Chapter 3 - THE RED LEDGER NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO FIND
“Mrs. Romano, who wrote this date?”
I showed Rose the back of the photograph.
She studied the red ink.
Her expression darkened.
“That wasn't there before.”
My stomach tightened.
“Are you sure?”
“Margaret, I've looked at that picture every week for six years.”
She took it from my hand.
“Harold wrote the message. But somebody else wrote the date.”
I looked at the bedroom door.
Someone had recently handled the photograph.
Someone who knew the old ledger mattered.
And Friday was less than two days away.
“Did Mr. Sloane touch your things yesterday?”
Rose nodded.
“He asked to see Harold's desk. I told him no.”
“Did he listen?”
“He smiled and said Daniel had already given him permission.”
I felt anger rising in my chest.
This elderly woman had spent fifty-six years building a life with her husband.
Now strangers were searching her bedroom while her own son prepared to remove her from it.
“Mrs. Romano, I'm going to speak with Marco.”
Rose caught my wrist.
“Don't leave me alone.”
I immediately sat beside her again.
“Then we'll go together.”
She seemed relieved.
I helped her into her slippers, wrapped a soft shawl around her shoulders, and placed Harold's wedding ring safely inside the pocket of her cardigan.
We found Marco in his father's old study.
He was standing beside Daniel.
The argument stopped when we entered.
“Mom?” Marco said. “I thought you were resting.”
Rose held out the photograph.
“Victor Sloane was in my bedroom yesterday.”
Daniel's face changed.
“Mother, we've discussed this.”
“No,” she replied. “You discussed it. I said I didn't want him there.”
Marco took the photograph.
His expression hardened when he saw the writing.
“Who put Friday's date on this?”
Daniel stared at it.
“I don't know.”
“Then why does Mom say Sloane was searching her things?”
“He was asking about old company records.”
“In her bedroom?”
“Dad kept files everywhere.”
Marco stepped closer.
“You told me those records were destroyed after he died.”
Daniel looked away.
That was the moment I realized something important.
The brothers weren't simply disagreeing about money.
They had been living with entirely different versions of their father's final years.
Marco turned to me.
“Margaret, did you know about a red ledger?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Romano mentioned it tonight.”
Daniel suddenly laughed.
“Of course she did. A secret ledger. A photograph with a threatening message. Doesn't anyone see what's happening?”
Rose stiffened.
“What are you saying?”
“Mother, you're remembering pieces of old conversations and turning them into something else.”
Marco put the photograph down.
“Enough.”
Daniel threw up his hands.
“Fine. Believe everything she says.”
Rose looked at her younger son.
“Your father was frightened of Victor Sloane.”
Daniel's expression shifted.
For a second, he looked like a little boy caught doing something wrong.
Then he said quietly, “Dad had reasons.”
Marco moved toward him.
“What reasons?”
Daniel opened his mouth.
But Elena appeared in the doorway.
“Marco, there's something you need to see.”
She was holding a folded sheet of paper.
“I found this beneath the seating chart in the drawing room.”
Marco took it.
“What is it?”
“A preliminary agenda for Friday's Romano Shipping board meeting.”
Daniel went pale.
“That's private.”
Elena ignored him.
“One item caught my attention.”
Marco read the page.
His jaw tightened.
“Sale of Pier 19 and adjoining waterfront properties.”
Daniel remained silent.
Marco looked up.
“You're selling the docks?”
“I'm trying to save the company.”
“By selling the property Dad refused to sell?”
Daniel's voice rose.
“You think sentiment pays creditors?”
“No. But secret transactions don't protect shareholders either.”
I watched Rose lower herself into a chair.
She looked suddenly exhausted.
Elena noticed and brought her a glass of water.
“Mrs. Romano, you don't need to prove anything tonight.”
Rose looked at her.
“Harold always said those docks belonged to the people who worked there.”
Elena sat beside her.
“Then that matters.”
For the first time all evening, Rose gave a small smile.
Daniel watched them with an expression I couldn't understand.
