer."
"No."
Dominic stared at the amber liquid.
"I was there."
Clara's breath caught.
"You saw it?"
"Not exactly."
He set the untouched drink down.
"My father called me to a warehouse in Brooklyn. I was seventeen."
"You said you were fifteen when I knew you."
"Two years later."
Dominic walked toward the fireplace.
"He told me someone had betrayed the family. He had a name but wouldn't give it to me."
"Why?"
"Because I was angry. Young. He knew I'd go after the person myself."
Clara could easily imagine that.
"What happened?"
"Carlo sent me outside when Michael arrived."
"My father was there?"
"Yes."
Clara's fingers tightened around Ellen's letter.
"I heard them arguing."
"About what?"
"Money. Accounts. Salvatore."
Dominic closed his eyes.
"Then there was a gunshot."
Clara stopped breathing.
"I ran inside."
"What did you see?"
"My father on the floor."
"And my dad?"
"Gone."
Her face drained.
Dominic continued before she could speak.
"I thought Michael shot him."
"You thought my father murdered yours?"
"For eight months."
"Until my father's car crash."
"No."
Dominic looked at her.
"Until thirty minutes after Carlo died."
Clara waited.
Dominic's voice became quieter.
"My father was still alive."
She stared.
"He said three words."
"What words?"
"'Michael saved you.'"
Clara's eyes filled.
Dominic nodded.
"That's when I understood Michael hadn't killed him."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"What happened to my father that night?"
"He disappeared."
"You never found him?"
"Not until his death in Cleveland."
Clara looked at her mother's warning.
"Why would Mom ask whether you told me this?"
"Because she knows I've never told anyone outside my family."
"Why hide it?"
"Because if people believed Michael killed Carlo, your parents had a better chance of staying hidden."
Clara slowly understood.
"You let people think my dad was a murderer to protect him."
"I was seventeen."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"And I did what my mother told me."
Clara looked toward the door.
"Isabella?"
"Yes."
The pieces shifted.
Isabella had known far more than she'd admitted.
"Your mother helped my family disappear."
Dominic nodded.
"Apparently."
Clara laughed bitterly.
"Does anyone in this house tell the truth before being threatened?"
"Rarely."
She almost smiled.
Then she folded Ellen's note.
"We go to Red Hook."
"Tomorrow."
"Now."
"Clara—"
"My mother specifically told me to understand what Dad left."
"You were shot forty-eight hours ago."
"And Costa isn't taking the week off while my ribs heal."
Dominic stared at her.
She stared back.
Finally he sighed.
"You are exhausting."
"You married me."
"Strategically."
"Then strategically push my wheelchair."
The Bell Star warehouse stood near the Brooklyn waterfront.
From outside, it looked abandoned.
Inside, it was anything but.
Steel reinforcement.
Motion sensors.
A hidden elevator.
The key from Clara's music box fit a panel behind an old electrical box.
The elevator descended.
Dominic, Clara, Enzo, and four guards entered a basement chamber surrounded by concrete.
At the center stood a vault.
A keypad illuminated.
Clara looked at Dominic.
"Combination?"
"Try your birthday."
She did.
Rejected.
"Your mother's?"
Rejected.
Clara thought.
Her father loved puzzles.
Then she remembered what he always said whenever she got frustrated with math homework.
Numbers lie unless you know what they mean.
She looked at the music box.
The melody.
"Moon River."
The movie had been released in 1961.
She entered 1961.
A green light appeared.
Enzo blinked.
"Your dad enjoyed theatrics."
"Apparently he should've been in your business."
Clara turned the key.
The vault opened.
Inside were dozens of boxes.
Documents.
Hard drives.
Photographs.
Cash.
And a black leather binder.
Clara stared.
"The ledger."
Dominic approached carefully.
He opened it.
The first page contained names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Politicians.
Judges.
Detectives.
Executives.
Union leaders.
Some were marked with red symbols.
Enzo whispered, "Jesus."
Dominic turned pages.
His face grew colder.
Payments connected Costa businesses to murders going back twenty years.
Then Clara saw a familiar name.
Salvatore Rossi.
