Chapter 6 - The Ledger Covered In Ash
Marco hit the first gunman with the force of a freight train.
The suppressed pistol fired wildly, a sharp thwip that shattered the glass of a nearby advertisement board.
“Run, Hannah!” Marco roared, driving his elbow into the second man’s throat.
I didn’t look back. I grabbed the duffel bag from the floor where it had landed, hauled it over my shoulder, and sprinted toward the dark service corridor Marco had signaled.
Footsteps pounded behind me.
“Get her!” Vincent Bellini shouted, his aristocratic composure entirely gone.
I tore down the narrow concrete hallway, my black housekeeping shoes slipping slightly on the slick floor. The heavy canvas bag banged against my hip, slowing me down.
I rounded a corner and saw a set of heavy metal doors marked MAINTENANCE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
I shoved through them, locking the deadbolt behind me just as a heavy body slammed into the other side.
I was in a dark, humid boiler room. The roar of the station’s heating systems masked the sound of the men pounding on the door.
I had to find another way out.
I scrambled up a metal catwalk, dragging the bag with me, and found an old ventilation exit that led out to the alley above the tracks.
Ten minutes later, I was standing in the freezing rain on Clinton Street, gasping for air. I hailed a passing taxi, threw a hundred-dollar bill from my emergency stash at the driver, and gave him the address to Matteo’s estate.
When I walked through the front doors of the mansion, I was soaked, exhausted, and trembling.
Matteo was waiting in the foyer.
He saw my pale face, my wet hair, and the heavy canvas bag.
“Where is Marco?” he asked, his voice sharp.
“He stayed behind to stop Vincent Bellini’s men,” I breathed, dropping the bag onto the marble floor. “They ambushed us at the lockers. Vincent was there.”
Matteo’s jaw hardened. He pulled out his phone and sent a rapid text. “My men will find Marco. You did exactly what you were supposed to do, Hannah. Thank you.”
He knelt and unzipped the duffel bag.
He pulled out the bloodstained wool coat. His hands paused as he touched the fabric.
Then, he saw the photograph pinned to the lapel. The picture of Nico watching his own funeral.
Matteo closed his eyes. A profound, agonizing grief washed over his face.
“He was alive,” Matteo whispered. “He watched me bury an empty box. He let me grieve.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked softly.
Matteo reached into the bag and pulled out the stack of ledger books.
They were old, bound in cheap black leather.
He opened the first one.
The pages weren't filled with numbers. They were filled with handwritten notes.
Matteo began to read. His eyes scanned the pages rapidly.
“Nico didn't run away because of gambling debts,” Matteo said, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage. “He ran because he found out the truth about the restaurant fire.”
I frowned. “The fire that almost killed your mother?”
“Yes. When I was sixteen, our restaurant burned to the ground. We thought it was faulty wiring. The insurance payout was what I used to start my first legitimate business.”
Matteo turned a page. A piece of charred paper fell out from between the leaves. It was a corner of an old contract, covered in ash.
“It wasn't an accident,” Matteo said. “Vincent Bellini ordered the fire. He wanted the land our restaurant sat on for a commercial development. But my mother refused to sell.”
I stared at him. “So he tried to burn her alive?”
“Yes. And Nico found the proof. He found the arsonist. But the Bellinis caught him before he could tell me.”
Matteo looked up, his dark eyes burning.
“Vincent Bellini gave Nico a choice. Disappear forever, let the family think he was dead, or Vincent would murder me and my mother in our beds.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Nico sacrificed his entire life to keep you safe.”
“And he spent the next fourteen years in hiding,” Matteo said, his voice thick. “Gathering evidence. Building these ledgers to destroy the Bellinis. He fell in love. He had Leo. But Vincent must have finally found him.”
Matteo slammed the ledger shut.
“Vincent killed my brother. And now he has my brother’s wife.”
Matteo stood up. The grief was gone, replaced by a cold, absolute resolve. The mafia boss who had ruled Chicago’s underworld for a decade was fully awake.
“Hannah,” Matteo said. “Go upstairs. Pack a bag for Leo and one for yourself. You are leaving the city tonight.”
“What? No,” I argued. “I want to help.”
“This isn't your war,” Matteo said firmly. “It’s blood for blood now. I’m going to tear the Bellini family down to the studs. I need to know Leo is safe. I have a cabin in Wisconsin. You take him there.”
Before I could protest, the heavy oak doors of the foyer crashed open.
Marco stood there. His face was bruised, and his suit was torn, but he was alive.
And he wasn't alone.
He was dragging a woman by the arm.
A woman with disheveled blonde hair, wearing a torn waitress uniform. She was crying hysterically.
“Marco,” Matteo said. “Who is this?”
“I found her in the trunk of one of the Bellini cars at the station,” Marco grunted, letting her go.
The woman collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.
Leo’s voice suddenly cried out from the top of the stairs.
“Mommy!”
The little boy ran down the marble steps as fast as his legs could carry him and threw himself into the woman’s arms.
Clara, Nico’s widow, clutched her son, burying her face in his neck.
Matteo watched them, his heart breaking all over again.
But Clara looked up at Matteo. Her eyes were wild with fear.
“You’re Matteo,” she gasped.
“Yes,” Matteo said gently. “You’re safe now, Clara.”
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“No, we’re not,” Clara cried, pulling a crumpled, bloody piece of paper from her pocket. “Vincent Bellini didn't just want the ledgers! He wanted the final piece of evidence Nico hid! And he knows where it is!”
TITLE: The Names Written In Blue Ink
