Chapter 3 - The Ledger Beneath the KeysHer father had left a warning about Enzo, but not the warning she expected.
Sophia read the sentence three times.
Do not trust my daughter with him.
Enzo stood beside her.
He could not see the paper yet.
"What does it say?"
She folded it.
"Nothing."
"You've become terrible at lying."
She looked at him.
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep proving me right."
He reached for the note.
She pulled it away.
For the first time that night, Enzo looked genuinely irritated.
"Give it to me."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know whether I trust you."
A strange expression crossed his face.
Approval.
Not warmth.
Something harder.
"Good."
He lowered his gun.
"You shouldn't trust me."
She blinked.
He turned toward the piano.
"Your father didn't either."
Sophia looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
Before Enzo could answer, the back door opened.
Rocco entered with two men.
"Boss. We found blood."
"Whose?"
"Not ours."
Sophia's heart tightened.
"Where?"
Rocco pointed toward the alley.
They followed him.
Behind the club, snow had begun falling.
A dark trail ran across the concrete.
At the end of it was a dead man.
Sophia stopped.
He was young.
Late twenties.
A black tattoo circled his wrist.
A triangle containing a Roman numeral three.
Her father had once drawn that symbol on a piece of paper and told her never to forget it.
Enzo saw her reaction.
"You know him."
"No."
He stepped closer.
"You know the symbol."
She said nothing.
Rocco crouched beside the body.
"Chinese-made pistol. Suppressor. Professional."
Enzo examined the dead man's pocket.
Inside was a second photograph.
This one was older.
A family.
Judge Marcus Castellan.
Sophia at sixteen.
Her mother beside them.
And standing behind the judge was Lorenzo Valente.
Sophia stared.
She had no memory of that photograph.
Enzo looked at her.
"I was there the night that picture was taken."
"Why?"
"Your father invited me."
"Why would a judge invite a Mafia boss into his home?"
Enzo's jaw tightened.
"He didn't invite a Mafia boss."
He looked at the photograph.
"He invited a witness."
Sophia's breath caught.
"A witness to what?"
"Your father had discovered a network inside the court system."
"Corruption?"
"Worse."
Enzo glanced at the dead man.
"Judges. Police officers. prosecutors. businessmen. Politicians."
"How many?"
"Enough."
Sophia remembered her father locking his study door.
The whispered phone calls.
The stacks of documents.
The night he told her:
"Whatever happens, never trust the man who says he already knows the truth."
She had thought he meant the prosecutor.
Maybe he'd meant someone else.
"Where's my mother?"
Enzo looked at her.
Sophia's expression changed.
"Don't."
He remained silent.
"Where is she?"
"Dead."
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"My father said she was going to Switzerland."
"He lied."
Sophia staggered backward.
Enzo caught her elbow.
She pulled away violently.
"You knew?"
"I knew she disappeared."
"When?"
"Three months before the fire."
Her eyes filled with fury.
"You knew my mother was missing and you never told me?"
"I didn't know you were alive."
Sophia wiped her eyes.
"Then why did someone tell me three years ago that you were responsible?"
Enzo froze.
"Who told you?"
"Anonymous letters."
"How many?"
"Seven."
"What did they say?"
"That my father trusted you. That you betrayed him. That you caused the fire."
Enzo stared into the snow.
"For three years," he said, "I believed the same thing about someone else."
Sophia frowned.
"Who?"
"My own brother."
The silence between them changed.
Rocco looked away.
Enzo had never spoken about his brother.
Sophia understood why.
The subject was dangerous.
"His name?"
"Matteo."
"What happened?"
"He disappeared the night before your father's fire."
Sophia's skin prickled.
"Did anyone find him?"
"No."
"Then why blame him?"
"Because I found his watch in your father's study."
Sophia stared.
Everything was beginning to connect.
The fire.
Her mother's disappearance.
The mysterious symbol.
The music.
Matteo.
The ledger.
Enzo reached into his coat.
"I've spent three years trying to find one thing."
"What?"
"The Black Ledger."
She looked at him.
"What is that?"
"The record of every payment made to every corrupt official involved in the network."
Sophia thought of the brass key.
Her father's handwriting.
The warning.
"The piano."
Enzo looked at her.
"What?"
"My father hid something there."
She hurried inside.
Enzo followed.
The compartment beneath the keyboard was still open.
Sophia examined the wood.
Nothing.
Then she noticed a tiny brass keyhole behind the left pedal.
Her hands shook.
She inserted the key.
Click.
A section of the piano's wooden frame released.
Behind it was a narrow cavity.
Inside lay a black leather ledger.
Enzo stopped breathing.
Sophia slowly pulled it out.
The cover was burned along one edge.
Her father's initials were stamped into the leather.
M.C.
Enzo reached for it.
Sophia stepped back.
"Wait."
A thin envelope was underneath.
She opened it.
One photograph fell out.
A courthouse corridor.
A date stamped in the corner.
Three years ago.
And in the background stood two men.
One was Matteo Valente.
The other was Judge Marcus Castellan.
Alive.
Two hours before the fire.
Sophia's fingers began to shake.
"That means..."
Enzo stared at the photograph.
His voice came quietly.
"Matteo was with your father the night he supposedly disappeared."
Sophia turned the photograph over.
There was a message.
Only one sentence.
Tell Enzo his brother did not betray him.
Then a second line appeared beneath it in red ink.
I did.
Sophia looked up.
Enzo was already reaching for his gun.
