Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE IN THE LEDGER
The stainless-steel kitchen suddenly felt devoid of oxygen.
I stared at the faded ink on the inside cover of the ledger.
Property of Margaret Bennett.
"Nora," Luca said, his voice sharp, cutting through the ringing in my ears. He knelt beside me, picking up the heavy book. He looked at the signature, then up at my face.
"Is this your mother?" he asked.
I couldn't speak. I just nodded, a terrifying numbness spreading through my chest.
My mother, Margaret, was a quiet woman who worked as a bookkeeper for a small hardware store in the suburbs. She baked terrible cookies, knitted lopsided sweaters, and worried obsessively about whether I was saving enough money for retirement.
The idea of her sitting in a smoke-filled backroom, meticulously recording bribes and payoffs for the most ruthless mafia boss in Chicago, was incomprehensible.
"She told me she worked for an import-export company when I was a kid," I whispered, my voice trembling. "She said it went bankrupt."
Luca closed the ledger, his expression shifting from anger to a deeply focused calculation.
"If your mother was my father's accountant," Luca said, "then Leo isn't just looking for the ledger to sell it."
I looked up at him, panicked. "What do you mean?"
"Leo told you he needed the silver lighter because it contained the cipher key," Luca explained rapidly. "But he lost the lighter when you threw it. He doesn't have the key anymore."
"So the book is useless to him," I said, a desperate hope clinging to the words.
"No," Luca said grimly. "If he doesn't have the key, he needs the person who created the cipher. He needs the person who wrote the book."
The reality crashed down on me like a physical weight.
Leo wasn't running to hide. He was running to find the only person alive who could decode the ledger for him.
"He's going after my mother," I gasped, stumbling backward.
"Marco!" Luca barked, grabbing his head of security by the arm and hauling him fully to his feet. "Get a med-kit for that shoulder, then get the cars ready. We are leaving now."
"Sir, the estate is still locked down," Marco grunted, applying pressure to his bleeding shoulder. "The guests are panicking in the main hall."
"Let them panic," Luca snapped. "Leave a detail to watch Vanessa until she's off the property. You and I are going with Nora."
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back of a black, armored SUV, tearing through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago.
I was clutching my phone, desperately calling my mother's landline. It rang and rang, echoing hollowly in the quiet car.
"Pick up, please pick up," I chanted under my breath.
"Where does she live?" Luca asked from the passenger seat, his eyes glued to the dark road ahead.
"Oak Park," I replied. "A small duplex on Elm Street."
Marco, driving with one hand while his shoulder was bandaged, pushed the heavy SUV past eighty miles an hour.
"If Leo doesn't know her name, how would he find her?" Marco asked reasonably.
"He doesn't need her name," Luca said, his voice tight. "He had the ledger for three days while he was hiding in the estate. He had plenty of time to read the signature on the back cover."
The phone clicked, and an automated voicemail message began to play.
I hung up and redialed. My hands were shaking so violently I almost dropped the phone.
"She's a deep sleeper," I tried to rationalize, though tears were burning in my eyes. "She takes medication for her arthritis. She probably just didn't hear it."
Luca turned around in his seat, looking at me with a startlingly gentle expression.
"We will get there, Nora," he said softly. "I will not let him hurt her."
I wanted to believe him. But Luca Moretti's world was built on violence, and my mother was entirely unequipped to survive in it.
We reached Oak Park in record time. The quiet suburban street was lined with large oak trees and small, manicured lawns. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, casting a gloomy sheen over the pavement.
Marco killed the headlights as we rolled to a stop half a block away from my mother's duplex.
"Which one?" Luca asked, drawing his weapon.
"The blue one on the left," I whispered, pointing to a small, two-story house with a porch swing.
The house was completely dark.
Luca and Marco stepped out of the vehicle silently.
"Stay in the car, Nora," Luca ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"She's my mother," I pleaded, grabbing the door handle.
"And Leo is a desperate, bleeding man with a gun," Luca said firmly. "If he's inside, you are a liability. Stay here. Lock the doors."
He slammed the door shut before I could protest further.
I watched through the tinted glass as Luca and Marco moved like ghosts across the wet lawn. They flanked the front porch, communicating with silent hand signals.
Marco checked the front door. He shook his head. Locked.
Luca pointed toward the back of the house. They disappeared down the narrow side alley.
I sat in the dark SUV, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it ached. Every second felt like an hour. I stared at the dark windows of my mother's house, praying for a light to turn on, praying to see her silhouette.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
The silence was excruciating.
Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated violently in my lap, making me jump.
I looked at the screen.
It was my mother's home number.
I snatched it up, pressing it to my ear.
"Mom?!" I gasped, tears instantly spilling down my cheeks. "Mom, are you okay? Are you safe?"
There was a heavy, static-filled silence on the other end.
Then, a rough, ragged breath.
"She's resting," a man's voice said.
My blood ran completely cold.
It was Leo.
"Don't you touch her," I hissed, a sudden, primal anger overriding my terror. "If you hurt her, Luca will tear you apart."
Leo chuckled, a wet, painful sound. He was clearly suffering from the knife wound Vanessa had given him.
"Luca is currently searching an empty house, sweetheart," Leo mocked. "I didn't stay at the duplex. I grabbed your mother and left twenty minutes ago."
"Where is she?" I demanded, my voice breaking.
"She's right here," Leo said. "And she's been very cooperative. It's amazing what a little motivation can do. She told me she remembers the cipher key perfectly."
"Let her go, Leo. You have what you want."
"Not quite," Leo said, his voice turning deadly serious. "I have the cipher in her head. But I don't have the book. And I can't decode it without the pages."
I looked down at the floorboard of the SUV, where Luca had placed the heavy leather ledger before getting out.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"A trade," Leo said. "The book for your mother. But not with Luca. I know he'll bring an army. Just you."
"I can't leave the car," I lied, looking desperately toward the dark alley where Luca had vanished. "They locked me in."
"Unlock it," Leo snapped. "Or I put a bullet in your mother's knee right now, so you can hear her scream."
"Wait!" I cried. "Okay. Okay. Where do you want me to go?"
"You know the old abandoned railyard on the South Side? The one past the river?"
"Yes."
"Warehouse 4," Leo instructed. "You have thirty minutes. Bring the book. Come alone. If I see a single tail, if I see Luca's face, I kill her and disappear."
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, my hands shaking violently.
I looked at the dark house. Luca and Marco would be back in a few minutes, realizing it was empty. If I told Luca about the call, he would insist on coming. He would bring his men.
And Leo would kill my mother.
I looked down at the ledger on the floor.
I wasn't a mafia princess. I wasn't trained for this. I was a housekeeper who had spent the last three years folding towels and pouring wine.
But I was the only one who could save her.
I climbed over the center console into the driver's seat.
Marco had left the keys in the ignition.
I started the engine, the powerful roar of the V8 shattering the quiet suburban street.
I saw the side gate of my mother's house fly open. Luca sprinted out, his gun raised, staring in disbelief as the SUV's headlights illuminated him.
"Nora!" Luca shouted, running toward the vehicle. "Stop the car!"
May you like
I looked at him through the windshield, tears streaming down my face. I mouthed the words I'm sorry.
I slammed my foot on the gas and tore away from the curb, leaving the most powerful man in Chicago standing in the rain, while I drove straight into the devil's den.
