Chapter 6 - [THE BLUE LEDGER IN THE COATROOM]
I slipped out of the sub-cellar and up the narrow servant’s staircase.
The transition from the damp, violent dark of the wine cellar to the bright, opulent hallways of the main mansion was jarring. The sounds of a string quartet drifted from the garden terrace where the guests had been relocated. I could hear the clinking of champagne flutes and the low murmur of wealthy, oblivious conversations.
I kept my head down, carrying a silver tray I had grabbed from the pantry to complete my disguise. My apron was still stained with chocolate, but in the dim lighting of the mahogany corridors, I just looked like a tired servant working a long shift.
I reached the grand foyer.
The coatroom was tucked beneath the sweeping marble staircase. Two massive men in tailored suits—Julian’s bodyguards—stood near the front doors, scanning the perimeter.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Keep your head down. You’re invisible. You’re just the maid.
I walked briskly across the marble floor, balancing the tray. Neither guard even glanced in my direction. To them, I wasn't a person; I was part of the furniture.
I slipped into the coatroom and pulled the heavy oak door shut behind me, locking the deadbolt with a soft click.
The room smelled of expensive wool, leather, and stale perfume. Racks of luxury coats hung in perfect rows.
“A heavy winter coat,” I muttered to myself, abandoning the tray on a side table.
I frantically began searching the racks. Julian Bellini was a tall man; his coat would be large. I pushed past mink stoles and cashmere trench coats, my hands trembling.
Finally, tucked in the very back, I found it. A heavy, dark charcoal wool overcoat with a velvet collar. I reached into the left pocket. Empty.
I reached into the right pocket.
My fingers brushed against smooth, cold leather.
I pulled it out. It was a thick, blue leather-bound ledger, secured with a small brass clasp.
“I got it,” I breathed, tears of relief pricking my eyes. This was the proof. This book contained the truth about Luca’s father, the truth Julian had used to justify his assassination, and the only leverage Luca needed to destroy the Bellini family in front of the Commission.
I unclasped the brass lock, unable to resist opening it. I needed to see what men like my father had died for.
The pages were filled with Luca’s father’s precise handwriting. Lists of offshore accounts being drained. Properties being transferred to public trusts.
But as I flipped toward the back of the book, my eyes caught a name written in bold red ink.
Thomas Hayes.
My breath hitched. My father’s name.
Beside his name was a staggering sum of money—two million dollars—and a single note:
“For the Hayes girl, upon her 25th birthday. The price of an honest man’s silence.”
I stumbled backward, hitting the coat racks.
My father hadn't just discovered the tampered brakes. He had been paid to keep quiet about the family’s transition to legitimate business. Luca’s father had set up a trust fund for me to ensure my father’s loyalty.
But Julian had found out, and he had burned my father alive to tie up loose ends.
Suddenly, the brass doorknob of the coatroom rattled violently.
I froze, slamming the ledger shut and clutching it to my chest.
“Hey!” a gruff voice barked from the hallway. One of Julian’s guards. “Who locked this door? Open up!”
I backed away into the shadows of the coats. There was no other exit. No windows. Just me, the ledger, and two armed mobsters on the other side of the wood.
BAM!
A heavy shoulder slammed into the door. The wood splintered near the hinges.
BAM!
They were going to break it down. They were going to find me with the book, and they were going to kill me right here among the cashmere and silk.
I looked around frantically. My eyes landed on the heating vent near the floorboards. It was too small for a person, but it was wide enough for a book.
With shaking hands, I pried the metal grate off the vent, shoved the blue ledger deep into the dusty ductwork, and placed the grate back perfectly.
Just as the coatroom door exploded open.
The two massive guards burst into the room, their hands resting on the concealed weapons under their jackets.
I let out a perfectly timed, terrified scream, dropping a random mink coat onto the floor and cowering against the wall.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” the taller guard snarled, grabbing me by the arm and hauling me to my feet.
“I—I was just organizing the coats!” I stammered, letting genuine tears of terror spill down my cheeks. “The lock got stuck! I was trying to get out!”
The guard sneered, patting down my apron to ensure I hadn't stolen any wallets. Finding nothing, he shoved me toward the door.
“Get out of here, stupid girl. Go back to the kitchen before I break your jaw.”
I didn't wait. I scurried out of the room, keeping my head bowed, trembling violently.
I walked fast, heading straight for the servant’s staircase to return to the cellar and tell Luca where the book was hidden.
But before I reached the stairs, a heavy, calloused hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I gasped, spinning around.
Standing behind me was Silvio Bellini. Vanessa and Julian’s uncle. The patriarch of the rival family. He had a jagged scar across his cheek and eyes as cold as dead fish.
“Excuse me, dear,” Silvio said, his voice a low, raspy purr. He was holding a silver pocket watch in his hand, checking the time. “Have you seen my niece, Vanessa? Or my nephew, Julian? They seem to have disappeared from the party.”
I swallowed hard, my throat completely dry.
“No, sir,” I whispered. “I haven't seen them.”
Silvio smiled, exposing yellowed teeth. He reached out and gently touched the chocolate stain on my white apron.
“That’s a shame,” Silvio murmured. “Because Julian sent me a text message five minutes ago from the carriage house. He said a little maid in a dirty apron was causing problems.”
My heart stopped.
May you like
Silvio’s grip on my shoulder tightened like a vice.
“Now,” Silvio whispered, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and pressing the tip against my ribs. “You’re going to take me exactly where they are. Or you’re going to bleed to death on this very expensive carpet.”
