“Or we destroy it.”
He stares at me, clearly struggling to understand. “Destroy it? With all due respect, that’s—that would be a mistake. A weapon like that doesn’t come along often.”
“That ledger is a weapon that doesn’t discriminate. It destroys everyone it touches, including the people holding it.”
“It also protects. Dante, I’m not questioning your authority here, but I’m asking you to think strategically. We’re under attack. The families think you’re hunting this for yourself anyway. At least make it worth the war we’re already fighting.”
“And what happens when someone comes for it? When the politicians whose secrets are in there decide they can’t risk it existing? When federal agencies get involved because we’re holding evidence of crimes that reach the highest levels of government?”
Viktor’s jaw tightens. “We deal with it the same way we deal with everything else. With force and strategy. That’s what we do. That’s what you’ve built this organization to do.”
“There’s no strategy that survives what’s in that ledger, Viktor. It’s too big. Too dangerous. It would make us targets for everyone from the FBI to foreign intelligence agencies.”
He takes a breath, visibly trying a different approach. “Then at least let me see what we’re dealing with. Let me help you figure out the best move. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
“I do, actually. This decision is mine to make.”
“So what are we doing? Are we still looking for it or not?”
“We find it. And then I decide what to do with it.”
Viktor’s expression shows he doesn’t like that answer, but he knows better than to push further. He nods once, respectfully.
“Understood. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.”
He leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.
That evening, I drive to see Father Benedetto.
He’s in the sanctuary, preparing for evening mass when I arrive.
“Dante.” He looks up and smiles. “Two visits in one month. Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
He gestures to a pew and I sit, feeling out of place in this holy space like I always do. The man who sits here is different from the man who runs an empire built on violence. But I don’t know which one is real anymore.
“What’s troubling you?”
“Everything. The ledger, the attacks, what it all means for my son.”
“Talk to me.”
I explain what my investigators found. The scope of it. The implications. The evidence of my father’s crimes that I can never unknow.
Father Benedetto listens without judgment, as he always does.
“You’re afraid of what finding it will mean,” he says when I finish.
“I’m afraid of what’s in it. What it says about where I come from. What it means for who I am.”
“The sins of the father don’t have to be the sins of the son, Dante. You know that.”
“Do I? Because I’ve spent my entire adult life building on the foundation he laid. Using the connections he made. Profiting from the empire he created through blood and suffering.”
“And you’ve also spent years trying to be different. Trying to have lines you won’t cross. You’re not your father.”
