The gavel struck the mahogany stand, not with the dry thud of justice, but with the final, sickening finality of a guillotine blade hitting the floor.

The storm broke as Leo approached Silas’s upscale apartment downtown. The rain lashed against the windows like angry fingernails. Leo unlocked the door, stepping into the immaculate, minimalist space. It didn't look like the home of a money launderer. It looked like the home of a successful architect. Everything about Silas was a carefully constructed lie.

Leo walked into the bedroom, pushing the heavy king-sized bed aside. He ran his fingers along the hardwood floor until he felt a slight give. He pried the board up with a pocketknife.

Inside the hidden compartment was a black canvas duffel bag.

Leo pulled it out and unzipped it on the mattress. His breath caught. Inside were three passports, all with Silas’s picture but different names. There were stacks of bound hundred-dollar bills—at least two hundred thousand dollars. But at the bottom of the bag was what chilled Leo to the bone.

A sleek, black Glock 19. Two extra magazines. And a thick leather-bound ledger.

Leo opened the ledger. It was a meticulous record of every dollar Silas had washed for the Maroni syndicate, detailing bribes paid to city officials, police captains, and judges. Including Judge Sterling.

Arthur Sterling wasn't just the man Silas killed, Leo realized, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was the judge's brother.

The trial was rigged from the start. They were going to convict Leo to punish Silas, and then they were going to kill Silas in prison to bury the ledger forever.