Chapter 6 - The Ledger's Trail
The headlights swept across the tall pines, fading into the dark as Luca drove down the winding gravel lane toward the main house. Inside the cottage, the air smelled of damp earth, woodsmoke, and the bitter dregs of Sal's tea. I stared down at the cream-colored ledger paper resting on the scarred wooden table. The ink was dark, crisp, and undeniably Vanessa's cursive scrawl at the bottom of the asset transfer forms.
"She's been moving money for months," Sal murmured, sinking back into his worn armchair with a quiet sigh. "Ever since old Mr. Moretti passed away. She convinced Luca that the overseas holdings needed consolidation, but she never consolidated anything. She just redirected it."
I touched the edge of the paper. It felt heavy, expensive stock, completely out of place in Sal's modest quarters. "Does Luca know about any of this?"
"Not yet," Sal replied, looking up at me through cataract-clouded eyes. "He trusts her. That's her strength. She wraps herself in that red gown, smiles for the society pages, and makes everyone think she's saving the family dynasty from ruin. But she's the one taking the axe to the roots."
"We have to show him the rest," I said, my voice steadying despite the nervous flutter in my chest. "If there's a paper trail here, there has to be more in the main house. In his private study, or the filing cabinets behind his desk."
Sal shook his head slowly. "Luca keeps his father's office locked after dark, and Vanessa has the master key. You'd never get in there without setting off the security alarms."
"I have the master cleaning keys," I reminded him softly, holding up the heavy brass ring hanging from my belt loop. "I'm the one who scrubs the hardwood and dusts the mahogany every morning before the sun comes up. Nobody looks twice at a maid with a key ring."
Sal stared at me for a long moment, the flickering lamplight catching the deep lines carved into his face by decades of loyalty. "It's dangerous, Emma. If Vanessa catches you poking around that office, she won't just fire you. She'll ruin your name from here to Philadelphia before you can pack your bags."
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"She already threatened my brother's tuition," I whispered, the memory of her cold words in the pantry tightening my throat. "I'm already on her list. I might as well make it count."
Sal didn't try to stop me. He carefully folded the ledger page, slid it back into the frame behind the old polaroid, and handed the heavy wooden frame to me. "Keep this safe. If I'm going down, I want to make sure the boy gets the truth."
