Chapter 4 - THE LEDGER
Rocco’s face went rigid. Frankie, standing by the door, suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.
“Mia, why don’t you go show Frankie your drawing,” Rocco said smoothly.
“He doesn’t understand art,” Mia grumbled, but she took her paper and trudged over to the bodyguard, who solemnly accepted the drawing of the hellhound.
Evelyn stood up, her heart hammering. “What secret picture?”
Rocco ran a hand over his face. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out a faded Polaroid. He didn’t hand it to her; he placed it on the desk.
Evelyn leaned in. It wasn’t a picture of her. It was a picture of her father, Thomas, standing in front of the carriage house. Beside him was a younger, vibrant man Evelyn recognized instantly from the news archives. Rocco’s father, Giovanni Ventresca. They were smiling. They looked like best friends.
“Your father wasn’t a pawnbroker,” Rocco said quietly. “He was my father’s accountant. The only man in the city clean enough to hide the money my father was desperately trying to make legitimate.”
Evelyn felt the floor tilt. Her dignified, strictly-by-the-book father? “That’s a lie. My father restored historical artifacts.”
“He did both.” Rocco stepped closer. The scent of sandalwood and clean laundry washed over her. “My father was trying to leave the life. He was buying up legitimate properties to secure a safe future for me and Luca. Your father was keeping the ledgers.”
Evelyn stepped back, bumping into the heavy leather sofa. “And then he was murdered.”
“Yes. And a month later, your father died of a ‘sudden heart attack.’” Rocco’s gray eyes were fierce. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Evelyn. The map in the watch led to your shop. The receipt proves they were doing business. I think your father hid my father’s final ledger somewhere in your carriage house.”
Before Evelyn could process the shock, the office door flew open.
A man in a sharp pinstripe suit strolled in. He was older, with slicked-back silver hair and a cruel smile.
Rocco stepped instinctively in front of Evelyn, shielding her.
“Uncle Carmine,” Rocco said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
Carmine ignored him, his eyes landing on Mia. “Look at my beautiful great-niece. A shame she has to grow up in such an unstable home.”
Rocco’s fists clenched. “Get out.”
“I’m just here to remind you about the waterfront deal, Rocco,” Carmine sneered. “You sign those warehouses over to my associates, or I take my concerns about your ‘parenting’ to a family court judge. A single man, running a violent syndicate? No judge will let you keep the girl.”
He tipped his hat and walked out.
May you like
Evelyn stared at Rocco, horrified. “He’s using Mia to blackmail you?”
“He wants the legitimate businesses to fund his old-school debts,” Rocco said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. “If I don’t find that ledger to prove my father transferred ownership of everything to a trust for Mia... Carmine will take her from me.”
