Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Ledger
The interior of the Vance estate was a silent museum of polished marble, dark walnut paneling, and crystal chandeliers. Yet, despite the wealth, the air felt hollow, heavy with the scent of unlit cigars and old leather.
Dominic led Renley into a sprawling library. A grand stone fireplace roared in the corner, throwing warm orange light across rows of hardbound books.
“Sit,” Dominic gestured to a soft leather armchair.
Renley sat down carefully on the edge of the seat, resting her delivery bag on her lap. Silas stood by the doorway, his radio buzzing faintly on his shoulder until Dominic motioned for him to leave and close the double mahogany doors.
Dominic walked over to a wet bar, poured himself two fingers of dark amber liquor, and drank it in a single swallow. He sat across from Renley, staring at the brown paper bag sitting on the antique table between them.
“Tell me about the food,” Dominic commanded gently. “Why was his name on a bag meant for this address?”
“Mr. Pike... I mean, Mr. Walter... he was on our priority delivery list,” Renley explained, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “Every Thursday, he got vegetable soup and rye bread. But two weeks ago, he asked me if I could do him a favor. He gave me a sealed white envelope with fifty dollars inside. He asked me to buy a special meat stew from the deli down the street and deliver it to this address on the first of the month.”
Dominic stiffened. “He sent food here?”
“He said someone living up in the hills was very lonely,” Renley whispered. “He said the person up here had plenty of money, but nobody ever knocked on his door just to hand him something warm. He crossed out his own name on the kitchen label and wrote this address over it so Miss Martha wouldn’t get confused.”
Dominic leaned back in his chair, putting his hands over his face. A harsh, ragged sob echoed in the quiet library.
The most feared crime lord in the tri-state area was weeping over a brown paper bag of stew.
“He was watching me,” Dominic rasped through his fingers. “All these years... I thought he hated me. I sent men to check on him from a distance, but he always drove them away. He knew I lived in this fortress alone. He was sending me a message.”
Before Renley could answer, the library doors flew open.
A sharp-dressed man in his late thirties barged in, followed by two armed guards. He had sleek black hair, cold dark eyes, and a tailored suit that screamed money and arrogance.
“Dominic!” the man snapped, taking in the scene. “What is going on? Silas said you locked the perimeter gates for a delivery kid? We have the harbor union meeting in twenty minutes!”
Dominic didn’t look up immediately. He wiped his face with a linen handkerchief, his sorrow instant hardening into an icy composure that sent shudders down Renley’s spine.
“Victor,” Dominic said smoothly. “Learn to knock before entering my study.”
Victor’s eyes locked onto Renley, then shifted to the food bag on the table. He recognized the handwriting on the label instantly. His jaw tightened.
“Is that... Walter’s writing?” Victor asked, his tone shifting from irritated to suspiciously guarded.
“Walter is dead, Victor,” Dominic revealed coldly. “He passed away three days ago in his apartment.”
Victor froze. For a fraction of a second, a flash of relief crossed his face—so subtle that only someone looking closely would have caught it. But Renley, used to reading the subtle moods of stressed adults in her neighborhood, saw it clearly.
“Dead?” Victor echoed, quickly putting on an expression of grim sorrow. “That’s... unfortunate. I know how much you hoped he would come back to the family business one day, Uncle Dominic.”
“He was my brother,” Dominic said sternly. “He belonged to this family more than anyone else in this room.”
Victor glanced down at Renley, his eyes narrowing like a snake sizing up prey. “And who is she? Why is a street urchin sitting in your private library with family business?”
“She brought Walter’s last meal,” Dominic answered, standing up. “She was his friend for two years. Show some respect, Victor.”
Victor stepped closer to the table, staring at Renley’s delivery bag. “If Walter is dead, then his apartment needs to be cleared immediately. He still held the original deeds to the riverfront docks in his name. If those legal documents fall into the hands of the police—or the Rossi family—we lose our entire shipping network.”
Dominic’s eyes flashed with danger. “My brother just died, Victor, and all you care about are land deeds?”
“I care about survival!” Victor snapped back. “The Rossi syndicate is pushing into our turf! If they find out Walter is dead and those deeds are floating around in a tenement building, we’re finished!”
Renley shrank back into her leather chair. She didn't understand what riverfront docks or land deeds were, but she remembered something clearly.
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When Mrs. Gable and the landlord had entered Mr. Pike’s apartment after his death, she had seen a small black leather notebook tucked inside his old boots in the closet. The landlord had thrown it into a trash box.
Renley held her breath, realizing she was caught in the middle of a war she didn't understand.
