Chapter 5 - The Ledger in the Cellar
Roman brought Maya into his private study ten minutes later, leaving Ellie under the strict, heavily armed protection of Antonio in the main living room.
Maya sat in the leather chair, clutching a warm cup of tea with both hands to stop them from shaking.
“Tell me everything, Maya,” Roman said, leaning against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “Start from the beginning.”
Maya took a shaky breath. “Two months ago… Margaret asked me to bring up some old crates of linens from the sub-cellar beneath the old wine vault. Nobody goes down there because the lock has been broken for years.”
Roman listened intently.
“I walked down the dark hallway,” Maya continued, her voice trembling. “And I saw Mr. Rossi. He was standing in front of a hidden floor safe behind the brick wall. He had two large black ledgers open, and he was transferring stacks of cash—hundreds of thousands of dollars—into duffel bags.”
Roman’s jaw locked so tight a muscle pulsed in his temple.
“Did he see you?”
“Yes,” Maya whispered. “I tried to back away, but the stairs creaked. He caught me by the arm. He told me that if I ever said a word to you, he would make sure Ellie and I ended up in the Chicago River. He said… he said you were a monster who killed people for fun, and that you would murder my daughter just to keep the estate quiet.”
Roman felt a deep, sickening rage boil in his gut.
“He forced me into taking endless shifts,” Maya cried softly. “He said if I was too tired to talk, I wouldn't make mistakes. He kept deducting my pay, telling me it was the 'price' for keeping my daughter alive. And every few nights, his men would stand outside our window to remind me they were watching.”
Roman closed his eyes for three long seconds.
He didn't just have a thief in his house. He had a parasite who had used Roman’s own violent reputation to terrorize an innocent mother and child while stripping his empire from the inside out.
The intercom on his desk buzzed. It was Antonio.
“Boss,” Antonio’s voice came through, heavy and urgent. “We finished the preliminary audit on Rossi’s shell accounts. It’s worse than we thought. Marcus hasn't just been skimming staff payroll. For the last eight years, he’s been routing fifteen percent of our trucking logistics revenues directly to the Vane Syndicate.”
The Vane Syndicate. Roman’s primary rivals in North Chicago. A ruthless, chaotic crew run by Dominic Vane—a man Roman had been at war with for a decade.
“Marcus isn't just a thief,” Roman said softly into the intercom. “He’s a rat.”
“He realized we were auditing him, boss,” Antonio reported. “Ten minutes ago, Marcus’s car cleared the main gates. He took a duffel bag from the cellar. He’s heading toward the docks.”
May you like
Roman’s eyes flashed with lethal intent.
“Get the cars,” Roman commanded. “We’re hunting.”
