Chapter 2 - The Ledger of Sins
The ballroom was cleared within ten minutes.
Under Roman’s silent, terrifying nod, his senior enforcer, Dante, escorted the remaining guests out through the side exits, ensuring no phones were pulled out, no gossip left the building, and no witnesses spoke of what had transpired.
In the private study behind the dais, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a switchblade.
Helena sat stiffly in a wingback leather chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her eyes were dry now, replaced by a cold, stubborn defiance. She refused to look at Nora, who sat across the room holding a cup of steaming tea that Dante had quietly provided. Sophie had finally fallen asleep against Roman’s shoulder, exhausted by the trauma of the night, her tiny chest rising and falling in steady rhythms.
Roman stood by the mahogany desk, flipping open a heavy leather-bound ledger. It was the household financial record—one of dozens kept in the safe behind the bookshelf.
"Let's talk about the math, Mother," Roman said, his voice dangerously quiet. He traced a column of figures with his thumb. "Fifty thousand a month for thirty-six months. That is one million, eight hundred thousand dollars. Plus the initial relocation fund of five hundred thousand. Total: two point three million dollars."
He looked up, his eyes fixed on Helena. "A domestic household doesn't spend that kind of money on groceries and dry cleaning. Where did the capital go?"
Helena raised her chin. "You think I bought jewels, Roman? You think I hid it in a Swiss bank account for myself?"
"I don't know what you did," Roman replied. "That's why I'm asking before I decide whether to hand you over to the federal authorities or deal with you the old-fashioned way."
"Try it," Helena spat with bitter pride. "Try explaining to the Commission why you executed your own mother. See how the other families react to a boss who can't even control his own blood."
Nora set her teacup down with a sharp clink. The sound made Helena flinch.
"She didn't spend it on herself, Roman," Nora said quietly, her voice cutting through the tension.
Roman blinked, looking over at her. "What do you mean?"
Nora stood up, walking slowly toward the desk. She looked exhausted, her posture slumped under the weight of three years of hiding, poverty, and heartbreak, but her eyes were sharp.
"Think about it, Roman," Nora said bitterly. "Why did I leave in the first place? Why did you send me away to that safehouse three years ago?"
Roman’s jaw tightened. "Because the Moretti family put a bounty on my inner circle. I sent you away to keep you safe while I hunted them down."
"Exactly," Nora nodded. "And while you were hunting the Morettis, who was funding their counter-offensive? Who was buying out your captains one by one? Who almost succeeded in staging a coup against you six months after Sophie was born?"
Roman stared at her, the gears in his mind grinding to a violent halt. A cold realization began to dawn in the pit of his stomach. "Vance."
"Vance," Nora confirmed. "The head of the syndicate's tribunal. The man who sat at your right hand and smiled while plotting your execution."
Roman slowly turned his gaze back to his mother.
Helena closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging as the last remnants of her defiance crumbled into dust.
"He had leverage, Roman," Helena whispered, her voice finally breaking. "Vance discovered the old tax evasion records from your grandfather's estate—records that could have sent you and your brothers to federal prison for the rest of your natural lives. He threatened to hand them to the Department of Justice unless I paid him off. Monthly. Heavy installments."
Roman slammed his hand down on the mahogany desk. The wood cracked under the impact.
"You funded my greatest enemy with my daughter's inheritance?" Roman roared, the volume shaking the glasses on the sideboard. "You sold out your own blood to pay off a snake?!"
"I bought your freedom!" Helena screamed back, standing up and leaning over the desk, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "Every wire transfer went straight to Vance’s offshore accounts! I didn't keep a dime! I bled the accounts dry to keep the feds off your back and your brothers out of federal penitentiaries! You think ruling an empire is clean, Roman? You think you sit on this throne because of your charm? It's built on sacrifices—and I sacrificed everything so you could keep playing king!"
The room plunged back into a suffocating silence.
Roman stared at his mother, the rage in his chest giving way to a hollow, chilling numbness. He had spent three years believing Nora had abandoned him for money. Nora had spent three years believing Roman had cast them out. And all the while, the woman who had raised him had orchestrated a grand, agonizing deception under the noble banner of protection.
"You didn't protect this family," Roman said softly, his voice devoid of all emotion. "You dismantled it."
He gently laid sleeping Sophie into Nora’s arms. Nora looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshelled questions.
Roman walked to the heavy oak door of the study, pulled it open, and called out into the hallway.
"Dante."
May you like
"Boss?" the enforcer stepped into the light instantly.
"Prepare the private airstrip. And lock down the east wing." Roman didn't look back at his mother as he spoke his final verdict. "Helena D’Angelo is no longer a resident of this estate. Pack her bags. She leaves tonight."
