Chapter 4 - The Ledger of Secrets
By three o'clock in the morning, the blizzard had reached its peak, howling outside the thick limestone walls of DeLuca House like a trapped leviathan. Inside the private study on the second floor, the atmosphere was even colder.
A roaring fire crackled in the hearth, but it did little to thaw the glacial silence in the room.
Claire was resting safely in the master guest suite upstairs under the care of a private physician, her core temperature slowly stabilizing, though she remained deep in an exhausted, feverish sleep.
Downstairs, Roman DeLuca sat behind his massive mahogany desk. Spread out before him were three encrypted folders, a stack of phone records, and the crumpled notepad he had found in Claire’s pocket.
Marcus stood rigidly by the door, holding a digital tablet.
"Talk to me, Marcus," Roman said without looking up, his voice dangerously flat.
"We pulled the security footage from the south lawn and the service hall, Boss," Marcus reported, his voice low and professional. "You were right. Miss Bennett didn't walk out into that storm willingly. At 9:02 PM, Miss Mercer cornered her in the service hall. We recovered the audio from the service intercom mic."
Marcus tapped the tablet, playing a recording through the room's speakers.
“You don't want tonight to become expensive for your family, do you?” Vivian’s voice rang out, clear, cold, and dripping with malice.
Roman’s eyes narrowed into slits. He listened as the recording continued—the veiled threats regarding Lily Bennett’s medical facility, the deliberate assignment of a task designed to humiliate, and finally, the confirmation that carriage house security latch had been dropped by one of Vivian’s personal security guards, a man named Henderson.
"Where is Henderson?" Roman asked quietly.
"Locked in the lower security holding cells," Marcus replied. "He cracked within five minutes of questioning. He admitted that Miss Mercer promised him ten thousand dollars if he ensured the girl spent at least twenty minutes locked in the unheated cellar."
Roman stared at the notepad on his desk, tracing the numbers representing the $184,000 debt.
"What do we know about this debt?" Roman asked.
"That’s where it gets interesting, Boss," Marcus said, stepping closer and laying down a financial ledger. "Miss Bennett’s father passed away two years ago leaving behind a mountain of medical debt from his younger daughter’s spinal treatments. Six months ago, that debt was bought out by a private holding company called Meridian Capital."
Roman looked up. "Meridian Capital is a front."
"Yes, sir," Marcus nodded. "A front owned and operated by Arthur Mercer—Vivian’s father."
The silence in the study deepened until it felt heavy enough to crush bone.
Vivian hadn't just bullied a kitchen maid. She had weaponized a predatory loan shark operation—one operating right under the nose of the DeLuca syndicate without Roman’s authorization—to trap an innocent young woman, extort her labor, and systematically destroy her family.
And tonight, she had tried to freeze her to death because Claire had dared to look her in the eye and refuse to cower.
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Roman stood up slowly. He didn't look angry. He looked terrifyingly calm.
"Get Arthur Mercer on the secure line," Roman said softly. "And bring Vivian down here. It’s time to discuss family business."
