Chapter 10 - The Syndicate
The glass slipped from my hand, shattering against the Persian rug, splashing scotch across my shoes.
“What?” I breathed, the room tilting dangerously.
“Agent Miller,” Nico repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept to a child, “is a dirty cop on my uncle’s payroll. That entire interrogation, the warrant, the seizure of the ledger—it was all an orchestrated play by my own family.”
I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the implications.
“But... why? Why would your uncle want you investigated?”
Nico sighed, a weary, heavy sound.
He walked over to a leather armchair and sank into it, suddenly looking every bit of his thirty-four years.
“Because, Evelyn, I have been trying to legitimize this family since my father died. I’ve been quietly dismantling the illegal operations, moving our assets into clean, taxable businesses.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“My Uncle Carmine... he doesn't approve. He prefers the old ways. The violence. The extortion.”
“So he’s trying to frame you?”
“He’s trying to build a case against me to present to the Commission—the heads of the other families. If he can prove I’m weak, or that I’m making deals with the feds, they will sanction a hit on me. And Carmine takes over.”
I felt sick.
The wire taped to my ribs felt suddenly like a noose tightening around my neck.
“And my father?” I asked, the pieces finally starting to fall into place. “Where does he fit into this?”
“Your father didn't steal twenty million dollars from me,” Nico said, his gaze locking onto mine. “He stole it from Carmine.”
The silence in the room was absolute.
“Carmine was using Hart Meridian to launder money without my knowledge,” Nico continued. “When your father found out, he got greedy. He skimmed off the top. When Carmine discovered the theft, he threatened James. So, James came to me.”
“He came to you for protection?”
Nico nodded.
“The deal was simple. I clear his debt with Carmine, I protect his family, and in exchange, he gives me the ledger—the proof I need to take Carmine down for unsanctioned laundering.”
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly too weak to support me.
My father hadn't sold me out.
He had tried to save us.
And I had just handed the only piece of evidence against Carmine straight to his top enforcer.
“I gave Miller the ledger,” I whispered, horror washing over me. “I gave them exactly what they wanted.”
“I know,” Nico said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I told you to.”
“Why?!” I demanded, anger suddenly flaring, overriding my fear. “Why would you let me give them the very thing that proves your uncle’s treason?”
Nico stood up, walking toward me slowly.
“Because, Evelyn, the ledger you found in the hollowed-out book wasn't the real one.”
He stopped inches from me, his scent a comforting mix of scotch and cedar.
“It was a decoy. Filled with enough confusing, contradictory accounts to keep Miller’s forensic accountants busy for weeks. Your father gave me the real ledger hours before our wedding.”
He reached out, his knuckles brushing lightly against my cheek.
“I needed them to think they had won. I needed them to think you were cooperating. Because tonight, the Commission is meeting. And I am going to use the real ledger to destroy my uncle.”
I stared up at him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
He had planned this all along.
He had played everyone, including me.
“So what now?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Now,” Nico said, his eyes darkening, “we take off that wire. And then, we get dressed. You are coming with me to the Commission meeting.”
He stepped closer, his body heat radiating against mine.
“You are going to stand by my side, Evelyn, and you are going to show them exactly why they should fear the new Mrs. Caruso.”
For the first time since my father’s SUV arrived at my apartment, I didn't feel like a pawn.
I felt like a queen on a very dangerous chessboard.
I nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
Nico’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile.
He reached for the hem of my blouse to help me remove the wire.
But before his fingers could touch the fabric, his personal cell phone rang.
Not the burner. Not his business line.
His private, encrypted phone.
He frowned, pulling it from his pocket and putting it on speaker.
“Nico,” a frantic voice gasped through the speaker. It was his head of security. “Sir, you need to get out of the house. Now.”
“What is it, Marco?” Nico demanded, his relaxed demeanor vanishing instantly.
“It’s not Uncle Carmine, sir. It’s worse.”
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Static crackled over the line, followed by the sound of heavy gunfire.
“They breached the perimeter! They’re inside the house!” Marco yelled. “And sir... they aren't mafia. They’re Russian.”
