Chapter 3 - The Broken Ledger
Dr. Harrison stepped out of the guest suite at nine o'clock, pulling off his medical gloves and throwing them into a plastic bag. His face was grim, lined with deep worry.
“She’s stabilized, Dom,” Dr. Harrison said, keeping his voice down as we walked down the wide hallway. “Severe dehydration, low blood sugar, and soft-tissue bruising on her wrists and ankles. She’ll recover physically, but another twenty-four hours in that damp cellar without water... her kidneys would have failed.”
“And the girl?” I asked.
“Harper is sleeping beside her,” Harrison replied. “I gave them both a mild sedative. They need rest, Dom. Real rest, without people asking them questions.”
I handed Harrison an envelope stuffed with cash. “Thank you, Doc. Forget you were here today.”
“I’m an emergency doctor, Dom, not a cop,” Harrison said, taking the envelope and slipping it into his coat pocket. “But whoever put that young woman down there isn't just cruel. They wanted her out of the way long enough for something big to happen.”
He walked down the grand staircase, leaving me alone in the quiet corridor.
I walked into the private study at the end of the east wing. The room was massive, lined with dark walnut bookshelves, heavy leather armchairs, and a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that overlooked the snow-covered grounds of the estate.
I walked straight to the wall behind my desk, swung back an original oil painting, and exposed the steel face of the digital safe.
The LED panel was green.
I typed in my master code, heard the heavy steel bolts disengage, and pulled the safe door open.
Inside, three black leather-bound ledgers rested on the top shelf. These weren't standard corporate tax books. They contained the true financial records of my entire empire—offshore holding accounts in Grand Cayman, private political bribes, shell company ownership papers, and the names of every high-ranking officer on my payroll across three states.
I pulled the middle ledger out and opened it to the current year.
Pages forty-two through fifty-eight had been neatly cut out with a sharp blade.
Those were the pages containing the private trust accounts registered in my daughter’s name—the accounts managed jointly by me and Nathan Cross.
My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Marcus’s name on the screen.
“Talk to me, Marcus,” I said, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Boss, we checked the perimeter security logs like you asked,” Marcus said, his voice tense over the line. “On Tuesday night at two in the morning, a black sedan entered through the service gate. The gate sensor read Nathan’s master pass card.”
“Did you get footage from the driveway camera?”
“That’s the problem, Boss,” Marcus replied. “The driveway cameras were put on a ten-minute loop from 02:00 to 02:15 AM. Whoever drove that car knew how to override the security mainframe in the guardhouse.”
“Who was on guard duty in the security room at two in the morning?” I asked, my voice cold as ice.
Silence hung on the line for three seconds.
“Daniel,” Marcus whispered.
My throat went completely dry.
Daniel had been with my security detail for six years. I had paid for his daughter’s leukemia treatments. I had bought his family a house in Jersey City. He was one of the two men I had taken down into the cellar with me this morning to break Mia free.
“Where is Daniel right now?” I asked calmly.
“He’s stationed at the main gate, Boss,” Marcus said. “Do you want me to bring him in?”
“No,” I said, looking out the study window at the heavy snow starting to fall over the driveway. “Don't move a muscle. Don't let him know we know. I’m coming down to the gatehouse myself.”
I ended the call, opened my desk drawer, and pulled out a second handgun—a small, silver snub-nosed revolver. I slipped it into my coat pocket, locked the study door behind me, and headed toward the front courtyard.
As I crossed the marble foyer, Nathan appeared from the dining room, holding a glass of iced water.
“Where are you going, Dom?” Nathan asked, his voice friendly, his eyes tracking my movements.
“Going to clear my head,” I said without stopping. “I’m taking a walk to the front gate.”
May you like
Nathan smiled, set his water glass down on a marble side table, and reached into his jacket.
“I’ll come with you,” Nathan said softly. “It’s cold out there, brother. You shouldn't walk alone.”
