Chapter 7 - The Boston Ledger
Twelve hours later.
The private jet touched down at Logan International Airport amidst a swirling blizzard that had closed two of the three main runways.
I sat in the rear leather seat of the Gulfstream, staring out the window at the grey, ice-choked tarmac. Opposite me sat Clara and Ellie, both wrapped in thick cashmere blankets provided by my flight crew. Ellie was fast asleep, her small head resting on her mother's lap, her one-eyed bear tucked under her arm.
Clara was looking at a thick legal dossier Agent Miller’s team had compiled during the four-hour flight from Long Island.
"He's powerful, Vincent," Clara whispered, her eyes filled with worry. "Harrison Vance isn't just a corporate executive. He sits on the board of three national medical foundations. He donates millions to senators. The federal prosecutors in Boston are hesitant to execute a search warrant on his estate without undeniable proof."
"We have the proof, Clara," I said, my voice quiet, flat, and colder than the storm outside. "Your husband gave us the ledger. Dante gave us the offshore accounts. And I have eighty-four families who deserve an answer."
The cabin door hissed open, allowing a blast of freezing winter air into the plane.
Frank Miller, my head of personal security—a man who had served my father for thirty years and whom I had recalled from retirement five hours ago—stepped into the aircraft, wiping snow from his black wool coat.
"The convoy is ready, Boss," Frank said, his voice deep and gravelly. "Agent Miller’s federal team is waiting at the gate. Harrison Vance is currently inside his penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton overlooking Boston Common. He’s holding a private fundraising dinner for his new pediatric foundation."
I stood up, adjusting my dark wool overcoat, pulling my leather gloves onto my hands.
"Vincent," Clara said, standing up quickly, her hand catching my coat sleeve. "Please... don't do anything that will send you away. Ellie and I... we need you."
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve, then at little Ellie sleeping peacefully under the cashmere blanket.
For seven years, I had believed my life was a closed book, a tragedy waiting for its final, quiet page. But looking at this woman and her child, I realized that Sofia hadn't left me alone in an empty house. She had left me with a duty—a final wish to fulfill.
May you like
"I'm not going anywhere, Clara," I said softly, pressing my gloved hand over hers. "I'm going to finish what David started."
I stepped off the plane into the freezing snow, Frank falling into step behind me as we walked toward the line of black armored SUVs waiting on the tarmac.