Multiple transfers.
Dominic kept reading.
Each payment had a notation.
S.R. IDENTITY MIRROR — M.E. CONTROLLED.
Salvatore had told the truth.
Michael had used his identity as cover.
Dominic turned another page.
Thomas Marchetti.
Real transfers.
Direct payments.
Millions.
Clara felt the room tilt.
"Father Thomas betrayed your father."
Dominic didn't answer.
The next page contained a handwritten memo from Michael.
T.M. is not the top.
C. trusts him, but Thomas answers to someone inside the family.
If Carlo confronts them too early, he dies.
Clara whispered, "There's someone above Thomas."
Enzo turned another page.
A page had been ripped out.
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Someone got here before us."
"No."
Clara pointed at the torn edge.
"That's old."
The paper had yellowed.
Her father had removed it himself.
"Where's the missing page?"
No one knew.
Then Clara noticed a small envelope taped inside the back cover.
Her name was written across it.
CLARA.
Her hands shook.
Dominic stepped away.
"This is yours."
Clara opened it.
Inside was a letter from her father.
My little star,
If you're old enough to read this, I probably failed to come home.
I'm sorry.
There are things fathers should never leave their daughters.
Fear.
Debts.
Enemies.
I may be leaving you all three.
But I am also leaving you the truth.
Your mother will protect you better than I ever could.
Trust her.
Trust Isabella Rossi if she is still alive.
Trust Salvatore, even if the evidence tells you not to.
And if Carlo's son Dominic has become a man by the time you read this, judge him by what he does when protecting you costs him something.
Do not trust Thomas Marchetti.
Most importantly, the final page is not here.
I gave it to the only person no one would dare search.
Clara stopped.
Dominic read over her shoulder.
"The only person no one would dare search."
Enzo whispered, "Isabella."
Dominic turned.
Then every light in the vault went red.
An alarm sounded.
One of the guards shouted from the corridor.
"Movement upstairs!"
Gunfire erupted.
Dominic pulled Clara behind a concrete pillar.
Enzo drew his weapon.
"They tracked us."
"No," Dominic said.
His eyes went to the vault.
"They knew we'd come."
A blast shook the ceiling.
Dust rained down.
Clara's wounds screamed.
Dominic covered her body with his.
The elevator doors opened.
A grenade rolled into the corridor.
"DOWN!"
The explosion knocked two guards off their feet.
Smoke filled the chamber.
Through it came armed men wearing masks.
Costa's soldiers.
Dominic fired.
Enzo fired beside him.
The basement exploded into chaos.
Clara crawled toward the ledger.
A masked man saw her.
Raised his weapon.
Clara froze.
Dominic was too far away.
A shot cracked.
The masked man fell.
Clara turned.
Salvatore stood in the stairwell holding a pistol.
"Move!"
He ran toward her.
Dominic's face changed.
"How did you find us?"
"Later!"
Another wave of gunfire.
Salvatore dragged Clara behind the vault door.
Dominic covered them.
Within minutes the attack ended.
Three Costa men dead.
Two escaped.
One Rossi guard wounded.
Salvatore leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
Dominic pointed his gun at him.
"How did you know?"
Salvatore looked at Clara.
"Because I put a tracker in her music box fourteen years ago."
Clara stared.
"You what?"
"Michael asked me to."
"Why?"
"In case your mother ever had to run."
Dominic's weapon remained raised.
"Who else knew?"
"No one."
Then Salvatore looked at the vault.
His face lost color.
"The ledger."
Clara clutched it.
"Safe."
"Not that."
He moved toward the open door.
"The second compartment."
Dominic frowned.
"What second compartment?"
Salvatore reached beneath the bottom shelf.
A hidden panel was open.
Empty.
His expression collapsed.
"They took it."
"What?"
Salvatore looked at Dominic.
"Michael's recording."
Clara whispered, "What recording?"
"The night Carlo died."
Dominic went still.
Salvatore's voice dropped.
"Your father wasn't murdered without a witness."
He looked at Clara.
"Michael recorded everything."
"And who had it?"
May you like
Salvatore answered.
"Until five minutes ago, we did."