Someone inside the club whispered:
"Boss?"
A gunshot came from the corridor.
Then Rocco screamed.
And the ledger vanished from Sophia's hands.CHAPTER 4-The Brother in the PhotographThe dead man in Enzo's family might be alive, and someone was willing to kill for that secret.
Sophia spun around.
The ledger was gone.
A figure in black sprinted across the corridor.
Enzo fired once.
The bullet tore into the wall.
"Rocco!"
No answer.
Sophia ran after the thief.
Her shoes slipped against broken glass.
The figure disappeared through a service door.
She reached it.
Locked.
Enzo arrived seconds later.
He kicked it open.
The alley beyond was empty.
Snow covered everything.
Except for one line of footprints.
Going toward the street.
Enzo crouched.
"Too clean."
Sophia stared at him.
"What?"
"Someone planted those."
He looked at the rooftops.
"They knew where the cameras were."
Sophia's stomach tightened.
"So this was planned."
"From the beginning."
Rocco stumbled from the corridor.
Blood soaked his sleeve.
"Boss."
Enzo rushed toward him.
"You're hit."
"Graze."
Rocco looked at Sophia.
"Someone got into the piano room."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Enzo's face hardened.
Rocco lowered his voice.
"They knew the security system."
Sophia understood.
"Someone who works here."
Enzo looked toward the club.
Rick.
They went back inside.
The manager was gone.
His office door stood open.
Enzo didn't speak.
He simply walked in.
The safe was open.
Files were scattered everywhere.
On the desk sat Rick's phone.
Enzo picked it up.
One message had been sent five minutes earlier.
The girl found the ledger.
Recipient unknown.
Sophia felt sick.
"They've been watching me."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
Enzo stared at the phone.
"Three weeks."
She looked at him sharply.
"Since I started here?"
"Probably before."
"Then why let me stay?"
He met her eyes.
"Because I didn't know you were Sophia."
She studied him.
"Would you have fired me if you had?"
"No."
"Why?"
Enzo looked away.
"I don't know."
That answer unsettled her.
He turned to Rocco.
"Find Rick."
Rocco nodded.
Sophia walked toward the desk.
A folded piece of paper lay beneath Rick's keyboard.
She opened it.
A handwritten list.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
At the bottom was a single name underlined three times.
Lorenzo Valente.
Sophia looked up.
Enzo saw the page.
His face became blank.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"I never took money from the people on this list."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect nothing from you."
He took the paper.
His eyes moved across the numbers.
Then stopped.
A payment dated two days before her father's death.
Sophia saw it.
"That's you."
"It isn't."
"It's your signature."
"No."
She pointed.
"It's signed L. Valente."
Enzo shook his head.
"My signature has changed."
"What?"
"Three years ago, I signed with an open L."
He tapped the page.
"This one closes at the top."
Sophia stared.
Someone had forged his name.
Enzo looked toward Rocco.
"Get me every document from the fire investigation."
"Already did."
Rocco handed him a folder.
Enzo opened it.
Three pages were missing.
"Who removed these?"
"Internal affairs."
Sophia stared.
"Internal affairs?"
"Yes."
"What was on them?"
Rocco answered.
"Evidence concerning Matteo."
Enzo went still.
"Give me everything."
Rocco handed him a photocopy.
Sophia read it.
SUBJECT: MATTEO VALENTE
Status: presumed deceased.
Last known location: Castellan residence.
Unconfirmed witness reports suggest subject exited residence alive.
Her eyes widened.
"Alive."
Enzo closed his eyes.
Three years.
He had mourned his brother for three years.
He had believed Matteo had betrayed him.
He had ordered men to search rivers, warehouses, borders.
Nothing.
And now there was a report.
A witness had seen Matteo leave alive.
Sophia looked at him.
"Your brother survived."
Enzo's voice was barely audible.
"Maybe."
"Then where is he?"
A phone rang.
Rocco answered.
His face changed.
"Boss."
"What?"
"They found Rick."
"Where?"
"At the train depot."
"Alive?"
"No."
Sophia closed her eyes.
Enzo turned toward her.
"Someone is cleaning up."
She looked at him.
"Why kill Rick?"
"Because he talked."
"About the ledger?"
"No."
"What then?"
Enzo looked toward the piano.
"About you."
Sophia stepped closer.
"What did he know?"
Before Enzo could answer, the lights flickered.
The piano keys began moving.
One by one.
No one was touching them.
Sophia froze.
The melody was different this time.
Her father had taught her this one when she was twelve.
A children's song.
Except there was one note wrong.
Every fourth measure.
A code.
She listened.
Then understood.
The notes spelled letters.
S.
E.
A.
R.
C.
H.
She whispered:
"Search."
Enzo stared.
"Search what?"
Sophia looked at the piano.
Then at the blackened edge of the frame.
"The house."
"What house?"
"My father's house."
Enzo stepped closer.
"The place that burned?"
She nodded.
"My father used the piano because nobody thought to search the music."
She suddenly remembered something.
A hidden room.
A staircase behind the library.
A door her father had forbidden her from opening.
Sophia looked at Enzo.
"There was another part of the house."
Enzo's expression sharpened.
"Where?"
She swallowed.
"Under the library."
A message arrived on Enzo's phone.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
Sophia's childhood home.
Not the burned ruins.
A photograph taken that morning.
The house was standing.
Someone had rebuilt it.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were six words.
Come alone, Sophia. Your mother is waiting.
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