Chapter 5 - The Ledger in the Mahogany Wall
Luca carried me up the private spiral staircase leading to his personal master suite on the fourth floor.
The fourth floor was an impenetrable fortress of reinforced steel doors, biometric locks, and soundproof oak paneling where no domestic staff had ever been permitted to enter.
He placed me gently on the massive leather sofa in his study and immediately poured two glasses of scotch from a crystal decanter.
"Drink it," he ordered, handing me the glass with his steady, calloused hand. "It will dull the pain until Dr. Russo can reset that fracture properly."
I took a sip of the amber liquid; it burned my throat like liquid fire, but it stopped the violent shivering in my chest.
Downstairs, the estate was coming alive with the sound of security sirens and Luca’s tactical units sweeping the grounds for remaining assassins.
"The Bellinis didn't act alone," Luca said, pacing across the room like a caged panther.
"A hit team of that caliber requires insider access to my security codes and our exterior motion sensors."
"Vanessa had access to your office laptop," I said quietly, the scotch loosening my tongue.
Luca stopped his pacing and turned to face me, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"My office laptop is encrypted with a twenty-four-character alphanumeric key that rotates every twenty-four hours."
"She didn't copy your files from the office, Mr. Moretti," I said, leaning forward despite the throbbing ache in my wrist.
"When I was cleaning the music room two weeks ago, I noticed something strange about the mahogany paneling behind the grand piano."
Luca walked over to the desk, his eyes narrowing. "What did you see, Grace?"
"The third wooden rose carved into the baseboard was polished cleaner than the rest," I explained.
"Dust settles in the deep grooves of hand-carved wood within forty-eight hours, but that specific rose had zero dust."
"Someone was pressing it daily."
Luca stared at me for several long seconds, his expression shifting from suspicion to grim realization.
"My father’s original architectural blueprints included a concealed mechanical safe in the music room wall."
"I thought the previous owners sealed it twenty years ago when the estate was renovated."
"Vanessa knew about it," I said. "When she slammed the piano lid on my hand, she was reaching toward that exact section of the wall to hide the black flash drive."
Luca grabbed his coat from the desk chair and checked his weapon.
"We are going down there right now."
"The house is still under security lockdown, sir," I warned, standing up gingerly.
"The house belongs to me, Grace, and no one threatens my life or harms my staff under my own roof," he said, holding the door open for me.
We took the private elevator straight down to the ground floor, bypassing the banquet hall where forensic teams were bagging evidence.
The music room was dark and silent, smelling faintly of old varnish, expensive roses, and stale perfume.
The grand piano stood in the center like a silent black beast, its lid still propped open where my blood had stained the ivory keys.
Luca knelt beside the mahogany wainscoting behind the piano bench, inspecting the wooden carvings with a small tactical flashlight.
Sure enough, the third carved rose had faint smudges of crimson lipstick near its lower petal.
Luca placed his thumb against the center of the wooden flower and pressed firmly inward.
With a faint mechanical hiss of compressed air, a four-inch panel popped outward, revealing a dark, steel-lined cavity.
Inside lay a black leather-bound ledger, a bundle of burner cell phones, and three identical high-speed external hard drives.
Luca pulled the ledger out and flipped through the handwritten pages under the flashlight beam.
His jaw hardened into granite as he scanned the rows of numbers and dates.
"This isn't just about Julianna Rossi," Luca muttered, his voice trembling with icy rage.
"What is it, Mr. Moretti?"
Luca looked up from the ledger, his dark eyes reflecting the harsh white beam of the flashlight.
"Enzo Bellini has been laundering cartel money through the city port authority using my father’s old offshore accounts."
"They planned to execute Julianna, plant her body in my private shipping container at terminal four, and leak the synthesized recording to the FBI."
"The wedding was designed to merge our corporate holdings so Vanessa could take legal control of the Moretti shipping lines the moment the federal marshals arrested me."
I leaned against the piano, cold sweat prickling my forehead.
"They planned this for months."
"Years, Grace," Luca corrected, closing the ledger with a sharp thud. "They planned this since the day my father died."
He looked at the external drives, then turned his gaze toward me, studying my face with an intensity that took my breath away.
"If you hadn't dropped that carving fork tonight, I would have signed the joint registry documents before midnight."
"I would have handed them the keys to my empire and walked straight into a federal penitentiary."
"I only did my job, Mr. Moretti," I said softly, my voice breaking under the weight of exhaustion.
Luca stepped closer, his tall silhouette blocking the dim light of the doorway.
He reached out with his left hand, his warm, rough fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead.
"You did far more than your job, Grace Parker."
"You took a blow meant to ruin you, you stood your ground against thirty armed men, and you saved my empire."
Before I could answer, his tactical radio chimed on his chest with sudden urgency.
Marco’s breathless voice broke through the speaker:
"Boss, we have a major problem at terminal four."
Luca pressed the button on his lapel. "Report, Marco."
"The federal agents are already at the gate with a search warrant for container 804."
"Someone tipped them off twenty minutes ago that Julianna Rossi's body is inside."
Luca’s eyes flashed with lethal determination as he looked at the hard drive in his hand.
"Marco, assemble the strike team at the south garage."
"We have twenty minutes to reach the docks before the feds break the container seal."
He slipped the ledger into his coat, turned to me, and held out his uninjured hand.
"Grace, you are coming with me."
"To the docks, sir? I am just a maid."
May you like
Luca’s grip on my good hand tightened, warm, protective, and completely unyielding.
"Not anymore, Grace."
