Chapter 6 - THE LEDGER IN THE SHADOWS
The bedroom on the third floor was vast, lined with pale linen and dark cherrywood.
Genevieve sat at the foot of a king-sized bed, wearing a thick, cream-colored cashmere sweater and dark trousers that Rosa had brought her.
Her hair was damp from the shower, combed back from her face.
On the mahogany desk sat a military-grade encrypted laptop.
Beside it lay the silver compass locket.
Lorenzo stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the gray waves crash against the rocky shore below.
He had changed into a dark turtleneck sweater and charcoal slacks.
He looked less like a mafia boss and more like an apex predator resting between hunts.
“The warrant was signed at four this morning,” Lorenzo said, not turning around.
“Judge Carl Vance.”
“Preston Gable’s maternal uncle.”
Genevieve adjusted the bandage around her right foot.
“They moved faster than I thought.”
“Desperation makes men efficient,” Lorenzo said.
He turned toward her.
“Your father’s credit lines with the European banks collapsed at midnight.”
“He has forty-eight hours to produce the South Brooklyn deeds, or his lenders seize Harrington Maritime’s headquarters on Wall Street.”
Genevieve opened the laptop.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“They won't find the secondary accounts on my office computer,” she said quietly.
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
“You kept backups?”
“Of course I did.”
She looked up at him, her hazel eyes sharp and clear.
“Do you think I lived in that house for five years without realizing what my father was?”
“I watched him promise my mother’s jewelry to three different creditors before she was even cold.”
“I learned to keep receipts before I learned to drive.”
She began typing rapidly.
Complex strings of alphanumeric code scrolled across the dark screen.
Lorenzo walked over, leaning over her shoulder to watch.
The scent of cedar and clean soap washed over her senses again.
His chest was inches from her back, broad and solid as a fortress wall.
“Where is the data stored?” he asked.
“In the public cloud archive of the New York Public Library,” Genevieve said.
A faint, proud smile touched her lips.
“Disguised as high-resolution scans of nineteenth-century maritime trade routes.”
A soft, low chuckle escaped Lorenzo’s throat.
It was a rich, genuine sound that sent a strange shiver down her spine.
“You hid three million dollars of illicit wire transfers in public historical archives?”
“Nobody looks for criminal ledgers in the history section, Mr. Costa.”
“They look in offshore accounts and encrypted Cayman drives.”
She hit the enter key.
A massive spreadsheet populated the display.
Thousands of lines of financial data glowed in green and white.
Lorenzo’s expression hardened as his eyes scanned the columns.
He reached down, his fingers brushing hers on the trackpad as he scrolled.
“Here,” Lorenzo pointed with a scarred forefinger.
“Transfer 884-Bravo.”
“One point two million dollars moved from Costa Logistics Account Four to an entity named Gable Maritime Holdings.”
Genevieve nodded.
“Signed with my digital keycard.”
“Except look at the timestamp.”
Lorenzo looked.
“October 14th. Three-fifteen in the morning.”
“On October 14th, I was in the emergency room at Mount Sinai with severe pneumonia,” Genevieve said.
“I have the hospital admission logs.”
“I have the IV medication chart.”
“I was unconscious on oxygen when that transfer was executed from my father’s private study.”
Lorenzo straightened up.
His jaw was set in granite.
“Preston Gable executed the transfer himself.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And my father authorized the override password.”
Genevieve turned in the leather swivel chair to look at him.
“This proves my innocence, Lorenzo.”
“If we give this to the federal prosecutors—”
“The federal prosecutors won't look at it, Genevieve,” Lorenzo interrupted, his voice dropping into cold reality.
“Why not?”
“Because District Attorney Miller is running for governor next autumn.”
“Gable’s family is his largest campaign donor.”
“They will delete this file, destroy your hospital records, and claim you manufactured the evidence to save yourself.”
Genevieve felt the cold dread return, heavier this time.
“Then what do we do?”
Lorenzo reached down and picked up the silver compass locket.
He weighed it in his hand.
“We don't go to court, Genevieve.”
“In my world, when someone steals three million dollars and frames an innocent woman,”
“we don't file a motion.”
“We take their empire apart piece by bloody piece.”
May you like
He looked into her eyes.
“Starting with your sister’s wedding.”
