Chapter 4 - THE MAN BESIDE THE THRONE
Elena did not accuse Carlo.
Accountants survived by proving things.
So did women surrounded by armed men.
She stepped away from his embrace and pretended she had noticed nothing.
“Is Domenico going to live?”
Carlo’s face arranged itself into paternal concern.
“He’s a Ricci.”
Not an answer.
Elena sat again.
At 9:16, the surgeon emerged.
The bullet had missed Domenico’s heart by less than an inch.
He would live.
Relief hit Elena so violently she had to grip the chair.
Carlo noticed.
“So it wasn’t merely business.”
She looked at him.
“I never said it was.”
His smile thinned.
Domenico remained unconscious for six hours.
Elena spent those hours auditing Carlo Ricci.
She found the first discrepancy before noon.
A construction company controlled by Carlo had paid consulting fees to a London security corporation.
That corporation belonged to Ashford.
Seven years of payments.
Seven years of betrayal.
Domenico woke at 4:38 p.m.
Elena was beside him.
His eyes focused slowly.
“You stayed.”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
His mouth almost curved.
She leaned close.
“Carlo has the ledger.”
The smile vanished.
Domenico listened while she explained.
When she finished, he closed his eyes.
“My father trusted him.”
“So did you.”
“He raised me after my father died.”
Elena saw the wound that sentence caused.
Not physical.
“Then we prove it.”
“How?”
She pulled a laptop onto the bed.
“By doing what you hired me for.”
They built a trap.
Elena created a false account containing twenty million dollars and fabricated documents suggesting Antonio Bruno’s missing evidence had been digitized there.
Only three people received the account number.
Domenico.
Elena.
Carlo.
Nineteen minutes later, someone attempted access from a server tied to Ashford.
Domenico stared at the screen.
Proof.
But Elena shook her head.
“Not enough.”
“It is for me.”
“It isn’t for your captains. Carlo will claim I framed him.”
Domenico knew she was right.
The Ricci organization ran on loyalty, fear, and tradition. Killing a respected elder without undeniable proof could fracture everything.
So Elena offered something more dangerous.
Herself.
“No.”
Domenico’s answer shook the room.
“Ashford wants me.”
“No.”
“He thinks I can unlock my father’s network.”
“No.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
“No.”
She leaned over his hospital bed.
“Then give me another plan.”
Silence.
She had him.
Two nights later, Elena walked alone into an old hotel bar near Lake Michigan.
A wire rested beneath her blouse.
Ricci men surrounded the block.
Ashford arrived exactly on time.
He was handsome in a bloodless way, gray-eyed and controlled.
“You look like Antonio.”
“I look like my mother.”
“That temper is Antonio.”
“Where is Carlo?”
Ashford smiled.
“Straight to business.”
“I’m an accountant.”
He ordered tea.
Elena ordered nothing.
Ashford told her the story Carlo never would.
Salvatore Ricci and Antonio Bruno had discovered Carlo siphoning money from both legitimate construction projects and criminal operations.
Carlo had partnered with Ashford to build his own network.
When Salvatore threatened to expose him, Carlo arranged his death.
Antonio kept evidence.
So Carlo killed him too.
Elena’s fingernails dug into her palm.
“You murdered my father.”
Ashford shook his head.
“Carlo did.”
“And you helped.”
“I facilitated.”
“You’re very particular about vocabulary for a murderer.”
Ashford smiled.
Then he leaned closer.
“The interesting question is why Domenico never told you.”
Elena stiffened.
“Told me what?”
“Your father’s car didn’t go over that bridge empty.”
Her heart stopped.
Ashford placed a photograph on the table.
Antonio Bruno stood beside Salvatore Ricci.
Between them was a boy.
Marco.
But the date printed on the photograph was impossible.
Marco was supposedly in school that day.
Elena looked up.
“What is this?”
“Ask your brother what he remembers.”
Ashford stood.
“Or ask Domenico.”
“Why Domenico?”
Ashford buttoned his coat.
“Because he found your brother in that car.”
Elena stared at him.
“Domenico was there the night my father died?”
Ashford smiled.
“He was the last person to see Antonio Bruno alive.”
Then every light in the hotel went out.
Gunfire exploded.
Elena dropped.
Someone grabbed her.
She fought violently until a familiar voice reached her.
“Elena!”
Domenico.
He had left the hospital.
“You idiot!” she shouted.
“Later.”
He pulled her behind the bar as bullets tore through glass.
When Ricci reinforcements arrived, Ashford had disappeared.
Again.
But Elena no longer cared.
She turned toward Domenico.
Blood seeped through his reopened stitches.
“You were there.”
He knew immediately what she meant.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because your father made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
Domenico looked at her with an expression she had never seen.
Shame.
“To let you believe he died in an accident.”
Elena slapped him.
The room went silent.
Domenico did not move.
Her eyes filled.
“Five years.”
“I know.”
“You watched me mourn him for five years while knowing the truth.”
“Yes.”
“I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Domenico swallowed.
“Because your father wasn’t killed on that bridge, Elena.”
She froze.
May you like
Domenico’s next words destroyed everything she believed.
“He survived the crash.”
