Chapter 12 - The Ledger of Blood and Stone
By midday, three industrial disposal vans were parked along the circular driveway of the Rossi estate.
Workers in gray overalls moved in and out of the grand front entrance under Luca’s watchful supervision.
Every piece of furniture, every silk drape, and every personal item belonging to Audrey was being loaded into crates.
Victor stood on the second-floor gallery overlooking the entrance hall, his hands clasped behind his back.
The antique vanity in the guest dressing room had been dismantled and removed down to the bare floorboards.
The carpets had been stripped away to expose the original dark oak planks, ready for professional sanitization.
Marta walked up the sweeping staircase, dressed in a tailored navy skirt suit Sylvia had ordered for her that morning.
She carried a brass ring of keys that controlled every supply room, linen pantry, and private chamber in the residence.
"Mr. Victor," Marta said softly, pausing two paces away with her hands folded respectfully.
"You don't need to stand on ceremony with me, Marta," Victor said, turning to face her with a warm smile.
"This is your home now, just as much as it is ours."
"The contractor arrived for the north guest wing," Marta reported, adjusting a file folder under her arm.
"They will begin renovating the suite for my daughter, Emilia, tomorrow morning."
"She received her transfer acceptance letter from the university medical program in the city an hour ago."
"She will be living under this roof by the end of next month."
Victor nodded, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction settle in his chest.
"Emilia will have the finest education this country can offer, Marta," Victor said.
"And she will never have to worry about where her next semester's tuition comes from."
"How is my mother doing with the afternoon therapy?"
"She walked across the garden solarium with only her cane ten minutes ago," Marta said, her face breaking into a radiant beam.
"Dr. Reyes says her motor reflexes are returning faster than anyone expected."
"The poison kept her muscles locked in chronic fatigue, but the heart itself has exceptional resilience."
"She is in the library right now, reviewing the domestic payroll."
Victor smiled, shaking his head gently at the stubborn, unyielding nature of his mother.
Even after six months of chemical warfare, the matriarch could not endure being separated from her ledgers.
Victor walked down the grand staircase and pushed open the heavy oak doors of the private library.
The room smelled of old leather bindings, pipe tobacco, and fresh white chrysanthemums.
Sylvia sat behind the massive mahogany desk, wearing a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
A brass desk lamp cast a warm, golden glow across stacks of legal folders and property deeds.
"You're hovering, Victor," Sylvia said without looking up from the paper she was signing.
"I’m not hovering, Ma," Victor said, walking over and sitting in the leather armchair opposite the desk.
"I’m making sure you aren't overworking yourself on your first full day out of bed."
Sylvia set down her gold fountain pen, removed her glasses, and looked at him with piercing, affectionate eyes.
"Work is what keeps the blood moving, boy," Sylvia said, tapping the desk with her index finger.
"When you lie in a bed waiting for someone to bring you a glass of water, that is when you begin to die."
"I spent six months listening to that viper whisper about how useless I had become."
"I will not spend another single minute sitting like an invalid in the corner."
Victor reached across the desk and placed his hand over hers, feeling the steady, rhythmic pulse in her wrist.
"The district attorney called before I left the downtown courthouse," Victor said gently.
"They want your formal deposition regarding Audrey's conduct in the sickroom."
Sylvia’s expression hardened, the gentle mother vanishing behind the stone mask of the syndicate matriarch.
"I will give them every word, every minute, and every drop of water she poured on my rug," Sylvia said.
"And when they put her on the witness stand, I will sit in the front row of the gallery so she has to look me in the eye."
May you like
"She wanted my family's legacy, Victor."
"I am going to make sure she spends the next twenty-five years staring at a gray cinderblock wall."
