Chapter 7 - The Bloodline Ledger
The midnight drive back to the Hayes estate was silent, wrapped in the plush, insulated luxury of a bulletproof town car.
Victor sat beside me in the back seat, staring out the tinted window at the neon-lit skyline of downtown Boston as the city blurred past. His hand rested on the leather seat between us, his fingers lightly brushing against mine.
When the car finally passed through the towering wrought-iron gates of the estate and rolled up to the grand entrance, Paul was waiting on the steps.
Victor stepped out first, offering his hand to help me down from the high step of the vehicle.
“Report, Paul,” Victor commanded as we walked up the stone steps toward the heavy double doors.
“ Liam is secure in the lower study, Boss,” Paul reported, falling into step behind us as we entered the foyer. “He’s sobered up considerably after twelve hours with no phone and a bucket of ice water. He wants to know if he’s going to be executed or sent to business school.”
Victor let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Send him up to the private library on the third floor in ten minutes. I have a ledger for him to sign.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Ten minutes later, standing in the towering, wood-paneled library lined with leather-bound first editions and smelling of old paper and burning birch logs in the fireplace, I watched the heavy oak doors open.
Liam walked in, looking pale, disheveled, and terrified. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath his brown eyes—eyes that looked hauntingly like mine.
When he saw me standing beside Victor Hayes in an evening gown worth more than our childhood home, Liam stopped dead in his tracks.
“Clara?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “What... what is happening? Are you okay? Did he—?”
“Shut your mouth, Liam, and sit down,” Victor ordered, gesturing toward a heavy leather armchair in front of the desk.
Liam flinched, scrambling across the room and collapsing into the chair as if his legs had suddenly turned to water.
Victor walked behind the massive mahogany desk, sat down in his high-backed leather chair, and opened a thick black leather ledger emblazoned with a gold syndicate crest. He pulled a heavy gold fountain pen from his breast pocket and tossed it onto the blotter.
“Your sister has spent three months wiping blood, vomit, and silver polish off my floors to pay down the fifty-four thousand dollars you lost to a crooked poker ring run by the Moretti family,” Victor began, his voice cold and rhythmic as a ticking clock.
Liam buried his face in his hands, trembling. “I’m sorry. I swear I’ll pay it back—I’ll get a job, I’ll leave the city—”
“You aren't paying anything back,” Victor interrupted sharply. “Because as of midnight tonight, your debt has been transferred into my personal family ledger. You are no longer a debtor to the syndicate.”
Liam looked up, hope flickering wildly in his bloodshot eyes. “Really? You’re forgiving it?”
“I am not forgiving it,” Victor corrected, leaning forward so the firelight caught the hard, merciless angles of his face. “I am erasing your autonomy. You are going to sign a five-year employment contract with EchoBridge Logistics—one of my legitimate shipping fronts in South Boston. You will start at the bottom as a warehouse clerk, you will work fifty hours a week, and every paycheck will be direct-deposited into an account managed by your sister.”
Liam stared at the contract, his hands shaking as he picked up the gold pen. “And if I miss a shift? If I go back to the tables?”
“If you miss a shift, Paul will break your right hand,” Victor said with absolute, terrifying casualness. “If you touch a deck of cards again, I will personally drive you out to the harbor and drop you in with your boots filled with cement. Do we understand each other, Liam?”
Liam swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at me, pleading for help.
I didn't look away. I didn't offer him pity. I had spent six years cleaning up his messes while he gambled away our mother’s savings and our future.
“Sign the paper, Liam,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “It’s the best offer you’re ever going to get.”
With a trembling hand, Liam pressed the golden nib against the paper and signed his name at the bottom line.
May you like
Victor closed the ledger with a sharp, echoing snap. “Get out. Paul is waiting downstairs to drive you back to your apartment.”
Liam practically fell out of the chair, scurrying out of the library and slamming the heavy oak doors behind him.
