Chapter 6 - WALTER BENNETT’S LAST LIE
Roman returned to the mansion before sunrise.
Rachel went with him.
So did Gabriel.
Nobody tried to stop her anymore.
The old version of Rachel Monroe—the maid who lowered her eyes when wealthy people entered rooms—felt like someone she had known years ago.
Walter’s guest suite was empty.
His hospital blanket remained folded across the chair.
The IV stand was gone.
On the bedside table sat a glass of water.
And one handwritten note.
Roman read it first.
His jaw tightened.
Rachel took it.
I am sorry. Find Antonio’s grave before Vincent does.
Gabriel cursed.
Roman looked at him.
“What is in my father’s grave?”
“I don’t know.”
“You worked with him.”
“I didn’t plan his burial.”
Roman turned toward Marco.
“Cemetery.”
They reached the private DeLuca mausoleum shortly after 5:00 a.m.
Roman had buried his father there eighteen years earlier.
Now the bronze doors stood open.
Someone had beaten them there.
Roman entered first.
Antonio’s stone crypt had been opened.
The coffin was partially pulled out.
Rachel stayed close.
Roman stared at his father’s disturbed grave.
For the first time since Rachel had met him, he looked genuinely shaken.
Not angry.
Wounded.
“They won’t even let him stay dead.”
Rachel touched his arm.
It was instinctive.
Roman looked down at her hand.
She nearly removed it.
He covered it with his own instead.
Only for a second.
Then he let go.
Marco inspected the coffin.
“Something was removed.”
Gabriel crouched.
“There.”
A narrow compartment had been carved beneath the lining.
Empty.
Roman turned.
“What was there?”
Gabriel shook his head.
A voice came from behind them.
“The ledger.”
They spun.
Walter stood in the mausoleum entrance.
He looked exhausted.
But alive.
Roman crossed the room with frightening speed.
He grabbed Walter by the coat.
Rachel had never seen him lose control.
Not completely.
But this came close.
“You have ten seconds.”
Walter did not resist.
“I took the brass disc.”
“Nine.”
“I needed Vincent to believe I betrayed you.”
“Eight.”
“Roman,” Rachel said.
He ignored her.
Walter pulled something from his pocket.
The brass disc.
He placed it in Roman’s palm.
“I came here because Vincent has watched me for years.”
Roman released him slowly.
Walter coughed.
Gabriel looked at the payment records Rachel carried.
“Explain these.”
Walter smiled bitterly.
“I wondered when you’d find them.”
He sat on the stone bench.
“Vincent paid me.”
Rachel’s heart sank.
Walter continued.
“And every dollar went into an account Antonio created for evidence gathering.”
Roman stared.
“You took money from the man who murdered my father?”
“I made him believe I was for sale.”
“For eighteen years?”
“Your father died because we underestimated Vincent once.”
Walter looked directly at Roman.
“I wasn’t going to do it twice.”
Roman’s anger remained.
“You should have told me.”
“When?”
“When I was thirty?”
“You were trying to murder a judge who insulted your mother.”
Roman paused.
Rachel slowly looked at him.
Roman cleared his throat.
“He deserved a conversation.”
“A conversation involving six armed men,” Walter said.
“That was organizational support.”
Rachel laughed before she could stop herself.
Even Gabriel smiled.
The tension loosened slightly.
Then Walter’s expression grew serious.
“Antonio hid his original ledger in the coffin.”
“Who took it?” Roman asked.
“Vincent.”
“You saw him?”
“No.”
Walter pointed toward dust near the crypt.
One shoe print.
A distinctive cross pattern.
“Cassandra.”
Rachel remembered Cassandra’s designer boots.
Roman stared toward the open door.
“They have the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“What does it contain?”
“Everything.”
Names.
Payments.
Judges.
Police officers.
Politicians.
Business partners.
Every person Vincent had corrupted.
With that book, Roman could destroy Vincent.
With that book, Vincent could destroy everyone else.
“So why take it?” Rachel asked.
Walter looked at her.
