Chapter 9 - Blood in the Ledger
Dean began stealing the empire before Massimo was dead.
That was his next mistake.
Luca discovered unauthorized transfers moving through three port companies.
Millions disappeared into accounts connected to Dean’s associates.
Camille’s family office received consulting payments.
Nathan Ashwood received debt relief from lenders tied to Rinaldi businesses.
The conspiracy was no longer merely murder.
It was dismantling.
Massimo sat with his longtime attorney, Samuel Greer, until dawn.
Samuel was seventy-one.
He had represented Massimo’s father.
He had represented Massimo’s grandfather.
And unlike most men around the Rinaldi empire, Samuel had never wanted a piece of it.
“This is enough to destroy the trust petition.”
Massimo stared at the documents.
“Not enough.”
Samuel frowned.
“For court?”
“For me.”
Massimo tapped Dean’s transactions.
“I want every person who touched this money identified.”
“That may take weeks.”
“You have nine days.”
Samuel sighed.
“You’ve always been unreasonable.”
“My father said the same thing.”
“Your father was worse.”
That almost made Massimo smile.
Samuel grew serious.
“What happens after?”
Massimo looked up.
“After what?”
“After you survive.”
The question surprised him.
Samuel continued.
“You’ve spent your entire life protecting an empire built by men who assumed fear was the same thing as loyalty.”
Massimo said nothing.
“And now the people closest to you are trying to murder you for pieces of it.”
“What’s your point?”
“Maybe the empire is the problem.”
Massimo’s face hardened.
“Careful.”
“I’ve known you since you were six.”
Samuel leaned forward.
“I’m too old to be careful.”
Massimo almost laughed.
Samuel continued.
“If you walk out of this alive, decide what you actually want to keep.”
The words stayed with Massimo.
For thirty-eight years, he had never imagined life outside the Rinaldi machine.
His grandfather built it.
His father died protecting it.
Massimo inherited it at twenty-nine.
Everything was about preserving the name.
The territory.
The structure.
But now he looked at Carla raising Nina inside a mansion where people discussed children as “unnecessary witnesses.”
For the first time, Massimo wondered whether survival was enough.
That evening, Dean tested him.
Massimo was alone near the grand staircase.
Dean walked behind the wheelchair.
“Need help?”
“No.”
Dean grabbed the handles anyway.
Massimo felt the chair move.
Then suddenly accelerate.
Dean pushed him toward the stairs.
Massimo’s body reacted before his mind did.
His feet pressed against the footrests.
His hands gripped the wheels.
Every instinct screamed at him to stand.
At the final second, Dean stopped the chair.
The front wheels hung inches from the first step.
Massimo stared down at the staircase.
Dean laughed.
“Relax.”
Massimo slowly looked over his shoulder.
“What the hell was that?”
“Checking your reflexes.”
“Why?”
Dean walked around him.
“Because you’ve been acting different.”
Massimo made himself breathe.
“Maybe attempted murder improved my personality.”
Dean crouched.
Their faces were level.
“You know what I think?”
Massimo waited.
“I think you’re hiding something.”
Massimo stared at him.
Then slapped Dean across the face.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the hall.
Guards turned.
Camille appeared in the doorway.
Dean straightened slowly.
Massimo’s voice carried across the marble.
“Touch my chair like that again and I’ll have your hands broken.”
Silence.
Dean touched his cheek.
Then smiled.
“There he is.”
Massimo glared at him.
Dean walked away.
But Massimo understood what had just happened.
Dean was suspicious.
The timeline had changed.
That night, Massimo trained harder.
He walked across the entire winter garden using only a cane.
Elena followed close behind.
“Slow down.”
“No.”
“Your right leg is compensating.”
“I have eight days.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because time keeps moving.”
Massimo reached the opposite wall.
He was drenched in sweat.
Nina sat on the floor nearby coloring.
She looked up.
“You walk funny.”
Massimo stared at her.
Luca covered his mouth.
Elena turned away to hide a smile.
Massimo pointed the cane at Nina.
“You’re fired.”
Nina giggled.
“I don’t work here.”
Massimo blinked.
Luca finally laughed.
For several seconds, the secret room felt almost normal.
Then Nina held up another drawing.
“I made the wedding.”
Massimo looked.
A bride.
A groom.
A huge cake.
A black figure behind them.
“Who’s that?”
“Uncle Dean.”
“What is he holding?”
Nina shrugged.
“A red book.”
Massimo’s smile disappeared.
“What red book?”
“The one from the little room.”
Carla looked up sharply.
“What little room?”
“Behind the wine.”
Massimo stared at Luca.
The estate wine cellar contained an old service chamber no longer shown on modern plans.
They searched it at two in the morning.
Behind a false panel sat a locked metal box.
Inside was a red ledger.
Dean’s handwriting filled the pages.
Payments.
Names.
Dates.
Route changes.
Security schedules.
Money sent to the shooters.
Money paid to Hale.
Money transferred from Ashwood accounts.
And near the final page, one entry made Massimo’s blood run cold.
M.R. final settlement — 11/21.
The wedding date.
Beside it was a payment.
Ten million dollars.
Recipient:
D.F.
Dean Foster.
May you like
The man who had once thrown himself across Massimo Rinaldi during an ambush had placed a price on Massimo’s death.
And he intended to collect it on his wedding day.
