Chapter 4 - The Accountant's Ledger
The heavy silence left in Julian Gallo's wake felt heavier than the storm outside had been the night before.
Dominic didn't chase after him, but the muscle ticking along his jawline betrayed the coiled fury beneath his calm exterior.
"He thinks he's untouchable because he holds the family books," Dominic muttered, turning on his heel and walking back toward his study.
"If Julian wanted the server room accessed last night, he wouldn't do it himself," I said, following closely behind him into the dark-paneled room. "He would use a proxy—someone small enough to slip through the cracks, or someone whose debts he controlled."
Dominic stopped beside his desk and turned around slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Go on."
"Think about it," I said, leaning against the edge of the mahogany table. "You spent all morning listing the high-level clearance holders. But who actually cleans the server room? Who delivers the maintenance reports? Who has access to the basement corridors when everyone is asleep?"
Dominic's expression shifted as the logical puzzle pieces clicked into alignment. "The night shift maintenance crew. Specifically, a contractor named Miller."
"Let's look at Miller's financial records," I suggested, tapping the screen of the digital tablet on the desk. "If Julian bought him off, there'll be a digital footprint somewhere—even a smart criminal leaves a paper trail when dealing with five-figure sums."
Dominic unlocked the terminal with a thumbprint scan, pulling up the estate's payroll and vendor accounts.
For the next two hours, we sat in total silence as I cross-referenced bank transfers, supplier invoices, and contractor disbursements against external shell company registries.
My background as a corporate accountant wasn't just useful here; it was a lethal weapon.
"Found it," I finally said, pointing a finger at a seemingly innocuous line item from three weeks ago.
"Show me," Dominic commanded, leaning over my shoulder.
"An emergency repair invoice for $42,000 paid to a dummy corporation registered in the Cayman Islands," I explained, highlighting the metadata. "The recipient account shares a routing number with a personal brokerage held under Julian Gallo's private holding company."
Dominic let out a low, dangerous laugh that sent a chill straight down my spine. "The bastard didn't even try to hide it well. He thought I wouldn't audit the maintenance ledger while mourning Lily's disappearance."
"Because he assumed Lily wouldn't survive the alley," I added quietly. "If she died of exposure or blood loss, the investigation would have stalled, and Julian would have quietly consolidated power while you tore the city apart looking for her killers."
Dominic straightened up, his hand reaching for the encrypted desk phone. "I'm going to have him brought down to the basement cells right now."
"Wait," I said, putting my hand over the receiver to stop him. "If you snatch him now without hard proof of where Lily was taken before the alley, he'll lawyers up and claim it was a legitimate business transaction."
"What do you propose, Arthur?" Dominic asked, his eyes burning with intensity.
"We set a trap," I said, a daring plan forming in my mind. "We let Julian think his plan is still moving forward. We leak a fake security report saying the basement server room is undergoing unscheduled maintenance tonight, leaving the eastern gate unmonitored."
Dominic stared at me for a long moment, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "You have a ruthless streak for an accountant."
"Desperation breeds creativity, Mr. Rosetti," I replied evenly.
We spent the rest of the afternoon setting the pieces in motion, leaking the fabricated security vulnerability through a secure internal channel known only to Julian and his inner circle.
By late evening, the mansion settled into an eerie, deceptive calm.
I sat in the dim hallway outside Lily's bedroom, the heavy wool sweater I had given her draped over my lap like a talisman.
At precisely 2:15 AM, the soft click of a basement door unlatching echoed faintly through the ventilation system.
May you like
Someone was moving through the restricted lower corridors.
I stood up silently, slipping my hand into my jacket pocket where Dominic had insisted I carry a silenced Beretta, and crept toward the service stairs.
