Chapter 3 - The Secret Ledger and the Gathering StormThe afternoon was suffocating. Following the morning’s confrontation, Katarina retreated to her private sitting room in the west wing—the one sanctuary I had left entirely untouched out of respect. Or so I thought.
Needing a quiet moment away from the lingering tension, I went down to the grand library to pull some historical property records for the estate trust. As I unlocked the bottom drawer of the mahogany desk—a drawer Dante had given me the key to on our wedding day—I noticed something strange.
The false bottom of the drawer, which contained old family trust documents predating Alessandro’s death, had been shifted.
Someone had been looking through Dante’s confidential syndicate archives.
My heart hammered against my ribs. These weren't just real estate papers; they were financial ledgers detailing accounts in Zurich and Cayman, tracking the transition of power from the old guard to Dante. If those papers fell into the wrong hands—or if someone like Marcus Vance, a rival syndicate leader currently trying to muscle in on our shipping lanes, got wind of them—it could destroy Dante from the inside.
Just as I reached for the documents, the library doors clicked open.
Katarina stood in the doorway, a leather-bound folder clutched in her thin hands. Her expression wasn't angry anymore; it was triumphant.
“Looking for these?” she asked smoothly, stepping into the room.
“Put those down, Katarina,” I said, standing up from the desk, my voice hardening. “Those are private family business records. You have no right to enter this office or rifle through Dante's private archives.”
“Private?” She scoffed, running a manicured fingernail along the spine of the ledger. “I helped build the accounts that fund this entire estate while you were still in elementary school, child. Dante is making mistakes—dangerous mistakes—softening his grip because of you. He’s shifting capital away from our traditional allies in Chicago to fund your pet legitimate philanthropic projects.”
“He is a businessman, not a warlord of the nineties,” I countered, stepping around the desk. “Times have changed. If you try to interfere with his operations, you aren't just hurting me—you’re undermining your own son.”
Katarina’s eyes flashed with genuine fury. She took two swift steps forward, dropping the folder onto the desk with a heavy thud. “You think you've won him completely, don't you? You think because he stood up to me this morning, he’ll choose you over the survival of the Moretti name when things get bloody? Marcus Vance is coming to dinner tonight, Elena. And he knows exactly what kind of weakness has infected this house.”
The blood drained from my face. Marcus Vance. The most ruthless enforcer in the tri-state area, a man currently attempting a hostile takeover of our import docks.
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“Why would you invite Vance here?” I demanded.
“Because,” Katarina smiled coldly, “some people need to be reminded of who they really are.”
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