1037 They Sent Me on a Blind Date with Boston’s Most Feared Mafia Boss as a Joke—Now I Hold the Ledger That Can Bring Down His Empire

Daniel didn't look at the two men blocking the exit. His gray eyes locked immediately onto Sarah, then shifted slowly to me, standing behind the counter with my hands resting on the edge of the newly signed property deed.

“I see we have an uninvited guest,” Daniel said, his voice cutting through the quiet gloom of the bookstore with absolute authority.

“She says Vance’s lawyers are filing an injunction,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs as I looked from Sarah’s terrified face to Daniel’s calm expression. “They’re claiming we extorted the title at the estate last night.”

“They can claim whatever they like,” Daniel said, stepping further into the aisle and stopping two feet from Sarah. He didn't raise his voice, but the two corporate enforcers near the door instinctively took half a step back, recognizing the tier of predator they were dealing with. “An injunction requires an uncontested affidavit. And Thomas Vance’s grandson isn't going to sign an affidavit that opens up his entire network of offshore shipping accounts to a federal audit.”

Sarah stared at Daniel, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You... you don't understand. Vance doesn't care about the audit anymore. He’s liquidating everything. He’s leaving for Zurich on a private charter out of Hanscom Field at two o’clock this afternoon.”

Daniel’s expression didn't change, but his eyes hardened into chipped flint.

“Is that so?” Daniel asked softly.

“Yes!” Sarah cried, clutching the lapels of her stained raincoat. “He called David this morning from a burner phone. He said anyone who knows about the Dry Dock 4 data trunk is a liability that needs to be wiped off the books before he boards that plane!”

The silence in the bookstore returned—not the peaceful quiet of secondhand paperbacks, but the dead, suffocating vacuum of a trap snapping shut.

Daniel turned his head slowly, looking at me across the wooden counter. The casual warmth that had flickered between us during our dinners and late-night drives was completely gone, replaced by the stark, undeniable reality of the world he lived in every day.

“Emily,” Daniel said quietly. “Do you still have the ledger?”

I reached into the inner pocket of the coat I was still wearing, my fingers wrapping around the cracked leather binding of the book that had started it all.

“I have it,” I said.

“Good,” Daniel replied, pulling out his phone and tapping a single number on the screen. “Because the flight to Zurich doesn't leave for another three hours. And I think it’s time we returned Mr. Vance’s property in person.”