Chapter 17 - The Ledger of Ghosts
Elias Vane’s ledger had never been found.
According to Catherine, it documented every illegal payment made through the Duca shipping network during the old war.
Politicians.
Police officers.
Judges.
Union leaders.
And rival families.
“If Kessler wants it destroyed,” Clara said, “his family must be in it.”
They sat around Roman’s private strategy table.
Catherine rested nearby beneath medical supervision.
She looked exhausted but determined.
“Elias told Sofia he had copied everything,” she said. “Antonio’s payments and Salvatore Marcone’s. But there was a third investor.”
“Kessler’s grandfather?” Marcus asked.
Catherine nodded.
“Arthur Kessler.”
Roman’s expression sharpened.
The Kessler empire had been built through construction and defense contracts shortly after the war.
“If Arthur funded both sides,” Roman said, “he profited regardless of who won.”
Clara understood.
“War created destroyed neighborhoods. Destroyed docks. Reconstruction contracts.”
Adrian looked disgusted.
“So his family made billions rebuilding what they helped destroy.”
Catherine nodded.
“Elias discovered it.”
Roman leaned back.
“And Daniel has spent years presenting himself as the victim of the Ducas.”
“Both can be true,” Clara said.
Roman looked at her.
“His grandfather could have been guilty while his mother still suffered because of mine.”
Roman’s gaze softened.
“You always insist on making things complicated.”
“People usually are.”
Marcus received an alert.
“We have a visitor at the south gate.”
Roman frowned.
“Who?”
“A federal prosecutor.”
Everyone fell silent.
“Name?”
“Emily Rhodes.”
Roman actually laughed.
“Of course.”
Adrian looked confused.
“Who is she?”
“The woman who has been trying to put me in prison for six years.”
Clara raised an eyebrow.
“You never mentioned her.”
“I was hoping she would become discouraged.”
Marcus gave Roman a dry look.
“She is not discouraged.”
Prosecutor Rhodes entered carrying no weapon and no visible fear.
She was forty-five, sharply dressed, with intelligent gray eyes.
“Roman.”
“Emily.”
“Still alive.”
“Despite your best efforts.”
“I prosecute criminals. I do not shoot them.”
“Less efficient.”
Rhodes looked toward Clara.
“You must be the miracle worker.”
Clara almost smiled.
Roman did not.
“What do you want?”
Rhodes placed a folder on the table.
“Daniel Kessler.”
Roman’s expression changed.
She continued.
“My office has investigated his foundation for three years. Money laundering. Bribery. Illegal private intelligence contracts.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because this morning someone murdered my lead investigator.”
Silence.
Rhodes opened the folder.
Crime-scene photographs.
A man had been killed inside his apartment.
On the wall, written in blood, were two words.
DUCA LEDGER.
Rhodes looked at Roman.
“Kessler thinks you have it.”
“I don’t.”
“I believe you.”
That surprised everyone.
Rhodes sat down.
“But he will keep killing until he finds it.”
Adrian crossed his arms.
“And what do you want?”
“The ledger.”
Roman laughed.
“Everybody does.”
“If it contains what I think it contains, I can dismantle corruption networks that survived for decades.”
“And prosecute my dead father?”
“Your father is beyond prosecution.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
Rhodes looked directly at him.
“But you aren’t.”
The room chilled.
Clara stepped between them conversationally.
“If Roman helps you?”
Rhodes glanced at her.
“I am authorized to discuss immunity for historical financial offenses connected to the recovered evidence.”
Marcus muttered, “There’s always a trap.”
Rhodes heard him.
“Yes. It’s called federal law.”
For the first time, Adrian smiled.
Roman noticed.
“Don’t encourage her.”
Rhodes pulled out another photograph.
“Elias Vane left one clue.”
It showed a bank deposit box key photographed decades earlier.
The key number was visible.
Catherine stared.
“I know that number.”
Everyone turned.
“That was Sofia’s wedding date.”
Roman looked at the image.
Then at Clara.
“The ledger is in a bank.”
Rhodes shook her head.
“We checked every bank tied to Elias.”
Clara examined the photo.
“There’s something engraved behind the key.”
She enlarged the image.
A word appeared.
ORPHEUS.
Roman went completely still.
Marcus noticed.
“You know it?”
Roman nodded.
“Orpheus wasn’t a bank.”
He stood.
May you like
“It was my mother’s piano.”
And that piano still sat inside the Duca estate.
