Chapter 4 - The Ledger in the Table
"Nobody is bringing me anywhere," Meline said.
Lorenzo looked at her as if she had announced she planned to walk into traffic.
"Correct."
Caroline shook her head.
"Victor has your men."
"And he wants Meline," Lorenzo said. "That means he doesn't have what he needs yet."
Meline enlarged the photograph.
The steel compartment was open.
Inside appeared to be empty.
"He thought the ledger was there."
Caroline leaned closer.
"But Gabriel wouldn't make it that easy."
Meline stared at the old table.
She knew every inch of it.
Or thought she did.
Samuel had taught her to sew on that table.
When she was twelve, she'd spilled red dye across one corner.
When she was fifteen, she'd carved a tiny H underneath it.
When she opened Hayes Bespoke, she'd restored everything except one strange brass ruler embedded along the edge.
A ruler.
Numbers.
She suddenly remembered Gabriel's photograph.
M.H.H.
The letters engraved beneath Lorenzo's ring.
No.
That was coincidence.
"Lorenzo."
He looked at her.
"The engraving inside the ring."
"M.H.H."
"What does it mean?"
His expression softened despite everything.
"Meline Hayes Moretti."
Her heart stumbled.
"You were extremely confident."
"I was optimistic."
Caroline almost smiled.
Meline didn't.
Because the initials triggered another memory.
Samuel used to call the table MHH.
Meline's Helping Hands.
She had always thought it was a silly nickname.
"What if MHH isn't about me?"
Lorenzo frowned.
Meline explained.
Caroline went pale.
"Gabriel used initials as cipher keys."
Meline's pulse accelerated.
"The brass ruler."
They couldn't return openly.
So Lorenzo did something Meline hadn't expected.
He called the police.
Not corrupt officers.
A federal contact.
Agent Evelyn Grant.
Within twenty minutes, they had a plan.
Victor believed Lorenzo would trade Meline for Marco and Tomas.
Instead, Lorenzo would enter alone.
Meline objected.
Lorenzo ignored her.
She objected louder.
He still ignored her.
Finally she grabbed his vest.
"If you walk into my shop alone, I'll follow you."
"Meline."
"I mean it."
"I know. That's the problem."
"You don't get to decide everything because you're frightening."
"Apparently I'm not frightening enough."
"Not to me."
That stopped him.
For a moment, the criminal empire, hidden fathers, guns, and secrets disappeared.
There were only two people standing too close.
Lorenzo touched her cheek.
"You should be afraid of me."
"Maybe."
"But?"
"I haven't decided."
He almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
"If something happens—"
"No."
"Listen."
"No goodbye speeches."
"Meline."
"You haven't even taken me to dinner."
That finally made him laugh.
"Fine."
"Fine what?"
"I'll survive."
"Good."
"Then you're having dinner with me."
"That wasn't an agreement."
"Close enough."
Caroline cleared her throat.
"Your flirting is deeply inconvenient."
Meline stepped away.
The plan began.
At 11:20 p.m., Lorenzo entered Hayes Bespoke through the front.
Victor waited inside.
Meline watched through a surveillance feed from a federal van.
Marco and Tomas were alive.
Bruised.
Bound.
Victor was in his sixties, silver-haired, elegant.
He looked less like a gangster than someone's wealthy grandfather.
That made him worse.
"Where's the girl?" Victor asked.
"Safe."
"Then your men die."
"No."
Victor smiled.
"You sound like Antonio."
Lorenzo went still.
"So he's alive."
Victor's smile faded slightly.
Interesting.
Meline noticed.
So did Agent Grant.
"He doesn't know where Antonio is," Grant whispered.
Lorenzo continued.
"You killed Gabriel."
"Gabriel killed himself when he decided morality mattered."
"And my father?"
"Your father was sentimental."
"Where is he?"
Victor stepped closer.
"You still don't understand. This was never about fathers."
He touched the cutting table.
"It was about what they left behind."
Meline stared at the brass ruler.
Numbers were etched into it.
Normal measurements.
Except several were slightly deeper.
Meline wrote them down.
Agent Grant watched.
"What is it?"
"A code."
She rearranged them.
Her birthday.
March 14.
Then 7 and 22.
July 22.
Her mother's birthday.
Two dates.
Two drawers.
Meline suddenly understood.
The table wasn't the hiding place.
It was instructions.
She grabbed Caroline's photograph.
17 Mercer Street.
There had been a sewing machine in the underground room.
"Mom."
Caroline looked at her.
"Your machine."
They raced back to Mercer Street.
Meline found the machine.
March 14.
July 22.
She counted stitches etched into the metal plate.
Three.
Fourteen.
Seven.
Twenty-two.
She pressed them sequentially.
A hidden compartment clicked.
Inside was a flash drive.
Not a ledger.
Caroline covered her mouth.
"Gabriel."
Meline inserted it into a laptop.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Financial records.
Names.
Payments.
Photographs.
Enough evidence to dismantle Victor's organization.
Then one video.
FOR MELINE.
She clicked.
A man appeared.
Gabriel DeLuca.
Her biological father.
"If you're watching this, sweetheart, then I didn't get to watch you grow up."
Meline's eyes filled.
"I need you to know one thing. Caroline and Samuel saved you. Antonio Moretti tried to save me. If his son ever stands beside you, don't judge him by my mistakes or his father's. Judge him by what he chooses when protecting you costs him something."
Meline couldn't breathe.
Then gunfire erupted through Agent Grant's radio.
Hayes Bespoke.
The surveillance feed shook.
Victor had discovered the trap.
Meline watched Lorenzo fight toward Marco and Tomas.
Then the screen went black.
"Signal lost," Grant said.
Meline's phone rang.
Lorenzo.
She answered.
"Lorenzo?"
Nobody spoke.
Then Victor's voice came through.
"Bring me Gabriel's files."
Meline gripped the phone.
"Where's Lorenzo?"
Victor chuckled.
"You have thirty minutes."
"Let me hear him."
Silence.
Then Lorenzo's voice, strained but alive:
"Don't come."
A blow sounded.
Meline flinched.
Victor returned.
"Thirty minutes, Miss DeLuca."
The call ended.
Then Caroline stared at the laptop.
One new file had appeared automatically.
It hadn't been there before.
A live location.
Someone was moving toward Hayes Bespoke.
Caroline zoomed in.
The identity attached to the tracker appeared.
May you like
ANTONIO MORETTI.
Lorenzo's dead father was coming home.