Then he said, “You have no idea what Sloane can do if we don't agree.”
Marco stared at him.
“What does he have on you?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Instead, he walked out.
Marco started after him.
Rose caught his sleeve.
“Sweetheart, don't.”
“Mom, I can't let him keep lying.”
“Then stop asking him questions he won't answer.”
Marco looked down at her.
“What should I do?”
She held up the photograph.
“Find the people who were there.”
The simplicity of her answer surprised everyone.
Marco looked at the three men standing beside Pier 19.
“Dad. Daniel. Sloane.”
Rose shook her head.
“There was a fourth man.”
I leaned closer.
“Who?”
“A dockworker. Harold liked him. Said he was the only person down there who told him the truth.”
“Do you remember his name?” Marco asked.
Rose closed her eyes.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she whispered, “Alvarez.”
Marco's expression changed.
“Luis Alvarez?”
Rose nodded.
“He brought oranges from his mother's garden once. Harold said they were terrible.”
She gave a sad little laugh.
“But he ate every one.”
Marco looked at Elena.
“I remember Alvarez. He ran the night crew.”
“Does he still work for the company?”
“No. He left after the accident.”
Marco reached for his jacket.
“I know someone who can find him.”
But Rose shook her head.
“Tomorrow. Tonight, you need to listen.”
She reached into her cardigan and removed Harold's ring.
“Your father told me that if Daniel ever tried to sell Pier 19, I should ask about the red ledger.”
Marco crouched before her.
“Where is it?”
Rose's eyes filled.
“I don't know anymore.”
Daniel would have used that answer against her.
But Marco simply waited.
“Harold moved it,” she continued. “He said keeping it in the house wasn't safe.”
“Did he tell you where?”
“I remember him saying something about the old dock office.”
Marco looked troubled.
“That building was closed years ago.”
Rose nodded.
“And Harold made me promise I wouldn't go there alone.”
I helped her stand.
Her ring finger was still swollen, and I reminded Marco that the nurse needed to examine it.
He agreed immediately.
Then he surprised me.
“Margaret, when's your daughter's next appointment?”
I blinked.
“Thursday morning, sir.”
“Take her. I'll arrange someone to stay with Mom.”
Rose touched my arm.
“What's your little girl's name again, sweetheart?”
“Ava.”
She smiled.
“Of course. Ava. The one who likes purple.”
I laughed softly.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Rose looked directly at Marco.
“See? I remember what matters.”
His face tightened.
He kissed her forehead.
“Yes, Mom. You do.”
The next morning, I took Ava to her rehabilitation appointment.
She was seven, with curly brown hair and a determination that had impressed every therapist she'd ever met.
The spinal injury she'd suffered in a car accident had changed how she walked.
But it hadn't changed her stubborn little spirit.
“Mommy, can we get pancakes afterward?” she asked.
“If you finish your exercises.”
She considered that.
“Two pancakes?”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I smiled without forcing it.
Then the receptionist called me aside.
“Ms. Ellis, there's a problem with your account.”
My smile disappeared.
“What problem?”
“Your payment assistance has been suspended pending verification.”
I stared at her.
“That can't be right.”
She turned the computer screen slightly.
“The Romano Family Care Fund has placed a temporary hold on new disbursements.”
My stomach dropped.
The program helping cover Ava's treatment was funded through the family's charitable foundation.
Daniel served as one of its financial trustees.
I thought of his warning about my job.
Suddenly, it sounded much more serious.
The receptionist handed me a printed notice.
At the bottom was an authorization.
D. ROMANO — FINANCIAL REVIEW.
I looked toward Ava, who was patiently waiting beside her purple walker.
“Mommy?”
I forced a smile.
“I'm here, sweetheart.”
But when I unfolded the second page, my hands began shaking.
The notice said the fund was reviewing a payment issued in my name.
A payment of $48,000.
Money I had never requested.
And beneath the transaction was a signature.
MARGARET ELLIS.
May you like
Someone had used my name to move forty-eight thousand dollars.
And the money had gone directly to a company connected to Victor Sloane.
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