Chapter 6 - The Ledger of Betrayal
The heavy steel slide of the Glock reflected the golden glow of the crystal chandelier.
Nobody moved.
Nobody drew breath.
Uncle Antonio’s bushy gray eyebrows knit together into a terrifying scowl.
Vincent jumped to his feet, knocking his mahogany chair backward onto the hardwood floor with a deafening crash.
"Dom, put that away!" Vincent screamed, his hands held high, palms out.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"We’re your family, for Christ’s sake!"
Julian, however, did not flinch.
He slowly lifted his eyes from the pistol and met my gaze in the gilded mirror.
The nervous tremor in his neck was completely gone, swallowed by an icy arrogance.
"You think I did this, Dominic?" Julian asked smoothly, tilting his head.
"I’m the CFO of Moretti Holdings."
"I brought our commercial profits up forty percent this past quarter."
"Why would I need to destroy a harmless woman who was already out of the picture?"
"Because she found the paper trail," a deep, gravelly voice thundered from the head of the table.
We all turned toward Uncle Antonio.
The old man pushed his steak knife into the center of the wooden table until the tip stuck into the grain.
He stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a long, jagged shadow across the dining hall.
"Sit down, Vincent," Antonio barked without looking at my brother.
Vincent swallowed hard and righted his chair, dropping back down like an obedient dog.
"Antonio," I said, my hand resting firmly on the grip of my gun.
"What do you know?"
Antonio reached into the breast pocket of his double-breasted woolen blazer.
He pulled out a slim, encrypted flash drive encased in brushed aluminum.
He slid it across the mahogany table until it clicked against the barrel of my gun.
"Three months ago, our port security in Galveston intercepted an unauthorized customs container," Antonio began, his voice gravelly and heavy with age.
"It was labeled luxury automotive parts originating from Veracruz."
"It wasn't car parts."
"It was twenty military-grade sniper systems and five hundred kilograms of uncut fentanyl belonging to the Sinaloa cartel."
My eyes narrowed dangerously.
"The Moretti family does not touch synthetic narcotics," I stated coldly.
"That has been law since my father took the seat."
"I know the law," Antonio growled.
"That’s why I didn't report it to you immediately."
"The shipping manifest didn't come from my terminal managers."
"It was authorized under a dormant corporate subsidiary called Helios Maritime."
Antonio’s gaze shifted like a laser beam directly onto Julian.
"A subsidiary created six years ago."
"Registered to a private shell corporation in the Cayman Islands."
"And signed by the former vice president of Moretti Holdings."
The air in my lungs turned into liquid nitrogen.
"Madison," I whispered.
"Exactly," Julian interjected, a triumphant smirk cutting across his sharp lips.
"Madison was the signatory on Helios Maritime."
"She didn't run because she was innocent, Dominic."
"She ran because she was building her own cartel distribution line right under your nose."
"She used your infrastructure, set up the shell, and when the Sinaloa deal went sour, she panicked and took the fall."
"That's why the accounts were seized."
"She tried to double-cross the Mexicans, and they used the Feds to wipe her out."
Julian leaned back, spreading his arms wide as if laying out an open-and-shut case.
"I didn't frame her, Dominic."
"I cleaned up her mess to keep the Department of Justice from raiding this very house."
"The black sedan you saw today was my team keeping surveillance on a loose end who could still drag this entire empire into federal prison."
His explanation was slick, polished, and airtight.
It sounded so rational, so corporate, so logical that a weaker man would have believed every syllable.
Except for one detail.
"Helios Maritime," I said softly, stepping closer to Julian until the barrel of my Glock hovered an inch from his temple.
"Yes," Julian said, his voice tightening slightly.
"Madison never used the name Helios for anything," I whispered, the cold rage vibrating through my vocal cords.
"Helios was the name of my father's first yacht."
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"The only person in this family who ever obsessively used that name for personal security contracts was you, Julian."
Julian’s smile finally cracked, exposing the hollow terror underneath.
