Chapter 4 - THE DEAD MAN’S LEDGER
Daniel Bell had not disappeared.
He had been buried under another name.
That was what Dominic found first.
A death certificate from Indiana.
Car accident.
Four years earlier.
No family listed.
No connection to the Romano organization.
But the photograph matched.
Same face.
Same scar near the eyebrow.
Aleandro stared at the file.
“When did he work for my father?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“What department?”
“Charitable accounts.”
Aleandro looked up.
The same accounts Vittorio controlled now.
“Why did he leave?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Officially?”
“Yes.”
“Embezzlement.”
Aleandro’s jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“Seven hundred thousand.”
“And unofficially?”
“There are no internal files.”
“Someone removed them?”
“It looks that way.”
Aleandro did not need to ask who had access.
Vittorio.
Maybe Lucia.
Maybe more.
Aleandro drove back to the hospital.
Elena was awake.
Emma sat beside her coloring a horse purple.
Aleandro entered.
Elena looked at the folder in his hand.
Her face lost all color.
“You found him.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
Emma looked between them.
Aleandro crouched beside the child.
“Little one.”
Emma smiled slightly.
Her finger was wrapped in a tiny bandage.
“Horse.”
“I see.”
“It’s purple.”
“I also see that.”
She looked proud.
Aleandro stood.
“Elena.”
She stared at the blanket.
“Daniel didn’t steal from your father.”
“Tell me.”
“He found something.”
“What?”
“The same thing you found.”
Aleandro’s stomach tightened.
“Vittorio?”
She nodded.
“Back then it was smaller.”
“Money?”
“Relief funds. Funeral funds. Cash that was supposed to go to families.”
Aleandro leaned closer.
“How do you know?”
“Daniel told me.”
“Why didn’t he tell my father?”
“He tried.”
Aleandro went still.
“What happened?”
“He requested a private meeting.”
“When?”
“Two days before your father died.”
Aleandro’s breath slowed.
His father died of a heart attack.
At home.
Age fifty-eight.
Sudden.
No suspicion.
No investigation.
Daniel Bell disappeared the same week.
Vittorio took over charitable accounts months later.
The pieces did not fit yet.
But Aleandro did not like their shape.
“Did Daniel meet him?”
“I don’t know.”
“He never said?”
“He came home scared.”
Elena’s voice dropped.
“He told me to pack.”
“Why?”
“He said we had to leave Chicago.”
Emma continued coloring.
Oblivious.
Aleandro kept his voice low.
“What did he have?”
“A ledger.”
“Physical?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Vittorio know?”
“Yes.”
Aleandro closed his eyes briefly.
There it was.
“Why did Daniel disappear?”
“He didn’t.”
Elena looked at him.
“Your uncle made it look like he did.”
She explained.
Daniel came home after midnight.
Bruised.
Terrified.
He said someone had searched his office.
He told Elena not to answer the phone.
By morning, accusations had spread through Romano companies that Daniel stole money.
Two days later, they fled Illinois.
They spent seven years moving.
Indiana.
Ohio.
Kentucky.
Never staying long.
“Why return?”
Aleandro asked.
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Because he died.”
“And you thought it was over.”
“Yes.”
“Why work here?”
That made no sense.
If she feared Romano family, why enter the estate?
Elena looked at Emma.
“Because Daniel left something.”
Aleandro stared.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“For you.”
The room went silent.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
His expression hardened.
“Who does?”
“Lucia.”
Aleandro stood.
“Explain.”
“When I applied here, I used a different reference.”
“Why?”
“I needed access.”
“To Lucia?”
“To the old laundry rooms.”
Aleandro frowned.
“Daniel said if anything happened to him, he hid something inside this house.”
“A ledger?”
“I thought so.”
“Where?”
“He only gave me part of the clue.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“He said, ‘Where your mother washed blood from white roses.’”
Aleandro froze.
His mother.
White roses.
A memory returned.
He was fourteen.
A family wedding.
