Chapter 6 - the burnt ledger in the study
The dinner concluded without another incident, but by midnight, the tension inside the mansion had reached a boiling point.
Bianca stormed into Vittorio’s study, slamming the heavy mahogany door so hard the glass cabinets rattled. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and anger, her ruby gown rustling violently as she marched toward his desk.
"What was that stunt downstairs?" Bianca hissed, her voice dropping into a vicious whisper. "You tried to humiliate me in front of your captains!"
Vittorio sat calmly behind his desk, reviewing a stack of financial documents under the warm light of a green banker's lamp. He didn't even look up.
"If a simple painting humiliates you, Bianca, perhaps your conscience isn't as clean as you pretend," he said smoothly.
"Don't play games with me, Vittorio!" Bianca snapped, slamming her manicured hands onto his desk. "I hold your life in my hands! One call to Marcus Vance and the federal grand jury indicts you by sunrise!"
Vittorio set his fountain pen down with agonizing slowness. He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Call him," Vittorio said flatly.
Bianca blinked, stunned. "What?"
"Call Marcus Vance," Vittorio repeated, his tone so devoid of fear it sent a spike of genuine panic through her veins. "Tell him you have the encrypted drive. Tell him you're ready to trade my head for immunity."
Bianca reached into her designer handbag, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled out her encrypted cell phone. She dialed a number, holding the phone to her ear while glaring at Vittorio.
The line rang three times before an automated recording answered: The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
Bianca’s eyes widened. She redialed instantly. The same recording played again.
"Looking for your handler?" Vittorio asked softly, pulling a burnt piece of paper from his desk drawer and tossing it onto the wood between them.
May you like
Bianca looked down at the charred fragment. On it was a partial list of bank transfers made from Marcus Vance's personal account to an offshore entity in the Cayman Islands—transactions that had been exposed to the Internal Revenue Service three hours ago.
"Marcus Vance was arrested at O'Hare airport at 10:00 PM tonight," Vittorio murmured, leaning forward into the lamplight. "It turns out federal prosecutors aren't allowed to accept millions in offshore bribes from syndicate wives. Who holds the leash now, Bianca?"
