Chapter 5 - The Ledger Unlocked
The sun was fully up by the time they returned to the second-floor study.
Oliver was still asleep in the adjoining nursery, supervised by Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper. In the center of Preston’s massive mahogany desk sat a battered, leather-bound accounting ledger with water-stained edges, alongside two encrypted flash drives and a stack of photocopied bank statements.
Emma stood on one side of the desk, flipping open the ledger to a page covered in dense columns of red and black ink. Preston sat opposite her, his elbows resting on the wood, his eyes scanning the numbers with the practiced ease of a man who had audited corporate balance sheets before he was thirty.
"Here," Emma pointed a slender finger at a row of entries near the bottom of page forty-two. "Look at the destination accounts for the municipal street-repair funds allocated to the Fourth District. They’re being funneled through three shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands under fictitious names."
Preston leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. He traced a line of numbers with his index finger.
"Not fictitious," Preston corrected, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling growl. "Look at the notary stamp on the third shell company registration."
Emma squinted at the small, embossed seal at the bottom of the page. "I couldn't read it clearly. The ink was smeared."
"It's Marcus Vance," Preston said, the name dropping like a lead weight into the room.
Emma gasped, her head snapping up to look at him. "Your head security guard? The man who tried to stop me at the ballroom door?"
"Marcus hasn't just been running security for my estates," Preston said, his eyes turning the color of arctic ice. "He’s been acting as a liaison between my logistics network and the eastern syndicate. For the past three years, someone inside my own organization has been leaking shipping schedules to Meridian Holdings—and skimming millions off municipal contracts."
The realization hit Emma like a physical blow. "That's why they killed my father. He wasn't just auditing random city accounts—he stumbled onto the pipeline connecting the city's slush funds directly to your security detail."
Preston stood up so fast his leather chair rolled backward and slammed against the mahogany bookshelves.
The air in the room grew instantly heavy, charged with a lethal, terrifying pressure. When Preston was angry, he didn't shout. He went completely still.
"Viktor!" he bellowed toward the intercom on the desk.
The speaker crackled instantly. "Boss?"
"Get down to the garage right now," Preston commanded, his voice shaking with restrained fury. "Take four men. Find Marcus. Do not let him leave the property, do not let him touch a phone, and do not let him breathe a single word. Bring him up to the basement holding room in chains."
"On it," Viktor’s voice replied crisply.
Preston clicked off the intercom and turned back to Emma. For a moment, the cold, untouchable mafia boss vanished, replaced by a man who had just realized his entire fortress had been compromised from the inside.
He walked around the desk, stopping right in front of her.
"You walked into the lion's den carrying the exact piece of evidence I needed to find the traitor inside my own house," Preston said, his voice dropping into an intense, hypnotic register. "Who are you, Emma Carter? Really?"
Emma didn't back down. She looked straight up into his pale blue eyes.
"I told you," she whispered. "I'm a daughter who watched her father get murdered by men in suits. And I'm a woman who would burn this entire city to the ground to see justice done."
Preston stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then, slowly, a strange, grim respect crept into his expression.
May you like
He reached out, his warm fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a gesture far softer than anything they had shared in the chapel an hour ago.
"Good," Preston murmured. "Because that makes two of us."
