Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Past
The kitchen island was made of solid black granite, polished until it reflected the ambient lights of the city below. Nico poured two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter, pushed one toward me, and leaned against the counter.
I kept the cashmere robe pulled tight around my neck, sitting on one of the leather stools with my feet tucked under me. The silence between us wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't the violent, threatening silence I had lived with in my father's house. It was heavy with anticipation.
“Drink it,” Nico said quietly. “It will help with the shock.”
I took a small sip. The bourbon burned the back of my throat, but the heat spread through my chest, chasing away the violent shivers that had taken over my hands.
“He isn't going to stop,” I whispered, staring down into the amber glass. “My father is a coward, but a cornered coward is the most dangerous creature in the world. He knows that if I tell you what I found twelve years ago, his life is over.”
Nico took a slow drink, his eyes never leaving my face. “Start from the beginning. Not about the money. Not about Marco. Tell me about the scars.”
My fingers tightened around the glass until my knuckles turned white. “When I was twelve, my mother died. The public story was an aggressive form of ovarian cancer. She passed away in our home, surrounded by doctors. But three weeks before she died, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of arguing in my father's study.”
I paused, swallowing hard. The memory was as sharp as a freshly cut razor.
“I snuck down the back stairs. The door was cracked open. My mother was crying, begging him to stop. She was holding a blue leather-bound ledger—a physical record of private accounts. She kept saying, *'They're laundering money for the cartels, Edmund. They’re using our funds. If the SEC finds out, we lose everything.'*”
Nico set his glass down on the counter with a quiet, dull thud. “Go on.”
“My father snatched the book from her. He hit her across the face so hard she fell against the brass fireplace poker. When she tried to stand, he kicked her. I screamed. I couldn't stop myself. He turned, saw me standing in the hallway, and dragged me into the room.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had cried enough tears in that house to fill an ocean.
“My mother died three weeks later. Not from cancer. She died from internal hemorrhaging that my father paid private physicians to falsify as organ failure. And as for me... he made sure I knew what happened to people who spoke out of turn. Every time an audit came up, every time the SEC sniffed around his firm, he would bring me down to that study to remind me what silence cost.”
I looked up at Nico. “The scars on my back aren't from an accident. They're from the buckle of his belt. The ones on my ribs are from broken bones that were never set by a hospital. He kept me locked in the east wing of the estate for months at a time until the bruises faded.”
A terrifying stillness settled over Nico Ferrara. The air in the kitchen seemed to drop ten degrees. I had seen angry men before—my father was loud, explosive, violent. But Nico’s anger wasn't an explosion. It was an abyss. It was the crushing pressure of the deep ocean.
“Where is the blue ledger now?” Nico asked, his voice chillingly smooth.
“He thought he burned it,” I said. “He burned a blue book in the fireplace in front of me to prove a point. But he was drunk that night. He didn't check the pages. My mother had switched it with an old appointment diary. The real ledger was hidden inside the base of the grand piano in the music room of the Hamptons estate.”
Nico stood upright. “Is it still there?”
“I don't know,” I confessed. “I haven't been allowed in that house without an escort in six years. But Edmund never plays the piano, and he never allows the staff to move the furniture in that room. He believes the ledger is ash.”
Nico pulled out his phone, tapping a speed-dial number.
“Lev,” Nico said without waiting for a greeting. “Get a team of four to the Hamptons property. East Hampton, Lily Pond Lane. You go in quiet. Breach the music room. Dismantle the baby grand piano from the bottom casing. Look for a blue leather ledger. If anyone is guarding the estate, neutralize them without firing a shot. I want that book in this penthouse before dawn.”
He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
“You’re risking your life for this,” I said, looking at him with genuine confusion. “Why? You have your money. You have enough leverage to ruin him financially. Why go to war for a ledger that doesn't belong to you?”
Nico walked around the island until he stood directly in front of me. He reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushed a stray tear from my cheek. His touch sent a sudden, electric jolt straight down my spine.
“Because two weeks ago, someone tampered with the brake lines of my brother’s car and ran him into a concrete barrier,” Nico said, his voice raw with cold fury. “Marco survived by a miracle. The man who ordered that hit was taking orders from whoever holds your father’s leash. And because...”
He paused, his eyes scanning my face, dark and possessive.
May you like
“...No one hurts what belongs to me and continues to breathe. You bear my name now, Nora. Your father’s debt is no longer eight million dollars. His debt is his life.”
***
