Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Valenzia
The kitchen of the lake house was warm, the espresso machine hissing softly on the counter as Marco prepared a fresh pot of coffee. Victor Valenzia sat at the wooden table, his gray coat draped neatly over the back of the chair, his hands resting flat on the table. He hadn't flinched when Dante had searched him, nor had he resisted when they had brought him back to the sanctuary under armed guard.
"My nephews, Marcus and Thomas, are fools," Victor said, taking a small sip of the espresso Marco set down without a word. The old chef didn't look friendly; his hand was resting near a heavy carving knife on the prep block. "They believe that because the old networks were broken by the federal raids last year, they can simply rebuild Table Seven using the new logistical platforms. They bought OmniCure Imports to move their capital, and they targeted your institute because they wanted the ultimate revenge against the woman who exposed them."
"And you?" Emma asked, standing across the table from him, her arms crossed. "Why are you here? You’re a Valenzia. You ran the Chicago district for twenty years."
"I ran it when it had rules, Emma," Victor said, his eyes meeting hers with a cold, absolute sincerity. "Your father was a magnificent chef. His restaurant failed because he didn't understand that the wine suppliers were using his cellars to store contraband. When I found out what my brother had done to him, I tried to stop it. But the family... the family moves like a landslide. You cannot stop it from the inside."
He tapped the leather ledger on the table between them.
"Your father kept detailed records of every delivery that came through his back door," Victor explained. "Not just the flour and the meat, but the serial numbers of the crates that were moved through his storage rooms at three in the morning. That ledger contains the original routing codes for the Valenzia Group’s offshore trust fund—a fund that currently holds forty-two million dollars of untaxed capital. Marcus and Thomas don't know this ledger exists. They think I destroyed it when your father died."
Dante stepped out of the shadows, his face hard. "Why give it to us now?"
"Because I am dying," Victor said simply, pulling aside his collar to reveal the pale, scarred skin of a man undergoing aggressive medical treatment. "The doctors give me six months. I have no children, and I refuse to leave my life's residual holdings to two boys who think a kitchen is just a place to wash dirty money. If you use the codes in that ledger, Evelyn can trigger a global asset seizure that will wipe out OmniCure Imports within forty-eight hours. It will strip Marcus and Thomas of every dollar they have to buy weapons or hire operators."
"And what do you want in return?" Emma asked.
Victor looked around the warm kitchen, his gaze lingering on the copper pans hanging from the rack, the smell of fresh rosemary bread that still hung in the air from the day's baking.
"I want a seat at the graduation dinner next month," the old man said, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips. "I want to taste a real lemon tart made by a free woman, in a kitchen that doesn't owe a dime to the dark. That’s my price."
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Emma looked at Dante, then down at her father’s ledger. The book was old, the pages yellowed, but it carried the scent of the man who had taught her how to hold a knife before the world went wrong.
"Evelyn," Emma called out toward the basement intercom. "Open the global recovery files. We have some accounts to close."
