Chapter 6 - The Empty Box
The silence in the vault was suffocating.
I stared at the bare metal bottom of the safety deposit box, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing.
“It’s empty,” I whispered, stating the impossible. “Lorenzo, where is the ledger?”
Lorenzo didn't move. He stood frozen, his eyes locked on the empty space. His jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter.
“Someone beat us to it,” he said, his voice hollow.
“But how?” I asked, panic rising in my chest. “Silas just told us the fake ring didn't work. And you’ve had the real ring in your pocket since last night. How could anyone have opened it?”
A reversal.
The entire premise of our desperate race to the bank had just been obliterated. The ring was the only key. Or so we thought.
Lorenzo reached into the empty box. His fingers brushed against the back corner.
He stopped.
He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper that had been wedged tightly against the hinge.
He unfolded it.
I leaned closer to read it.
The handwriting was elegant, sweeping, and written in faded blue ink.
My dearest Lorenzo,If you are reading this, it means you found the ring. It means Walter kept his promise.But you must know by now that I could never trust a bank with a secret that could destroy our family. The ring was a misdirection. A test to see who would come looking for it.The real ledger is hidden where the wolves sleep. You know where to look, my son. Protect it.Love, Mom.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Answer one. The ledger was never in the bank. It was a decoy set up by his mother to throw Silas off the trail.
Open two. Where is the real ledger, and what did “where the wolves sleep” mean?
“She played him,” Lorenzo murmured, a faint, proud smile touching his lips. “Even from the grave, she outsmarted Silas.”
“Where the wolves sleep,” I repeated, looking up at him. “Do you know what that means?”
Lorenzo nodded, slipping the note into his pocket.
“My family’s crest,” he explained. “The wolf and the swords. Our original family estate is in the countryside, about two hours north of the city. We haven't lived there since I was a child. The main gates have two massive stone wolves guarding the entrance.”
He looked at me, a dangerous light sparking in his dark eyes.
“The ledger is at the old estate.”
“Then we have to go,” I said urgently. “Before Silas figures it out.”
“Silas won't figure it out,” Lorenzo said confidently, closing the empty metal box and shoving it back into the wall. “He thinks the ring is the only key. He doesn't know my mother left a note. He’s going to waste his time trying to break into my current house to steal the ring back.”
We quickly exited the vault and made our way back up to the lobby.
Matteo was waiting by the elevators, looking tense.
“Is it secure, Boss?” Matteo asked quietly as we walked briskly toward the exit.
“Change of plans,” Lorenzo ordered. “We’re heading north. To the old estate.”
Matteo’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn't question the command. “Understood. I’ll prep the convoy.”
“No convoy,” Lorenzo countered. “A convoy attracts attention. Silas will have spotters watching our cars. We take one unmarked vehicle. You take the SUVs back to the main house and make a show of locking down the perimeter. Make Silas believe I’m hiding behind my walls.”
“Boss, traveling without a detail is suicide right now,” Matteo argued, stepping in front of the revolving doors.
“It’s the only way to slip out of the city unnoticed,” Lorenzo insisted, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Keep Walter safe. Do not let anyone breach the gates.”
Matteo reluctantly nodded, stepping aside.
We slipped out a side exit of the bank, avoiding the main street entirely. Lorenzo led me through an underground parking garage two blocks away, where he kept a fleet of discreet, armored sedans.
We got into a sleek, charcoal-grey Audi.
Lorenzo took the wheel. He navigated the labyrinth of the city’s back alleys with practiced precision, avoiding all major highways until we were well past the city limits.
The drive north was quiet. The sprawling urban landscape gave way to dense, towering pine forests and winding mountain roads.
I looked at Lorenzo. He was intensely focused on the road, his grip tight on the steering wheel.
“Why did your mother run, Lorenzo?” I asked softly, breaking the heavy silence in the car. “You said she ran from your father. Why did Silas want the ledger?”
Lorenzo sighed, the tension in his shoulders slumping slightly.
“My father, Vincenzo, was a ruthless man,” Lorenzo began, his voice devoid of any warmth. “He ruled the DeMarco family through fear. But he was also greedy. He started embezzling millions from the Commission’s joint accounts.”
He shifted gears as the car climbed a steep incline.
“Silas Romano was my father’s underboss. Silas discovered the embezzlement. But instead of turning my father in to the Commission, Silas blackmailed him. Silas demanded half the stolen money and control over the most lucrative territories.”
“And the ledger?” I prompted.
“My mother found out,” Lorenzo said, his eyes darkening. “She kept meticulous records. She gathered proof of my father’s theft and Silas’s blackmail. She was going to take the ledger to the Commission to expose them both and protect me.”
He swallowed hard.
“When my father found out what she was doing, he ordered a hit on his own wife. That’s when she ran to your father’s bakery.”
My heart ached for him. To know your own father ordered your mother’s death was an unimaginable burden.
“Silas has been looking for that ledger ever since, because it’s the only proof that he was complicit in the embezzlement,” Lorenzo concluded. “If the Commission sees it, Silas is a dead man.”
We turned off the main road onto a heavily rutted dirt path hidden deep within the pines.
The trees eventually parted, revealing the old DeMarco estate.
It was a massive, gothic stone mansion, completely overgrown with ivy and surrounded by a rusted wrought-iron fence. It looked abandoned, haunted, and entirely desolate.
At the main gate, just as Lorenzo had said, sat two towering, weathered stone statues of wolves.
Lorenzo parked the car a hundred yards away, turning off the engine.
We sat in the silence of the woods.
“The wolves sleep,” I whispered, looking at the statues.
Lorenzo nodded. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his handgun, checking the chamber.
He turned to me.
“Stay in the car, Rebecca. Lock the doors. Keep your head down.”
“No,” I said firmly, reaching for the door handle. “I’m not staying in the car alone in the middle of nowhere.”
“Rebecca, it’s not safe—”
“I’m coming with you,” I insisted, opening my door and stepping out into the crisp, cold air.
Lorenzo let out an exasperated breath, but he didn't stop me. He stepped out of the car, keeping his weapon drawn.
We walked quietly toward the rusted gates.
Lorenzo pushed the heavy iron open. It groaned loudly, breaking the silence of the forest.
We approached the two stone wolves. They were massive, their snarls frozen in stone, covered in years of moss and dirt.
Lorenzo walked up to the wolf on the left. He ran his hands along the base of the statue, feeling the stone.
“Help me look for a seam, or a loose stone,” Lorenzo said, crouching down.
I went to the wolf on the right. I knelt in the wet grass, running my fingers over the cold, rough stone base.
I felt a slight indentation near the back right paw. I pressed hard.
The stone shifted.
“Lorenzo!” I called out quietly. “Here.”
He rushed over. Together, we pried the loose stone block out of the base of the statue.
Inside the dark cavity, wrapped in heavy, waterproof wax paper, was a thick leather-bound book.
The ledger.
Lorenzo pulled it out. He unwrapped the wax paper, revealing the worn black leather. He opened it, scanning the handwritten pages filled with names, dates, and account numbers.
A profound, exhausted relief washed over his face.
“We have it,” Lorenzo breathed. “It’s over.”
Suddenly, the unmistakable, terrifying sound of a shotgun racking echoed through the silent courtyard.
“Drop the book, Lorenzo,” a familiar, sneering voice commanded from the shadows of the mansion’s front porch.
I froze.
Lorenzo slowly turned around, pushing me entirely behind him.
May you like
Stepping out of the shadows, holding a pump-action shotgun aimed directly at Lorenzo’s chest, was my husband.
Eric.
