Page 38 of Brutal Crown
Outside, the air is colder than before. The factory looms behind me, and I walk toward my car in heavy steps, breath clouding the night air. When I return to the estate, no one sees the change in my eyes.
I’m good at hiding the monster inside. The one that’s currently spiraling.
Adriano had a plan I didn’t know about. Lia isn’t just some frightened girl caught in the wrong web. She’s a ticking bomb. Her father made sure that if anything happened to her, his secrets wouldn’t stay buried.
Secrets we do not want getting back to the Elders.
This is deeper than her paying dues for her father’s crimes. It is deeper than revenge.
She’s already marked.
I loosen my tie as I walk down the hallway, overhearing my aunts in a nearby room talking about the engagement ceremony. Silvia’s voice drifts through the walls as she speaks softly, something about a dress fitting.
But none of it matters right now.
There’s only one thing I need to do. I need to find that journal. Because if I don’t, and the Elders get to it first…
…I might be forced to kill her.
11
LIA
I’ve gotten used to the smell of the cellar.
It has a fresh, fruity scent with a hint of dust lingering in the air. I’ve been sneaking into the dark room more often. Each trip is a way of getting closer to the truth about my father’s death, to find out exactly what he was mixed up in.
Every night, after the house falls quiet, I sneak out of my room, holding my breath and moving slowly to prevent waking anyone. I have several questions that need answers, questions that have piled up over the years, questions I shoved down the deepest parts of my heart because I never thought I would find answers.
So far, I haven’t found anything meaningful in the cellar. But I won’t stop because Iknowthere’s something. Hanging around Marco has also proven to be of some help. After he tried to kiss me the other day, I avoided him for a bit to clear my head. But yesterday, when he called me out to the courtyard, I answered.
There was a little tension in the air as we spoke. I tried to be a bit more relaxed; I tried to forget how dangerous it was being seen around him, especially after what I overheard. Instead, I vowed not to let any moment we spend together go to waste.
We started to banter over something, and in the midst of it, I asked him if he knew my father. He seemed reluctant to tell me anything at first, but with a little emotional blackmail and a sob story about how I missed my father and I just wanted to know the kind of man he was, Marco gave in.
My father was actually their accountant, but not an ordinary one. He did illegal things for the Romanos, covering up their tracks. Contraband shipments worth millions, money laundering, you name it.
Marco stopped there. I could tell he didn’t want to share anything that could reveal what I should not know. Too bad. Now, I have a little more context on the situation. My father must have found something he wasn’t supposed to. And it wasn’t just illegal businesses or proof of financial fraud. He was already in charge of that.
Something else. Something more important.
So tonight, I’m back in the cellar with my flashlight in hand. I start by going through the old records again, careful to take note of anything I might have missed before. Maybe the message he left is in code. It probably requires a keen, observing eye to be able to spot it.
There are stacks of documents, some piled neatly, others carelessly thrown into boxes. I look over each of them again. More thoroughly this time. Old statements of accounts for the Romanos’ various businesses. Unfortunately, I find nothing important that connects to my father, except for his initials, scribbled over and over on pages full of financial transactions.
Most of the transactions are vague. There are odd lists of “special transactions” and “legacy holdings,” things that don’t belong in an accountant’s report.
All I can pick out are the several strange gaps in the records. It almost seems like they’re speaking in code. I’m no expert, but Ican tell the Romanos have their fingers in something far deeper, darker, and worse than everyone else knows.
I think about Marco as I pull another dusty sheet from a box. I know he’s hiding something, and a part of me fears he might be on to me. I know I need to tone it down a little with the questions, but at the same time, there’s impatience clawing at me. My life is at risk.
Olga and Dante are planning something, and I can’t let myself remain in the dark. I have to find out what they think I know. It might be my key to getting out of this place.
I spend the next two hours with no luck, searching and looking through all the documents. Exhausted, I lean against a crumbling wine shelf. My fingers ache from flipping through page after page, and my head hurts. I close my eyes for a moment, the only sound the distant chirping of crickets in the night.
A hollow thud pierces the silence. My ear quips as I lean away from the shelf. I wait for a few seconds to hear the sound again, my heart pounding. Someone else might be here. When I don’t hear anything, I press my body against the wood again, and that is when I feel the shelf shifting.
A silent gasp leaves my lips as a seam appears. I push it open further to reveal a hidden compartment in the shelf. My heart races as I lean forward, brushing away the layers of dust to reveal strange symbols carved into the wood.
