Chapter 4 - The Traitor’s Ledger
The next morning, the golden sunlight streaming through the estate’s arched windows felt heavy and suffocating.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass of the greenhouse, watching Lily carefully water a row of white camellias with a small plastic watering can. She hummed a soft, wordless tune, her blonde hair catching the light. She looked so peaceful, so completely detached from the lethal underworld that surrounded her.
My mind, however, was racing.
Thomas. The chemical solvent. The way he moved. The effortless way he navigated the estate’s classified security zones during a blackout.
If Thomas was the mole—the inside man who had opened the gates for the assassins—then Lily was still in mortal danger every single second she breathed air inside this fortress.
“Julian?”
I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts as Lily tugged gently on my sleeve. She was looking up at me with concern in her hazel eyes. “You’ve been staring at that wall for five minutes. Are your chest pains acting up again?”
“No, no. I’m fine, kiddo,” I forced a reassuring smile, kneeling down to her eye level. “Just thinking about our chess match this afternoon. I’m planning to destroy your rook.”
She giggled, her bright laugh washing away the dark thoughts for a moment. “You said that yesterday, and then you lost your queen on turn twelve.”
“That was a tactical retreat,” I protested playfully.
After dropping Lily off with her private tutor in the study lounge at noon, I made a silent decision. I couldn't go to Dominic without proof. In the Rosetti world, baseless accusations got people killed—or worse, made you look paranoid. I needed evidence linking Thomas to the breach.
And the only place to find digital evidence of a high-level corporate or domestic betrayal was the estate’s main security archive—a high-security server room located in the subterranean basement beneath the main offices.
Getting into the basement required a level-three biometric clearance card. Which I didn't have.
Unless...
An hour later, I found myself standing outside Dominic’s private second-floor study. The heavy oak doors were closed, but I could hear the muffled sound of his voice speaking in low, clipped tones over a secure satellite phone.
I waited in the hallway, pacing slowly, until the door clicked open.
Dominic stepped out, looking exhausted, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He stopped when he saw me.
“Vance. Is Lily alright?”
“She’s fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “She’s with her tutor. Dominic... we need to talk. Privately.”
Dominic studied my face for a second, then gestured back into the study. “Make it quick. I have a shipment arriving at the docks in forty minutes.”
Once the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind us, I didn't waste time dancing around the subject.
“I think I know who let the hit squad into the estate last week,” I said flatly.
Dominic’s expression didn't change, but the air in the room instantly dropped twenty degrees. His dark eyes locked onto mine like a pair of thermal sights. “Name.”
“Thomas.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. A dangerous, lethal stillness washed over him. “Thomas has served this family for sixteen years. He changed my diapers—metaphorically speaking. He buried my wife. On whose authority do you accuse him?”
“On my own observation,” I said, stepping closer. “Last night, I caught him in the kitchen service corridor at two in the morning. He smelled of industrial ballistic solvent—the kind used to clean suppressed firearms. He moves like an operative, not a butler. And he has access to every security code, camera blind spot, and panic room in this estate.”
Dominic stared at me in silence. The tension in the room was so thick it felt like trying to breathe underwater.
“You want to search his quarters?” Dominic asked quietly.
“I want to check the security archive logs for the night of the attack,” I corrected him. “If Thomas opened the perimeter gates, his biometric override stamp will be sitting in the server database, timestamped down to the exact second.”
Dominic walked over to his massive mahogany desk, unlocked a hidden drawer with a small physical key, and pulled out a heavy titanium keycard stamped with the Rosetti crest.
May you like
He tossed it across the desk. It landed with a soft clack on the wood.
“The server room is in sub-level two,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, menacing rasp. “If you find proof, bring it to me. If you’re wrong... well, Julian, let’s just say my patience for mistakes is shorter than your lease was.”
