Chapter 6 - The Ledger Speaks
The silence in the grand salon was so dense you could hear the frantic beating of thirty panicked hearts.
Carmine’s hand finally reached his shoulder holster, his fingers wrapping around the grip of a silver-plated compact pistol. But before he could clear leather, two of the regional captains—men who had watched Liam survive three assassination attempts in the nineties—instantly drew their own pieces and aimed them straight at Carmine’s chest.
“Sit down, Carmine,” snarled Marcus Vance, the oldest captain at the table, his eyes darting between the risen boss and the traitor. “Let’s hear what the dead man has to say first.”
Carmine froze, his hand hovering over his holster, sweat beading instantly along his hairline. He looked around the table, but every face that had nodded in agreement to his speech five minutes ago now looked away, studying their fingernails or the Persian rug.
“He’s... he’s hallucinating! Or it’s an impostor!” Renata shrieked, standing up and backing away from the table until her spine hit the mahogany bookcase. “You’re dead! You died of a heart attack!”
“Ask the medical examiner who signed my certificate,” Liam said, his gaze shifting slowly to his wife. A cold, sardonic smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Or better yet, ask Carmine how much he paid the mortician to skip the autopsy. Though I have to admit, your acting was touching, Renata. Especially the part where you kissed my best friend over my coffin and thanked him for the murder.”
Renata’s knees buckled. She grabbed the edge of the bookshelf to keep from collapsing, her chest heaving as realization crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Liam stepped closer to the head of the table, ignoring Carmine entirely for a moment as he turned to Luna.
“Open the ledger, Luna.”
Luna stepped forward, her hands steady as she dropped the heavy leather book directly onto the table in front of the corporate attorneys. She flipped it open to a page marked with a crimson paperclip.
“These are the financial records recovered from Tommy Ward’s private archive,” Luna announced, her voice clear and carrying effortlessly across the silent room. “For the past twenty-four months, Carmine Russo has been systematically embezzling from Falcone Enterprises through a dummy corporation named Belcrest Market Strategy. He used those funds to bribe three regional captains, purchase warehouse properties on the South Side, and negotiate a secret buyout with our primary rivals.”
She tapped the page with her finger.
“Tommy discovered the discrepancy four months ago. That’s why his car was run off the highway on a rainy Tuesday night. And that’s why Mr. Falcone was poisoned four days ago.”
The attorneys began frantically flipping through the pages, their eyes widening as they recognized the corporate seals, the wire transfer codes, and the undeniable paper trail linking every transaction directly to Carmine’s personal offshore accounts.
One of the senior lawyers swallowed hard, looked up at Liam, and nodded. “The... the numbers are authentic, Mr. Falcone. Every signature matches Mr. Russo’s authorization stamp.”
Liam finally turned his full attention back to Carmine.
He didn't yell. He didn't curse. He simply walked around the table, lifted his right hand, and extended his pinky finger, displaying the diamond signet ring that Carmine had casually slipped onto his own hand earlier that morning.
“You wanted my chair, Carmine?” Liam asked softly.
Carmine’s face twisted into an ugly, desperate snarl. Realizing he had nothing left to lose, he lunged forward, wrenching the pistol completely free from his holster and aiming it straight at Liam’s chest.
“I should have put two bullets in your head at the warehouse!” Carmine roared, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Before the hammer could drop, Marcus Vance’s shotgun roared from across the room.
The blast caught Carmine square in the right shoulder, spinning him violently around and sending the silver-plated pistol clattering across the marble floor. Carmine screamed, clutching his shattered shoulder as blood poured rapidly through his designer Brioni suit, staining the white fabric a brilliant, shocking crimson.
He collapsed hard onto his knees, gasping for breath, looking up at Liam with eyes filled with agonizing terror.
Liam stood over him, his shadow falling completely across the traitor’s face. He didn't raise a weapon. He simply reached down, grabbed Carmine by the lapels of his ruined jacket, and hauled him up until their faces were inches apart.
“We shared a pair of shoes in the snow, Carmine,” Liam whispered, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of thirty years of betrayed brotherhood. “And I gave you everything. But you forgot the most important rule of the streets.”
“What... what rule?” Carmine wheezed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
“Blood makes relatives,” Liam said, his eyes locking onto the dying traitor’s pupils. “Loyalty makes family. And you were never anything more than a thief in my coat.”
Liam released his grip. Carmine dropped back onto the floor like a broken doll, unconscious before he hit the carpet.
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The room remained dead silent, save for Renata’s ragged, hysterical sobs echoing from the corner.
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