Chapter 4 - A DEBT SIXTEEN YEARS OLD|
Gideon Ferraro's private office occupied the top floor of a restored building overlooking the Mississippi River. It had no gold decorations, no portraits of famous men, and no visible display of wealth beyond the view and the antique desk near the windows.
Camille had expected something darker.
Instead, she found a room arranged with almost severe restraint. Two chairs faced the desk. A bookcase held maritime histories, old legal volumes, and several framed photographs turned slightly away from visitors.
Gideon stood beside the window.
He wore a charcoal suit without a tie. In daylight, he looked younger than he had in the ballroom, though not less dangerous. His expression was calm, but Camille noticed the faint scar crossing his right hand.
“Miss Tibido.”
“Mr. Ferraro.”
“Please sit.”
“I'd rather stand.”
He accepted that without comment.
Tobias closed the door behind her.
Gideon glanced at the photograph in Camille's hand.
“I haven't seen that picture in sixteen years.”
“Why were you in my father's kitchen?”
“Because Étienne was helping me.”
“Helping you do what?”
“Find out who had stolen my brother's shipping records and used them to move stolen property through the port.”
Camille's eyes narrowed.
“You expect me to believe my father worked for you?”
“He didn't work for me. He worked with me.”
“Were you friends?”
Gideon took a moment before answering.
“We were.”
“Then why did he disappear?”
“Because he found something he shouldn't have.”
Camille set the photograph on his desk.
“What?”
Gideon opened a drawer and removed a small envelope. Inside was a yellowed page covered in handwriting she recognized immediately.
Her father's.
“He found a ledger showing that several prominent families had been laundering money through false cargo claims for decades. The documents connected them to stolen paintings, forged ownership certificates, and the disappearance of my brother.”
“Who were they?”
“Some are dead. Some are in prison. A few still have influence.”
“And you?”
“I was trying to find the original ledger.”
Camille stared at him.
“Sixteen years?”
“Sixteen years.”
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“I did. The first detective who agreed to meet me was found dead two days later. The second disappeared. After that, I stopped trusting anyone whose loyalty could be purchased.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It was also cowardly.”
The admission caught her off guard.
Gideon moved the paper toward her.
“Your father left a note. He said he had hidden the key to the ledger where only someone who understood the old maritime shorthand would recognize it.”
Camille did not touch the page.
“And you think that someone is me.”
“I know you can read the language. I don't know whether you know what he left behind.”
“Why didn't you tell me this at the auction?”
Gideon looked directly at her for the first time.
“Because I didn't want to frighten you in front of three hundred people.”
“You had no problem ruining my fiancé's career.”
“Preston Whitfield's firm was retained by my companies. He used confidential client information to threaten a witness last month. The auction gave me a reason to end the relationship publicly.”
“What witness?”
Gideon did not answer.
Camille's stomach tightened.
“You're still hiding things.”
“Yes.”
“At least you're honest about that.”
She turned toward the door.
Gideon spoke before she reached it.
“Your father may have left you more than a photograph. If you find the ledger, the people who took him will know.”
Camille stopped.
“You said he disappeared.”
“I said his car was found near the river. I never said I believed he was dead.”
For the first time, Gideon's calm expression cracked.
He slid another photograph across the desk.
It showed a man entering a pharmacy in Mobile, Alabama, twelve years earlier. His face was older, thinner, but the shape of his shoulders was unmistakable.
Camille's breath caught.
“That's my father.”
Gideon nodded.
“The photograph was taken by a private investigator. The man vanished before we could reach him.”
Camille stared at the image.
Then she noticed the reflection in the pharmacy window.
A second man stood behind her father.
He was holding a newspaper.
And on the newspaper's folded corner was a symbol Camille had seen before: a small black anchor surrounded by three stars.
May you like
She had seen it stamped inside her father's leather case.
And she had seen it on the wax seal of the forged folio at the auction.
