Chapter 3 - Secrets in the LedgerCharles Vance was hyperventilating as Lorenzo’s enforcer pulled the duct tape off his mouth with a sharp rip.
“Please! Please, Mr. Conti, I didn't know! Victor forced me to certify the painting! He said if I didn't get Christie’s to list it, he’d release compromising financial records that would send me to federal prison!” Charles sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he slumped forward in the wooden chair.
Isabella stood beside Lorenzo, looking down at her former director with a mixture of pity and utter disgust.
“Where is Victor now, Charles?” Isabella asked, her voice cold and steady.
“I—I don't know! He’s running an underground auction house out of an old brownstone on the Upper East Side! He’s selling three more fake Renaissance pieces tonight to foreign buyers!”
Lorenzo stepped forward, crouching down so he was eye-level with the trembling director. He rested one large hand casually on Charles’s shoulder.
“If you’re lying to me, Charles, my men will throw you into the Hudson with concrete boots before the tide comes in,” Lorenzo said pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. “If you’re telling the truth, you’ll spend the next ten years in a federal penitentiary where your brother can’t protect you.”
Charles nodded frantically. “It’s the truth! Look at the laptop—Arthur has all the shipping manifests, all the bank transfers! Arthur, show him!”
The terrified IT specialist standing by the laptop frantically began typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Here! Here are the wire transfers from Victor’s shell corporation to the forger in Florence! The whole operation is logged right here!”
Lorenzo stood up, glancing at the screen before nodding to his chief enforcer, Rocco. “Secure the drive. Lock Charles in the back office until morning.”
As Rocco hauled the weeping director away, Lorenzo turned his attention back to Isabella.
She stood staring at the open laptop screen, her mind racing. The digital records displayed dozens of fraudulent art transactions, shell companies, and—most importantly—the stolen deeds to her family’s historic estate in upstate New York, which Victor Vance had illegally seized four years ago.
“My family’s home,” Isabella whispered, her finger tracing the screen. “Victor stole it using forged mortgage documents. It’s listed right here under one of his dummy accounts.”
Lorenzo stepped up behind her, his chest brushing against her shoulder as he looked down at the monitor. His presence was a solid, grounding heat in the chilly warehouse.
“Victor likes playing with fire,” Lorenzo murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “He stole your legacy. And he tried to steal five million dollars from me. That makes our interests remarkably aligned.”
Isabella turned her head, finding herself only inches away from his face. She could see the dark lashes framing his piercing eyes, the sharp slope of his jaw, and the faint scar over his brow.
“What are you proposing, Mr. Conti?” she asked breathlessly.
“I am proposing a partnership,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. “You help me infiltrate Victor’s underground auction on the Upper East Side tonight. You authenticate the remaining forgeries in front of his buyers, and you publicly expose him as a fraud.”
“And my family’s estate?”
“Once Victor’s empire collapses tonight,” Lorenzo promised softly, “the deeds will be transferred back into your name before sunrise. Legally, permanently, and with my personal guarantee that Victor will never bother you again.”
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Isabella looked deep into his dark eyes, searching for deceit and finding only absolute, terrifying resolve. She knew playing games with a mafia boss was dancing with the devil. But for the chance to reclaim her family’s honor—and destroy the man who ruined her life—she would burn the world down.
“All right, Mr. Conti,” Isabella said, lifting her chin. “Let’s go ruin Victor Vance.”
