Chapter 3 - The Ghost Accounts
The private study of the Gold Coast penthouse was dark, illuminated only by the harsh, blue-white glow of the laptop screen resting on the mahogany desk. Marco tapped the trackpad, bringing up a complex web of corporate spreadsheets, offshore routing numbers, and encrypted communication logs.
"It's not just shipping fraud," Marco said, his voice tense as he scrolled down through a list of transactions originating from the Cayman Islands and Zurich. "Sterling wasn't just trying to undercut our port logistics. He was using our shipping channels as a front to funnel money for a syndicate-backed weapons acquisition ring operating right out of the Great Lakes."
Gabriel leaned over the desk, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the corporate entity names. "These aren't Sterling's companies. At least, not on paper."
"Exactly," Marco replied, pulling up a secondary file. "Look at the ultimate beneficial owner listed on page four of the sub-ledger. The signature is masked behind a shell trust in Delaware, but Mia’s automated audit scripts flagged the recurring authorization codes."
Gabriel stared at the name highlighted in yellow on the screen. His blood ran cold.
"Senator Vance?" Gabriel whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. Not his father—his uncle, Senator Robert Vance, the clean-cut, charismatic politician who frequently appeared on Chicago news channels preaching about law, order, and fiscal responsibility.
"Your uncle’s campaign PAC has been receiving laundered payouts from Sterling’s front companies for the last three years," Marco confirmed grimly. "In exchange, Robert used his seat on the state transportation committee to block federal inspections on the docks Sterling wanted to control. When your father died and Daniel took over the family assets, they tried to buy him out. When Daniel refused..." Marco paused, letting the unspoken reality hang heavily in the air.
Gabriel’s hands curled into fists on the edge of the mahogany desk, his knuckles turning white. The highway accident that had killed his younger brother eighteen months ago had been officially ruled a mechanical failure—a blown tire on a wet interstate at midnight. Gabriel had mourned, blamed himself for not being closer, and buried his brother with a heavy heart.
It wasn't an accident.
"My uncle killed Daniel," Gabriel said, his voice barely above a whisper, vibrating with a lethal, suppressed fury that made even Marco step back a half-step.
"We don't have direct proof of the crash yet," Marco cautioned carefully. "But the timeline matches. Daniel discovered discrepancies in the port logistics funding three weeks before his car went off the overpass. He told Robert he was going to audit the books himself."
Gabriel closed his eyes for three seconds, breathing in slowly through his nose as the rage inside him threatened to tear him apart from the inside out. For eighteen months, he had blamed bad luck, wet asphalt, and his own emotional distance. But the truth was far uglier. Betrayal had been sitting at his family's Thanksgiving dinner table, smiling, shaking hands, and comforting him over his brother's open casket.
"Where is Robert right now?" Gabriel asked, his eyes snapping open. They were entirely devoid of warmth.
"He's scheduled to speak at a fundraising gala at the Drake Hotel tonight," Marco said, checking his watch. "Classified guest list. High-profile donors, judges, and local police chiefs."
Gabriel turned away from the desk, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan as the sun began to rise over the horizon. The golden light caught the edge of the skyline, but the city below felt suddenly small, fragile, and ripe for a reckoning.
"Get the cars ready," Gabriel said coldly.
"What about Mia?" Marco asked. "She’s the only one who can authenticate the ledger if we take this to the federal authorities."
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"Mia stays here under heavy guard," Gabriel said without turning around. "And when I come back from the Drake Hotel tonight, Robert Vance is going to learn what happens when a Romano takes out the trash."
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