Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Ledger
The sun rose over the Kade estate like a pale bruise, casting long, gray shadows across the frost-covered lawns.
In his private study on the ground floor, Weston sat behind a massive mahogany desk. Piles of ledgers, shipping manifests, and digital drive printouts covered the wood. Across from him sat Marcus, his chief enforcer and shadow—a man built like a brick wall with a scar running from his left ear down to his collar.
"You're sure about this, Boss?" Marcus asked, sliding a thin manila folder across the desk. "Julian Vance died in a crane collapse at Dock 4. Official report said he was drunk on the job. Case closed by the city police three years ago."
"The city police report was written by Commander Hayes," Weston said coldly, flipping open the folder. "Hayes was on Silas Marchetti’s payroll before I bought his mortgage out from under him. Nothing is closed until I say it is."
Weston pulled out a faded personnel photograph of Julian Vance. Beside it, he placed a crime scene photo of the explosion that killed Odalys and Nadia.
"Look at the dates, Marcus," Weston instructed. "Julian Vance filed an internal audit report regarding missing freight containers from Kade Shipping on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, my wife and daughter’s SUV was blown to pieces six blocks from a Marchetti-controlled restaurant. On Thursday, Julian Vance was crushed under a crane."
Marcus leaned in, his brow furrowing as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "You think Julian didn't die in an industrial accident. You think he found something."
"I think Julian discovered who skimmed the explosives from our private armory to build the bomb that killed my family," Weston said, his voice dropping into a register so chilling that Marcus instinctively straightened up. "And I think he tried to use it as leverage, or worse—he tried to warn me, and someone inside my own organization silenced him before he could reach my desk."
Before Marcus could answer, a sharp knock echoed at the heavy study door.
Without waiting for permission, the door swung open.
Genevieve Marchetti stood in the doorway, draped in a white cashmere coat, her emerald eyes flashing with displeasure. Behind her stood two of her personal bodyguards, their hands resting casually inside their suit jackets.
"Weston," Genevieve purred, stepping into the room with the practiced grace of high-society royalty. She glanced at the papers scattered across the desk, her lips curling into a sharp smile. "Still playing detective with your ghosts? I thought we agreed that past alliances—and past tragedies—were buried when we signed the engagement contract."
Weston didn't stand up. He slowly closed the manila folder, hiding Julian’s photograph beneath the dark cardboard cover.
"Genevieve," Weston said smoothly, his voice devoid of warmth. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit at eight in the morning? Usually, you prefer to send threats through your father's lawyers."
Genevieve walked closer, resting her gloved hand on the edge of Weston's desk. "My father is getting restless, Weston. The wedding is in two months. The city expects a unified front between the Kades and the Marchettis. But instead of planning the reception, I hear rumors that you've installed a maid and her brat in the main family wing."
Weston’s eyes narrowed. The air in the study dropped ten degrees.
"My house, my rules, Genevieve," Weston said softly, standing up to tower over her. "If you ever refer to a child in my home that way again, the only thing unified between our families will be your father's funeral arrangements."
Genevieve’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly, smoothing her coat. "Careful, Weston. Wars have started over less. Make sure your charity work doesn't distract you from who your real enemies are."
She turned and swept out of the room, her bodyguards trailing behind her like silent hounds.
May you like
When the heavy oak door clicked shut, Marcus let out a low whistle. "She’s getting bolder. And her father is pushing for full integration of our shipping lanes next week."
"Let them push," Weston said, his gaze fixed on the door. "Because they don't know what’s sitting upstairs in Nadia’s old room."
