Chapter 6 - The Ledger Beneath the Floor
Nero didn't sleep.
Lark knew because she didn't either.
At three in the morning, she found him standing beside the penthouse windows with a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched.
“Your father knew what?”
Nero didn't turn.
“I've been asking myself that for six hours.”
Lark joined him.
Las Vegas glittered beneath them.
From this height, everything looked clean.
That was the Meridian's trick.
Polished marble above.
Rot underneath.
“My father wanted to sell the casino,” Nero finally said.
Lark looked at him.
“Why?”
“He never told me.”
“How long before he died?”
“Three weeks.”
That changed the shape of everything.
Nero continued.
“He called me the night before the crash. We argued.”
“About what?”
“I wanted more responsibility. He said I wasn't ready.”
Nero's voice lowered.
“I told him I didn't need him.”
Lark remained silent.
“He died the next morning.”
“You were twenty-four.”
“I was old enough to choose better words.”
“You were young enough to believe you'd have another chance.”
He finally looked at her.
Nobody spoke to Nero like that.
Not anymore.
Lark leaned against the glass.
“My last conversation with my mother was an argument.”
Nero's expression softened.
“I didn't know.”
“I was nine. She told me to clean my room. I told her I hated her.”
Her throat tightened despite all the years between then and now.
“My parents went out that evening. Drunk driver hit them.”
“Lark.”
“For years, I thought my last words mattered more than every time I told her I loved her.”
She looked at him.
“They don't.”
Silence settled.
Then Nero reached for her hand.
Not possessively.
Not romantically.
Just there.
Warm.
Steady.
She let him hold it.
The next morning, Auntie Bee interrupted breakfast by dropping an old newspaper onto the table.
“I found something.”
Nero looked at the headline.
LOCAL HOTEL EXECUTIVE KILLED IN MOUNTAIN CRASH.
“Bee—”
“Read the second column.”
A smaller story reported a federal investigation into several shell companies linked to Nevada casinos.
One company was Bellweather.
The investigation ended after the lead witness died.
Alessandro Marquetti.
Nero stared.
“My father was cooperating with federal investigators.”
Lark understood.
“He wanted out.”
“Or he wanted Salvatore out.”
They needed proof.
Nero remembered his father's old private office beneath the original Meridian administration wing.
It had been sealed during renovations.
That afternoon, Nero, Lark, and Dominic entered through a maintenance passage.
Dust covered everything.
The room hadn't been touched in years.
Lark ran her fingers across the old desk.
“You look disappointed,” Nero said.
“I expected secret buttons.”
“This isn't a movie.”
Five minutes later, Dominic pressed a hidden panel and part of the wall opened.
Lark stared at Nero.
“Not a movie?”
He ignored her.
Inside was a narrow compartment.
Empty.
Almost.
Lark noticed scratches in the floor.
“Help me move the desk.”
Beneath it was a loose tile.
Under the tile sat a metal box.
Nero opened it.
Inside were ledgers.
Photographs.
Bank statements.
And a cassette recorder.
“Your father kept receipts,” Lark whispered.
Nero opened the first ledger.
Millions had been laundered through fake consulting contracts.
Salvatore's name appeared repeatedly.
So did Julian Cross's.
Then Nero found something worse.
Payments to city officials.
Security contractors.
A mechanic.
The mechanic who inspected Alessandro's car before the fatal crash.
Nero sat down.
Lark crouched beside him.
“That's not proof they killed him.”
“No.”
“But it's enough to keep looking.”
He nodded.
Dominic inserted batteries into the recorder.
A man's voice crackled through the speaker.
Alessandro.
“If Nero hears this, then I failed to get us out.”
Nero froze.
The recording continued.
“Salvatore believes the Meridian belongs to the family. He doesn't understand that the family is exactly what I'm trying to save Nero from.”
Nero's eyes closed.
“I've documented everything. Julian knows I intend to turn it over tomorrow.”
Then Alessandro said:
“If something happens to me, do not trust—”
The tape distorted.
Static swallowed several seconds.
Then stopped.
Lark exhaled.
“Of course.”
Dominic checked the cassette.
“Damaged.”
Nero picked up another envelope.
His name was written across it.
Inside was a letter.
Son,
If you're reading this, then I ran out of time.
Nero's hand shook.
Only slightly.
Lark pretended not to notice.
The letter revealed that Alessandro had established a protected employee trust shortly before his death.
Five percent of Meridian profits were supposed to fund pensions, medical emergencies, scholarships, and employee housing assistance.
Nero stared at the paperwork.
“I've never seen this.”
“Because somebody buried it,” Lark said.
The missing tips were tiny compared with the real theft.
Over twelve years, the trust should have accumulated tens of millions.
Instead, it had been emptied.
And someone had forged Nero's signatures to do it.
Lark turned the final page.
A beneficiary list appeared.
Hundreds of employee names.
One caught her attention.
Beatrice Hennessy.
“Auntie Bee?”
Nero looked.
Bee had worked at the Meridian twenty-seven years earlier.
Lark called her.
Bee went silent when she heard.
“Yes,” she finally admitted. “I worked there.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
“Did you know Nero's father?”
Another silence.
“Bee?”
“I knew Alessandro.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to know he was trying to change.”
Nero took the phone.
“Ms. Hennessy, what aren't you telling us?”
Bee's voice became quiet.
“The night before your father died, he came to my apartment.”
Nero's face drained.
“Why?”
“He gave me something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
Nero stood.
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Bee hesitated.
Then:
“Inside Lark's mother's wedding ring.”
Lark stopped breathing.
“My mother's what?”
Bee's voice cracked.
“Baby, there are things about your parents' death I never told you.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What things?”
“Your parents weren't on that road by accident.”
Lark gripped the desk.
Bee continued.
“They were going to meet Alessandro Marquetti.”
May you like
Nero and Lark looked at each other.
“And whatever he wanted to give them,” Bee whispered, “someone was willing to kill to stop them from getting it.”
