Chapter 7 - THE SIGNATURE
Valerio stared at the signature until anger became something more dangerous.
Recognition.
“I signed blank approval sheets.”
Danica frowned.
“When?”
“Never.”
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because one person occasionally put documents under my hand without making me read every page.”
“Ignatio?”
Valerio nodded.
“He handled emergency authorizations when I was traveling.”
Danica examined the paper.
The signature was genuine because Valerio had genuinely signed something.
Ignatio had simply moved it.
The top sheet had been removed.
The signed bottom sheet became an execution order.
“He didn’t forge you,” Danica said.
“He used me.”
“Yes.”
That distinction hit Valerio hard.
For years he had believed control protected him.
Instead, his habit of trusting one man had nearly killed Danica.
“I put the weapon in his hand.”
“No.”
Danica’s voice sharpened.
“You signed a piece of paper. Ignatio decided what to do with it.”
Valerio looked at her.
“You keep separating me from other people’s choices.”
“Someone should.”
Before he could answer, footsteps sounded outside.
Veto entered, pale beneath his expensive coat.
Valerio’s face darkened.
“You were told to stay at the clinic.”
“I was also told not to drink before my twenty-first birthday.”
“You failed at that too.”
“Spectacularly.”
Danica noticed the way Veto’s hand pressed his bandaged side.
“You should sit.”
“I should do many things.”
He dropped into Antonio’s old chair.
“I know where Patrick will be.”
Valerio’s attention sharpened.
“Where?”
“The original Castellion gaming room on Archer Avenue.”
“That place has been closed fifteen years.”
“Exactly.”
Veto looked at Danica.
“Patrick planned to meet me there at midnight after your brother was dead.”
“To give you control?”
“To pretend to.”
Valerio leaned forward.
“And Ignatio?”
“He will be there.”
Danica closed the ledger.
“Then we go.”
Both brothers said no.
She looked from one to the other.
“That was adorable.”
“Danica,” Valerio began.
“No.”
Her voice remained calm.
“Those ledgers are useful because I understand them. Patrick has spent years hiding behind accounting structures because he assumes men with guns are the only people who matter.”
Veto muttered, “She does this often?”
Valerio looked tired.
“Yes.”
Danica continued.
“You can walk into that room with weapons and accusations.”
She placed her palm on the ledger.
“Or you can walk in with proof that everyone Patrick has purchased is about to learn he has been stealing from them too.”
Veto’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Danica showed him another pattern she had discovered.
Patrick’s companies had been skimming from the same lieutenants he bribed.
“He betrayed his own people,” she said.
Valerio almost smiled.
“You enjoy this.”
“I enjoy accurate books.”
At 11:42 p.m., they entered the closed Archer Avenue gaming room.
Dust covered old green felt tables.
A chandelier glowed above a room that had once hosted politicians, judges, and criminals pretending not to know one another.
Patrick Felicity stood near the bar.
He was older than Valerio expected.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
No theatrical cruelty.
Only exhaustion around the eyes.
Ignatio stood beside him.
Six armed men waited along the walls.
Patrick looked at Valerio.
“Your father would be disappointed.”
“My father is having a difficult evening.”
Patrick smiled faintly.
Then his gaze moved toward Danica.
“The accountant.”
“The problem,” she said.
“Apparently.”
Patrick poured himself a drink.
“You found Halstead.”
“Yes.”
“And now Valerio knows what built his clean little empire.”
Valerio’s voice was cold.
“Nothing about my empire is clean.”
Patrick’s smile disappeared.
“At least you learned one thing your father never could.”
“Which is?”
“How to tell the truth when it costs you something.”
The words surprised everyone.
Patrick was not defending Antonio.
He hated him.
But he did not pretend the hatred made every choice afterward noble.
“My brother Sean was twenty-six,” Patrick said. “He had a baby daughter. Antonio chained those doors.”
“And you spent seventeen years charging his sons for it,” Danica said.
Patrick looked at her.
“Yes.”
No denial.
No apology.
“At first, I wanted restitution.”
“And later?”
“Power.”
Danica nodded.
“That is what the books say.”
Ignatio looked away.
Patrick continued.
“Justice is a lovely word when someone else still has what they stole from you.”
Valerio said, “So you decided to steal everything back.”
“Yes.”
“Even from people who had nothing to do with Halstead.”
Patrick’s face tightened.
“That is where men like me become men like your father.”
Ignatio looked at him sharply.
Patrick’s admission had not been expected.
Danica saw it.
The alliance between them was not as strong as it looked.
She opened the ledger.
“You also stole from Ignatio.”
Ignatio’s head turned.
Patrick laughed.
“Careful.”
Danica read the transfers.
“Three hundred thousand routed through a security company you told him belonged to Castellion loyalists.”
Ignatio looked at Patrick.
“What is she talking about?”
“Numbers.”
“Answer her.”
Patrick’s expression changed.
The room became unstable.
Danica continued.
“You used his revenge to finance your takeover.”
Ignatio’s face went blank.
Patrick sighed.
“You think grief makes a man smart?”
Ignatio stared at him.
“My mother died in that building.”
“So did my brother.”
“And you used her name.”
“I used everything.”
The honesty was monstrous because it was calm.
Then Patrick looked toward Veto.
“Just like your brother used jealousy.”
Valerio slowly turned.
Patrick smiled.
“Did Veto tell you he came to me first?”
Veto’s face drained.
Valerio looked at him.
“What?”
Patrick’s voice was almost gentle.
“He did not need recruiting.”
Veto said, “Valerio—”
“You came to him?”
Veto closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Something broke between the brothers.
Not loudly.
Worse.
Quietly.
Patrick reached for his glass.
“That is the truth about betrayal. Most of the time, the door is opened from inside.”
Ignatio stared at Veto.
Danica stared at Valerio.
Then Patrick spoke again.
“Enough.”
One of his men moved toward Danica.
Valerio stepped in front of her.
Patrick looked at Ignatio.
“You wanted Antonio’s family to understand loss.”
Ignatio’s face was pale.
Patrick pointed toward Danica.
“Now make him understand.”
Ignatio lifted his pistol.
Valerio moved.
Veto shouted.
Danica saw Ignatio’s hand shaking.
For the first time all night, the man who had murdered Oswaldo looked uncertain.
Patrick’s voice hardened.
“Shoot her.”
May you like
Ignatio aimed directly at Danica’s chest.
And pulled the trigger.
