Chapter 3 - The Accountant in the Lion’s Den
Victor’s men brought Tessa to a private office above one of his shipping warehouses near the East River.
The building looked abandoned from outside, its brick walls dark with rain and age. But inside, it was alive with quiet movement. Armed guards watched doors. Phones rang. Men spoke in low voices over maps, surveillance images, and financial records.
Victor’s empire had always been a rumor to Tessa.
Now she was standing inside its heartbeat.
She should have been terrified.
Instead, she was too focused on Liam.
Victor placed Gabriel’s records on a long table.
“You said you can trace accounts,” he told her.
Tessa looked at the pages.
“I can.”
“Then find him.”
She glanced up.
“Find Gabriel?”
“Find where he moved the money. People like Gabriel do not betray powerful men without preparing an escape.”
Tessa sat down.
For the next hour, she worked.
Numbers had always made sense to her in a way people often did not. Numbers left patterns. They carried fingerprints. They revealed greed, panic, carelessness, and lies.
Gabriel had been careful.
But not careful enough.
He used several accounts, fake consulting firms, offshore companies, and cash-heavy nightlife businesses. But every transfer eventually passed through a private investment fund connected to Arthur Pendleton.
Tessa found a payment marked as “emergency redevelopment security.”
Then she found a warehouse lease.
Then a delivery invoice.
The location was not far.
A waterfront construction site owned by Pendleton Urban Renewal.
Tessa’s hands stopped moving.
“This is where Liam is.”
Victor leaned over her shoulder.
“You are sure?”
“The lease was signed two days ago. The company has no legitimate business activity. And Gabriel transferred money there an hour after the gala attack.”
Victor looked toward Dominic, his head of security.
“Prepare the team.”
Tessa stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“You said I could help.”
“You have helped.”
“He is my brother.”
Victor’s eyes held hers.
“And that is exactly why you cannot go.”
Tessa stepped closer.
“You do not know what it means to have only one person left.”
Something changed in Victor’s face.
For a moment, he looked away.
“My father taught me that family was a weapon,” he said quietly. “He was wrong.”
Tessa did not know what to say.
Victor looked back at her.
“You will stay here.”
“No.”
“That was not a request.”
“And I am not one of your men.”
The room became silent.
Several guards looked toward Victor, waiting for anger.
Tessa waited too.
Instead, Victor exhaled slowly.
“Then you will wear a vest,” he said.
Twenty minutes later, Tessa sat in the back of a second armored vehicle wearing a protective vest beneath a borrowed black coat. Victor sat beside her, checking a handgun with calm precision.
She watched him.
“Do you ever regret it?” she asked.
He did not look up.
“Regret what?”
“The life you chose.”
Victor clicked the weapon shut.
“Every day.”
The answer surprised her.
“But regret does not undo anything,” he continued. “It only tells you where you should have been different.”
Tessa looked out the window.
“That sounds almost hopeful.”
Victor gave a faint, humorless smile.
“Do not mistake honesty for hope.”
The waterfront construction site was dark when they arrived.
A half-built luxury tower rose against the rain-heavy sky. The surrounding lots were empty except for construction fences, shipping containers, and the skeletal shadows of cranes.
Victor’s team moved through the perimeter quietly.
Tessa stayed behind a concrete barrier with Dominic.
Then a voice came through the radio.
“Movement on level two.”
Victor moved first.
Tessa’s stomach twisted as gunfire erupted inside the unfinished building.
She heard shouting.
Footsteps.
A crash.
Then silence.
Dominic pressed one hand to his earpiece.
“Mr. Moretti has Liam.”
Tessa ran before he could stop her.
Inside the building, rain blew through open window frames. Concrete dust filled the air. On the second floor, she found Liam lying on the ground beside a steel column, his wrists bound but his eyes open.
“Tessa,” he gasped.
She dropped beside him.
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can apologize later.”
Victor stood several feet away, his suit torn at one shoulder, Gabriel’s gun aimed at the floor.
Gabriel was gone.
“He escaped through the north exit,” Dominic said.
Victor’s face was stone.
Then Liam grabbed Tessa’s sleeve.
“Pendleton,” he whispered. “He is going after the archives.”
Victor turned.
“What archives?”
Liam looked at Tessa.
“The old records. The ones that prove who owns the land near the harbor. Pendleton wants the city to burn, then he wants to buy everything cheap.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“Where are the records?”
Liam swallowed.
“In the St. Regis.”
Tessa stared at him.
“The gala?”
“It was never just a fundraiser,” Liam said. “The politicians, the judge, Pendleton—all of them were there because the documents were being exchanged tonight.”
Victor’s face changed.
The attack was not only about killing him.
It was about clearing the ballroom.
Creating panic.
Giving Gabriel access to private files while everyone ran.
Tessa looked toward Victor.
“He is going back to the hotel.”
May you like
Victor nodded.
“And this time,” he said, “we end it.”