His mother had cut her hand arranging flowers and stained a white tablecloth.
She had laughed and carried it herself to the old basement laundry because the staff were busy.
Aleandro had followed her.
She showed him how cold water lifted blood from fabric.
He had forgotten.
“Old laundry room,” he whispered.
Elena nodded.
“I tried searching.”
“But Lucia caught you.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“She knew who I was.”
“Immediately?”
“No. After she saw Daniel’s photograph in my wallet.”
Aleandro’s jaw tightened.
“What did she do?”
“She took the letter.”
“Why didn’t she fire you?”
Elena looked toward Emma.
“Because she wanted to know what Daniel told me.”
So Lucia kept Elena close.
Underpaid.
Trapped by housing.
Observed.
Threatened.
Emma hidden in the staff wing gave Lucia even more leverage.
Aleandro stood.
“We search the old laundry.”
Elena reached for his sleeve.
“No.”
He looked down.
“If Vittorio knows you’re looking—”
“He already knows.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“He thinks you have power.”
Aleandro stared.
“You do.”
Elena’s voice softened.
“But Daniel used to say men become most dangerous when they realize someone else has proof.”
Aleandro understood.
Vittorio had lost money.
Access.
Position.
What remained?
Secrets.
And whatever secrets could still protect him.
At midnight, Aleandro entered the old basement laundry with Dominic and two men he trusted outside the estate hierarchy.
The room had not been used in years.
Old stone sinks.
Rusting shelves.
A broken mangle.
Dust.
He walked toward the far wall.
Where your mother washed blood from white roses.
He remembered the sink.
Third from the left.
His mother standing there in a green dress.
White flowers on the table beside her.
He ran his hand beneath the basin.
Nothing.
Dominic checked the wall.
A hollow sound.
They removed two stone panels.
Behind them sat a metal box.
Aleandro stared.
Eleven years hidden.
The lock had rusted.
Dominic forced it.
Inside:
A ledger.
Photographs.
Bank slips.
A cassette recorder.
And a sealed envelope.
ALEANDRO ROMANO
His name.
Daniel Bell’s handwriting.
Aleandro opened the letter.
If you are reading this, I failed to reach your father in time.
Your uncle is stealing from family accounts.
He is not alone.
Do not trust the estate books.
Do not trust Lucia DeLuca.
And most importantly, do not assume your father’s death was natural until you find the medication logs from his final week.
Aleandro stopped breathing.
Dominic read over his shoulder.
“What medication logs?”
Aleandro folded the letter.
“My father took heart medication.”
Dominic’s face changed.
“Who managed it?”
Aleandro knew.
Not a nurse.
Not a doctor.
His father hated strangers in the house.
His medication was kept in a locked cabinet beside his bedroom.
And the person who organized the pills every Sunday was—
“Lucia.”
They looked at each other.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Both men turned.
One of Aleandro’s guards entered.
“Boss.”
His voice was urgent.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Mrs. DeLuca is gone.”
Aleandro’s jaw tightened.
“With what?”
“We don’t know.”
“Find out.”
The guard hesitated.
“A car left through the service gate forty minutes ago.”
“Whose?”
“Registered to Vittorio.”
Aleandro felt cold.
“And someone accessed the hospital.”
Everything inside him stopped.
“What?”
The guard swallowed.
“A woman matching DeLuca’s description was seen near Mrs. Bell’s floor.”
Aleandro was already moving.
He called the hospital.
No answer from the room.
Again.
Nothing.
Then the nurse’s station answered.
Confusion.
A patient alarm.
Voices.
Aleandro’s blood ran cold.
“Elena Bell.”
“One moment—”
“Now.”
The nurse returned breathless.
“Mrs. Bell is here.”
Aleandro exhaled.
“And Emma?”
Silence.
Too long.
“Where is the child?”
“We thought she was with family.”
Aleandro stopped walking.
Emma was gone.
And on Elena’s bedside table, the nurse found a single folded note.
Three words.
May you like
Bring the ledger. Alone.
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