Chapter 15 Julian
Not despite the danger. Not despite the constant vigilance. Not despite knowing that federal agents and enemies from my past were watching.
Because of the honesty. Because nobody was pretending this was a normal life. Because the danger was acknowledged and managed instead of hidden behind pretty lies.
The delivery truck pulled up. Elio stood beside me, eyes scanning the vehicle, the driver, the surroundings. Always assessing threats. Always three steps ahead of danger.
"Watch the driver's hands," he said quietly. "Anyone approaching a delivery should keep their hands visible. If they don't, that's your first warning something's wrong."
I watched. The driver kept his hands on the wheel, then visible as he climbed out. Reached for paperwork slowly. Made no sudden movements.
"Clear?" I asked.
"Clear. But always verify." Elio gestured to his security team. They approached the truck, checked the cargo against manifest, scanned for anomalies.
Two weeks ago this level of scrutiny would have seemed paranoid. Now I understood it was necessary. Survival depended on constant vigilance. On never assuming safety. On always checking.
The shipment cleared inspection. Legal liquor delivery for the club. Nothing suspicious.
"Good instincts," Elio said as we headed back inside. "You're learning fast."
"I had a good teacher."
He smiled. Kissed my temple. "Come on. We've got a meeting with Sandro at eight. You're presenting your findings on the restaurant acquisition."
Right. My actual job now. Consulting on legitimate business operations.
It turned out my education was useful for something beyond impressing my father's associates.
At eight I sat in Sandro's office with a presentation deck I'd spent three days preparing.
"The Meridian Restaurant Group acquisition looks good on paper," I started, pulling up financial projections on the screen.
"They've got twelve upscale restaurants across New York and New Jersey.
Revenue's steady. Real estate holdings are valuable.
It seems like a solid investment for your legitimate portfolio. "
"I hear a 'but' coming," Sandro said.
"But there are legal risks buried in their corporate structure that could become liabilities.
" I clicked to the next slide. "Three of their locations are operating under licensing agreements that expire in the next eighteen months.
The property owners are demanding steep rent increases to renew.
If Meridian can't negotiate better terms, those locations become unprofitable. "
"Can't they just break the leases?"
"Not without significant penalties. The contracts have clauses that require substantial buyouts for early termination.
We're talking millions per location." I pulled up the specific contract language.
"Additionally, two locations have pending health code violations that haven't been fully resolved.
If those escalate to closures, it impacts the entire brand reputation. "
Luca leaned forward. "So you're saying this acquisition is a bad investment?"
"Not necessarily. I'm saying we need to negotiate from a position of knowing their vulnerabilities.
Use the licensing issues and health code problems to drive down the acquisition price.
Build contingency plans into the deal structure.
Maybe negotiate property purchase options instead of continuing leases.
" I clicked to my recommendations slide.
"If we address these risks upfront, Meridian could be profitable.
But going in blind at their asking price? That's throwing away money."
Sandro studied the presentation. Then looked at me. "This is excellent work. Thorough. Exactly the kind of analysis we need before committing capital."
"Julian's right about the negotiating leverage," Elio added.
He'd reviewed my work last night, made suggestions, helped me refine the presentation.
Partners. "We use their vulnerabilities to restructure the deal.
Maybe acquire the profitable locations individually. Let them keep the problem properties."
"Smart." Sandro made notes on his tablet. "Julian, I want you to attend the acquisition negotiations. Provide real-time analysis. Make sure we're not walking into legal traps."
Pride swelled in my chest. "I can do that."
"I know you can. That's why I'm bringing you." Sandro's expression was approving. "You've proven valuable beyond just the information about your father. You're contributing skills we actually need. That matters."
After the meeting, Elio walked me back to his office.
"That was impressive," he said. "Sandro doesn't praise people easily. The fact that he wants you in negotiations? That's significant."
"I'm just using my education."
"You're using your brain. Your ability to spot patterns and risks. Your understanding of how systems work." He pulled me close. "You're making yourself essential. Not just to me. To all of us."