“Insurance.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Vincent is abandoning Chicago.”
Roman disagreed.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“He isn’t running.”
Roman walked toward the doorway.
“He spent eighteen years building something. Men like Vincent don’t run when they’re this close.”
Rachel followed his reasoning.
“He wants Roman removed.”
Walter nodded.
“And Rachel installed as trustee.”
Rachel frowned.
“Why would he want me controlling anything?”
“Because he thinks you’d be easier to control.”
Roman looked at her.
“He’s wrong.”
“Obviously.”
Something almost warm passed between them.
Walter then revealed the final provision of Antonio’s trust.
If Roman became legally incapacitated, imprisoned, or formally charged with a felony against a DeLuca beneficiary, temporary control would transfer.
Vincent could not inherit directly because Antonio had removed him from succession.
Gabriel was presumed dead.
That left Rachel.
Vincent did not need Rachel dead.
He needed her frightened.
Controllable.
Preferably believing Roman was dangerous.
“And Cassandra?” Rachel asked.
Walter’s expression darkened.
“She would become executor through marriage if Roman married her.”
Everything connected.
Walter’s imprisonment.
The false evidence.
The wedding documents.
Rachel’s hiring.
The vault.
It was not one plan.
It was several plans layered over eighteen years.
Roman returned to the mansion and ordered a full forensic examination.
At 9:15 a.m., a detective arrived.
Lieutenant Daniel Price.
Roman clearly knew him.
“Daniel.”
“Roman.”
Price had worked organized crime investigations for twenty years.
He did not appear pleased to be inside the mansion.
“We received evidence this morning.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“What evidence?”
Price produced a warrant.
“For your arrest.”
Rachel froze.
Roman barely reacted.
“Charge?”
Price looked uncomfortable.
“Kidnapping. Unlawful imprisonment. Conspiracy.”
Walter stood.
“Of whom?”
“Walter Bennett.”
Silence.
Rachel stared at Walter.
Price looked directly at him.
“You’re supposed to be missing.”
Walter smiled faintly.
“I’ve had a difficult week.”
Roman asked, “Who provided the evidence?”
“Anonymous source.”
“Cassandra.”
Price did not answer.
Police vehicles filled the driveway.
News vans appeared outside the gates.
It was happening exactly as Vincent planned.
Roman’s men moved uneasily.
Roman raised one hand.
Nobody touched a weapon.
Rachel approached him.
“You’re going with them?”
“Yes.”
“They’re framing you.”
“Which means fighting an arrest on camera is exactly what Vincent wants.”
Price stepped forward with handcuffs.
Rachel hated the sight of them.
Roman turned to Marco.
“Protect Rachel.”
Then to Gabriel.
“Do not disappear again.”
Gabriel nodded.
Roman looked last at Rachel.
She tried not to show fear.
“You’ll get out.”
“I know.”
“You sound very confident.”
“I have something Vincent doesn’t.”
“What?”
Roman’s gaze stayed on hers.
“You.”
Before Rachel could respond, Price cuffed him.
Cameras exploded with flashes as Roman was escorted outside.
By noon, every Chicago news station carried the same headline:
MAFIA FIGURE ROMAN DELUCA ARRESTED IN ALLEGED KIDNAPPING.
At 12:17, Rachel received an email.
From an unknown address.
One attachment.
A legal document.
It named Rachel Monroe temporary controlling trustee of DeLuca Holdings if Roman remained detained longer than forty-eight hours.
Below it was a message.
Congratulations, Rachel.
You own the empire now.
Then a second message arrived.
A photograph.
Cassandra stood beside Vincent in a private airport hangar.
Behind them was Rachel’s mother.
Again.
Rachel’s blood ran cold.
She called Elaine’s room.
Empty.
Gabriel burst through the door.
“She’s gone.”
Rachel stared at the photograph.
May you like
A final line appeared beneath it.
SIGN CONTROL TO VINCENT, OR YOUR MOTHER BOARDS A PLANE SHE WILL NEVER GET OFF.
