Chapter 7 - THE LETTER OPENER AND THE LEDGER
Grant’s agonizing scream shattered the silence of the study.
His grip on my hair loosened instantly as his leg buckled beneath him. The suppressed pistol fell from his hand, clattering harmlessly onto the Persian rug.
I didn't wait. I violently shoved myself away from him, scrambling across the floor toward Lorenzo.
Lorenzo didn't hesitate. The moment I was clear, he raised the assault rifle and fired a single, deafening shot.
The bullet struck Grant cleanly in the right shoulder, spinning him backward. He crashed into the mahogany bookshelves, collapsing in a groaning, bleeding heap on the floor.
The heavy oak doors burst open again, and Marco rushed in, flanked by three heavily armed guards.
“Secure him,” Lorenzo barked, not taking his eyes off my husband.
Marco’s men instantly descended on Grant, roughly zip-tying his hands behind his back despite his gunshot wound, dragging him away from the wall.
Lorenzo lowered his rifle and rushed to my side, dropping to his knees. He grabbed my shoulders, his dark eyes scanning me frantically for injuries.
“Are you hurt?” Lorenzo demanded, his voice thick with a terrifying, protective panic. “Did he shoot you?”
I stared at him, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. The man checking me for injuries was the same man who had a file on my desk planning to sell my brother to a cartel.
I violently shoved his hands away, scrambling backward until my back hit the heavy desk.
“Don't touch me!” I screamed, tears of absolute fury and betrayal streaming down my face.
Lorenzo froze, confusion flashing across his sharp features. “Rebecca—”
“My name is Jessica!” I yelled, grabbing the manila folder from the desk and hurling it at his chest. The photographs of Caleb scattered across the floor like falling leaves. “You lied to me! You didn't save us! You’re paying the Cartel twelve million dollars to kidnap my brother!”
The room went dead silent. Marco and the guards stopped moving, staring at the scattered surveillance photos.
Lorenzo looked down at the pictures of Caleb, then back up at me. The terrifying Mafia Don didn't look angry. He looked profoundly, devastatingly sad.
“Jessica, listen to me,” Lorenzo said, keeping his voice low and steady, raising his hands slowly to show he was unarmed. “I didn't hire the Cartel to kidnap your brother.”
“The contract is right there!” I sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at the document on the floor. “It has your signature! You authorized twelve million dollars to the Santos Cartel for Caleb’s retrieval!”
“Yes,” Lorenzo nodded, his jaw tightening. “I authorized the payment. Because the Cartel already had him.”
The breath completely vanished from my lungs. “What?”
Lorenzo sighed heavily, picking up one of the photographs. “Three weeks ago, the Santos Cartel traced your mother’s old offshore accounts. They realized Caleb was the beneficiary of the trust. They found him in Seattle before I did. They took him.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head frantically. “No, you’re lying. You’re lying to manipulate me like Grant did.”
“I’m not lying,” Lorenzo said softly. “The Cartel knew I was hunting Grant for his unpaid debts to my syndicate. They contacted me. They offered me a trade. My money, in exchange for your brother’s life.”
He stepped closer, his dark eyes pleading with me to understand.
“I didn't authorize the twelve million to buy him, Jessica. I authorized it to ransom him. I was trying to buy Caleb back before they realized he didn't actually have the routing numbers to the trust.”
My mind spun, struggling to process the revelation. If Lorenzo was telling the truth, he wasn't selling Caleb. He was bankrupting his own syndicate to save a boy he didn't even know, just because he was my brother.
“Why?” I cried, the tears spilling over. “Why would you do that for me?”
Lorenzo looked at me, a fierce, undeniable vulnerability breaking through his hardened exterior.
“Because fifteen years ago, I couldn't save my own brother,” Lorenzo whispered, the old grief coloring his voice. “I swore I would never watch another family destroyed by this life if I had the power to stop it. I was going to secure Caleb, bring him here, and then deal with Grant.”
I looked at the scattered photos, then at Grant, who was groaning on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder.
Grant laughed. A bitter, wet, mocking sound.
“He’s a good liar, Jessica,” Grant coughed, spitting blood onto the rug. “But he’s not telling you the whole truth. Ask him why the Cartel really wants Caleb. It’s not just about the trust fund.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened instantly. He turned toward Marco. “Get him out of here.”
“No, wait!” I shouted, stepping forward. I looked at Grant. “What do you mean? Why does the Cartel want him?”
Grant smiled cruelly, wincing as Marco roughly hauled him to his feet.
“Your precious mother didn't just steal twelve million dollars from the syndicate five years ago,” Grant sneered. “She stole the master ledger. The physical book detailing every corrupt politician, judge, and police commissioner on the Santos Cartel’s payroll. She hid it, and she encoded the location of the ledger into the routing numbers inside that locket.”
Grant nodded toward the silver heart pendant resting on the floor, the tiny micro-paper still tucked inside.
“The Cartel doesn't want the twelve million, Jessica,” Grant laughed. “They want the ledger. If the FBI finds it, the entire Cartel falls. They took Caleb because they think he knows where your mother hid it.”
I stared at the broken silver necklace on the rug. My mother hadn't just secured a future for us; she had secured a nuclear bomb that could destroy the most powerful cartel in North America. And she had left the detonator hanging around my neck.
“If they think Caleb knows where it is,” I breathed, absolute terror gripping my heart, “and he doesn't tell them...”
“They will torture him until he does,” Lorenzo finished grimly.
He walked over and picked up the tiny micro-paper from the broken locket. He held it up to the light.
“These aren't bank routing numbers,” Lorenzo said, his brow furrowing as he studied the tiny string of numbers. “These are GPS coordinates.”
“Coordinates to where?” I asked frantically.
Lorenzo pulled his secure cell phone from his pocket, typing the coordinates into a private mapping software.
A moment later, the screen loaded a satellite image.
Lorenzo stared at the screen, the color completely draining from his face.
“This is impossible,” Lorenzo whispered.
“Where is it?” Marco asked, stepping closer to look at the screen.
“The coordinates point to a single, unmarked grave in the St. Jude Catholic Cemetery,” Lorenzo said, his voice laced with a sudden, profound dread.
I frowned, confused. “My mother isn't buried there. We couldn't afford a plot. She was cremated.”
“I know,” Lorenzo said, looking up at me, his dark eyes filled with absolute horror.
He turned the phone around so I could see the screen. The GPS pin was resting directly over a large, ornate marble mausoleum.
“That’s not your mother’s grave, Jessica,” Lorenzo said softly. “That’s my brother’s grave. Matteo.”
The room went completely silent.
My mother had hidden the cartel’s blackmail ledger inside the tomb of Lorenzo DeMarco’s twelve-year-old brother.
“Why would she hide it there?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Because she knew it was the one place on earth I have guarded 24/7 by my elite enforcers,” Lorenzo realized, awe mixing with his anger. “She used my grief as her personal security vault. The Cartel couldn't dig it up without starting a war with my syndicate.”
Grant chuckled from the doorway. “Brilliant woman, your mother. But now the Cartel has Caleb. And they just sent me a message before Lorenzo shot me.”
I spun around to face him. “What message?”
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Grant grinned, a sickening, triumphant look.
“The Cartel knows about the GPS coordinates now, Jessica,” Grant said. “Because I texted them the numbers before you stabbed me. They’re marching on the cemetery right now. And if they don't find the ledger by sunrise... they’re going to execute Caleb on a live feed.”
