Chapter 7 - The Midnight Train Ticket
Luca stared at the note.
Marco hadn’t just orchestrated an attack; he had left a taunt in Antonio’s most secure vault. He had known exactly where the ledger was.
But the wooden box was empty. The ledger was gone.
“He has it,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Ten years of his financial crimes, the proof of my father’s assassination attempts. If he destroys that ledger, the syndicate board will never let me execute him. He walks away free.”
“Not if we catch him at the station,” Gino said.
Luca handed Lily to Maria. “Take her upstairs to the medical wing. Keep her with Vanessa. Double the guards.”
He turned to me. He looked at the wine stains on my apron, the soot on my face, and the photograph of my father still clutched in my hand.
“Emma,” Luca said softly. “You should go home. Your shift ended hours ago.”
“My father died for that ledger,” I said, my voice surprising me with its steadiness. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Luca searched my eyes. He saw the same stubborn loyalty his father must have seen in mine thirty years ago.
He nodded once. “Let’s go.”
We sprinted up the stairs, leaving the ruined cellar behind.
The main floor of the mansion was a war zone. Glass covered the Persian rugs. Bullet holes scarred the antique walls. But Luca’s loyalists had secured the house.
We climbed into an armored SUV. Gino drove, tearing out of the estate gates and roaring toward downtown Chicago.
The rain had started to fall, slicking the streets in a neon glare.
“Marco’s ticket was for the 1:00 AM express to Montreal,” Luca said, checking his watch. “It’s 12:40.”
“We’ll make it,” Gino grunted, running a red light.
I sat in the back seat, my mind racing. I thought about Vanessa, throwing herself against the steel door to save her daughter. I thought about Luca, discovering the betrayal of his fiancée and his uncle in the same night. And I thought about my dad, who had kept a secret so massive it eventually killed him.
We arrived at Union Station. The massive, cavernous terminal was mostly empty at this hour, echoing with the sound of distant announcements.
We ran through the grand hall.
“Track 4,” Luca pointed.
We pushed through the turnstiles. The Montreal express was idling on the tracks, steam hissing from the undercarriage. Conductors were checking the final tickets.
Luca spotted him.
Marco was walking toward the first-class car. He wore a tailored trench coat, carrying a sleek leather briefcase. He looked calm. Untouchable.
“Marco!” Luca’s voice boomed across the empty platform.
Marco stopped. He slowly turned around.
When he saw Luca, he didn’t run. He smiled.
“You survived,” Marco called out, his voice echoing. “I have to say, Luca, I’m impressed. Your father would be proud.”
Luca closed the distance, Gino right behind him with his hand inside his jacket. I stayed a few paces back, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Hand over the briefcase, Marco,” Luca demanded.
Marco chuckled, adjusting his grip on the leather handle. “Or what? You’ll shoot me in a crowded train station? The police will be here in two minutes. You’ll lose the empire tonight.”
“If you get on that train, you are a dead man,” Luca said quietly.
“If I get on this train, I am a free man,” Marco corrected. He tapped the briefcase. “The ledger is in here, Luca. The proof of everything. Once I cross the border, I’ll burn it. And the syndicate board will officially vote you out for attacking a senior family member without cause.”
Marco turned to board the train.
“Wait,” I yelled.
Marco paused, looking back at me with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. “And who is the maid?”
“I’m Thomas Sullivan’s daughter,” I said, stepping forward.
Marco’s smile vanished. The color drained slightly from his face. He remembered the man who had ruined his first coup.
“Ah,” Marco sneered. “The janitor who thought he was a soldier. He died like a dog in the street.”
My hands curled into fists. “He died protecting a good man. You’re just a coward stealing from your own family.”
Marco’s eyes flashed with anger. He took a step toward me.
That was his mistake.
In that split second of distraction, Gino lunged forward. He didn’t draw a gun. He grabbed the handle of the briefcase, twisting it violently out of Marco’s grip.
Marco stumbled back, shouting as the briefcase popped open.
Papers flew everywhere, scattering across the wet concrete platform.
But there was no red leather ledger.
There were only newspapers. Bundles of worthless, cut-up newspaper.
Luca stared at the scattered debris.
Marco started laughing. It was a cold, victorious sound.
“You think I’m stupid, Luca?” Marco mocked. “You think I would carry the real ledger on me? I found it in the cellar years ago. I hid it where you would never, ever look.”
The train whistle blew, a deafening shriek that signaled departure.
“Goodbye, Nephew,” Marco smiled, stepping onto the train. “I’ll send my regards to the board.”
The doors slid shut. The train began to pull away.
Luca stood frozen on the platform, watching his uncle escape. Gino cursed, kicking the empty briefcase.
We had lost. Marco was going to get away with murder, and Luca’s empire would crumble.
I looked down at the scattered newspapers. My father’s sacrifice had been for nothing.
Then, I remembered something.
A tiny, seemingly insignificant detail from hours ago.
I grabbed Luca’s arm. “Luca. The coat.”
He looked at me, confused. “What?”
“Before the engagement dinner,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “When you asked Maria to bring up Antonio’s wine bottle. You asked for his old coat, too. The one he used to wear in the cellar.”
Luca frowned. “Yes. I wanted to have it cleaned.”
“When Gino brought Vanessa’s purse to the dining room... he also brought Antonio’s coat,” I said, my heart racing. “I saw him put it on the back of your chair.”
Luca’s eyes widened.
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“Marco said he hid the ledger where you would never look,” I breathed. “What if he hid it inside the lining of your father’s old coat? The one that’s been hanging in the basement for thirteen years?”
TITLE: The Ledger in the Old Coat
