Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER WHO SOLD HIM OUT
Dante did not reach for his weapon.
That frightened Beatrice more than if he had.
Luca Moretti stood thirty feet away.
Perfect suit.
No ropes.
No blood except what had been smeared across his own face for the video.
The gun remained pointed toward them.
Dante stared.
“You could have simply asked for money.”
Luca laughed.
“You think this was about money?”
“Usually is.”
“No.”
His expression changed.
“This was about spending twenty-five years being introduced as Dante Moretti’s cousin.”
Marco kept one hand near his sidearm.
Luca noticed.
“Don’t.”
Marco froze.
Beatrice remained behind a concrete support.
Luca looked toward her.
“You.”
His lip curled.
“Do you understand how inconvenient you’ve been?”
Beatrice almost smiled.
“I’ve had similar performance reviews.”
Dante glanced toward her.
Even now, he seemed surprised.
Luca did not appreciate the humor.
“You should have deleted the file.”
“You should have stolen money less obviously.”
“Sixty-three million dollars disappeared for five years.”
“And I found it in six weeks.”
That made Dante smile.
Luca’s face hardened.
“You see? This is why people hate accountants.”
Beatrice stepped slightly into view.
Dante immediately moved.
“Stay back.”
“No.”
Luca laughed.
“Your queen really doesn’t listen.”
Dante’s voice became quiet.
“That’s one of the things I like about her.”
Beatrice’s heart did something unhelpful.
This was not the time.
Luca shook his head.
“You’re pathetic.”
Dante looked at him.
“Because I respect her?”
“Because you walked into a gala and publicly claimed some nobody as your queen.”
Beatrice felt the word.
Nobody.
Normally it would have cut.
Tonight it barely touched her.
Dante’s gaze became glacial.
“She found what you spent years hiding.”
“She got lucky.”
“No.”
He looked toward Beatrice.
“She paid attention.”
Luca raised the gun.
“Enough.”
Dante stopped.
“Where’s Charles?”
“Gone.”
“Victoria?”
“Federal protection by now, I assume.”
“And Malcolm Hart?”
Luca smiled.
“Scared.”
“David Klein?”
“Running.”
Beatrice listened.
Something bothered her.
Luca was talking as though the conspiracy had collapsed.
But he was still standing here.
“Why bring us here?” she asked.
Luca looked at her.
“Excuse me?”
“If you wanted the archive, you could have had Charles steal it.”
“I need Elliot’s original ledger.”
“You think we brought it?”
Luca’s expression flickered.
There.
He did not know.
Beatrice understood.
“You never saw Elliot’s full evidence.”
Silence.
Dante looked at her.
She continued.
“Charles didn’t either.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“Stop talking.”
“That’s why Elliot survived long enough to hide it. Everyone knew pieces.”
“Beatrice.”
Dante’s warning was soft.
She ignored it.
“Charles handled client books. Victoria handled access. David handled system overrides. Malcolm protected the partnership.”
She looked directly at Luca.
“And you handled Moretti vendor approvals.”
Luca’s hand tightened around the gun.
“But nobody trusted anybody enough to keep the complete record.”
Dante understood.
“You’re trying to find out what we know.”
Luca smiled without humor.
“I know exactly what you know.”
“No,” Beatrice said.
“You don’t.”
Luca pointed the gun toward her.
Dante moved between them instantly.
“Don’t.”
The word came from somewhere dark.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“Move.”
“No.”
“She’s the reason this is happening.”
“No.”
Dante’s voice remained quiet.
“You are.”
For the first time, Luca’s confidence cracked.
He looked at the man he had betrayed.
“You always got everything.”
Dante laughed once.
“You stole from me because you were jealous?”
“You inherited a name everyone respected.”
“So did you.”
“Not the same one.”
“You lived in my house.”
“As charity.”
“My father called you son.”
“Because he pitied me!”
“And I called you brother.”
Luca’s expression changed.
Pain.
Real this time.
“You never needed me.”
Dante stared.
“That is the lie you told yourself?”
Luca looked away.
Beatrice recognized something.
Numbers lied only when people made them.
People lied most convincingly when they wanted to believe themselves.
Dante stepped closer.
“I trusted you with my companies.”
“Because you were too busy pretending to be king.”
“I trusted you with my family.”
“Stop.”
“You held my mother’s hand at my father’s funeral.”
“Stop.”
“You stood beside me.”
Luca’s gun shook.
Dante continued.
“And you killed Elliot Crane because he found your theft.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
Beatrice’s heartbeat changed.
Dante noticed.
“What?”
Luca laughed bitterly.
“Charles arranged the brake failure.”
“That’s not what the service record says,” Beatrice said.
Luca looked at her.
“I approved the work order. I didn’t know what Charles planned.”
“Did you know afterward?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“You knew.”
Luca’s voice broke.
“I couldn’t undo it.”
“So you kept stealing.”
“I was already in.”
Beatrice shook her head.
“That’s not trapped. That’s convenient.”
Luca pointed the gun at her again.
This time Dante moved.
Fast.
Gunfire exploded.
Beatrice dropped.
Marco fired.
Luca went down.
For one horrifying second, Beatrice could not tell who had been hit.
Then Dante staggered.
His hand went to his side.
Blood.
“Dante.”
She crawled toward him.
Marco kicked Luca’s weapon away.
Luca groaned.
Alive.
Shot through the shoulder.
Dante sat against a concrete column.
Blood spread through his white shirt.
Beatrice pressed both hands against the wound.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“That is not funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
“Shut up.”
Dante looked almost amused.
“You’re very commanding for an accountant.”
“Pressure here.”
He did.
Sirens approached.
Marco was already shouting into a radio.
Beatrice’s hands shook.
Dante noticed.
“Look at me.”
“I am looking at you.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“Actually look.”
She did.
He was pale.
But alert.
Breathing normally.
The bullet had passed through the side below his ribs.
Bad.
Probably not fatal.
Probably.
“Don’t you dare die.”
His mouth moved.
“Would ruin the gala story.”
“Dante.”
“I’m not dying.”
“Promise?”
The word escaped before Beatrice could stop it.
Something changed in his eyes.
“I promise to make every effort.”
“That is the worst promise I have ever heard.”
“It’s the only honest kind.”
Paramedics arrived.
As they lifted Dante onto the stretcher, Luca laughed weakly from the floor.
“You think this ends anything?”
Dante looked toward him.
Luca’s face twisted.
“Charles still has Maggie.”
Beatrice froze.
“No.”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Charles Wilkes.
“Good morning, Beatrice.”
Her blood became ice.
“You touch her—”
“Your sister is perfectly alive.”
Dante reached for the phone from the stretcher.
Beatrice shook her head.
This one was hers.
Charles continued.
“Bring me Elliot’s ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
A pause.
Then Maggie screamed in the background.
Beatrice stopped breathing.
Charles spoke again.
“Six o’clock tonight.”
“Where?”
“The old Wilkes summer house in Montauk.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“If I come, she walks away.”
“If you bring the ledger.”
“I told you—”
“Then find it.”
The line ended.
Beatrice stood in the middle of the warehouse, covered in Dante’s blood.
Elliot had hidden evidence for her.
Charles believed she had the final ledger.
Maggie had less than twelve hours.
And for the first time, Beatrice understood something that made her anger colder than fear.
May you like
She was no longer trying to prove she belonged in rooms like Wilkes & Hart’s ballroom.
She was trying to bring the entire room down.