"Is that okay? Me being essential?"
"It's more than okay. It's what partnership looks like. You contributing your skills. Being valued for what you bring to the table." He kissed me softly. "I'm proud of you."
The words hit harder than they should have. My father had never been proud. Had only ever seen me as useful or disappointing. Never valuable for my own sake.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"Come on. We've got mole hunting to do."
We spent the next four hours in Elio's security office reviewing financial records.
Jake Byrne's records specifically.
The senior accountant had been with Inferno for five years. Worked closely with Stefan on the books. Had access to financial systems and records. Would know exactly what information the FBI would find interesting.
And his records showed irregularities.
"There," I said, pointing to a series of transactions on screen. "Small transfers out of operating accounts. Five hundred to a thousand dollars each. Dozens of them over the past year."
"Could be legitimate expenses," Elio said. But he was leaning in, interested.
"Except they're not coded to any expense category. They're showing up as miscellaneous transfers. No documentation. No receipts. Just money moving out of accounts Jake has access to into external accounts."
"Whose accounts?"
I traced the receiving accounts through three layers of corporate structure. "Shell companies. Same pattern as the money going to the three moles. Different companies but same structure. Someone's using the same laundering method."
Elio pulled up another screen. "What about Bennett and Greene? Are we seeing similar patterns with them?"
We spent an hour checking. David Bennett's IT records showed normal operations. No unexplained access logs. No suspicious activity. Patricia Greene's operations records were clean too. Everything documented. Everything accounted for.
But Jake's records showed a pattern.
"He's good," I said. "The amounts are small enough not to trigger automatic fraud detection. The timing is irregular enough not to establish an obvious pattern. If I wasn't specifically looking for this, I'd miss it completely."
"But you were looking. And you found it." Elio made notes. "What else?"
I pulled up access logs. "Jake's been accessing files he shouldn't need for his job. Security protocols. Meeting schedules. Employee records. Always late at night when fewer people are monitoring. Always from his personal terminal so it's logged to him but easy to claim he was just working late."
"That's not normal accounting work."
"No. It's intelligence gathering." I felt cold certainty settle in my chest. "It's him. Jake Byrne is the mole."
"We need more before we act. Circumstantial evidence isn't enough. We need proof he's been feeding information to the FBI. Proof he coordinated with the moles. Proof that stands up to scrutiny."
"So we keep watching?"
"We keep watching. We document everything. We wait for him to make contact with his handlers. And then we move." Elio's expression was grim. "But yes. I think you're right. It's Jake."
We worked until early afternoon. Building the case. Documenting evidence. Creating a timeline that showed Jake's access patterns correlating with information the FBI had acted on.
The picture was damning. Not conclusive yet. But getting there.
"We should present this to Sandro," I said finally. "Let all the partners see what we've found."
"Agreed. I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow. Give us tonight to refine the presentation. Make sure it's airtight."
We were organizing files when Matteo knocked on the door.
"You two look like you've been at this for hours. When's the last time either of you ate?"
I checked the time. 2 PM. We'd worked through lunch.
"We'll eat later—" Elio started.
"You'll eat now," Matteo cut him off. "Both of you. I'm not letting you turn into the obsessive version of yourself again. Come on. Kitchen. Food. Now."
We followed him to Inferno's kitchen. The lunch service was winding down but the chef made us plates anyway. Pasta with chicken. Salad. Bread.
Matteo sat with us while we ate.
"So," he said casually. "How're you settling in, Julian? To life in our world?"
"Better than I expected. It's different from what I grew up with."
"How so?"
"My father's organization was all about appearances.
Looking legitimate while doing illegal things.
Pretending everything was fine while people got hurt behind closed doors.
" I took a bite of pasta. "Here, nobody pretends.
The danger is acknowledged. The violence is managed.
There's no pretense of being something we're not. "
"And that appeals to you? The honesty of it?"
"More than the alternative. I'd rather know the truth and deal with it than live behind pretty lies."