Chapter 7 - The Account That Never Existed
For a long time, Dante could not move.
Michael stood ten feet away.
Alive.
Eight years of funerals, anger, guilt and unanswered questions collapsed into one impossible moment.
Dante crossed the room.
Then punched him.
Michael hit the wall.
Claire gasped.
Ellie screamed, “Uncle Dante!”
Dante grabbed his brother and pulled him into a crushing embrace.
Michael laughed once, painfully.
“Yeah. I deserved the first part.”
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You let me spend eight years thinking—”
His voice broke.
Michael’s smile disappeared.
“I know.”
Ellie stared.
“Is he really my dad?”
Michael knelt carefully.
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I’ve heard that.”
She hugged him.
Michael closed his eyes.
The explanation took hours.
Michael stayed hidden because Cross had access to federal databases, local police, private investigators and people inside the Vale organization.
Any attempt to contact Dante could expose Claire and Ellie.
Then Michael revealed the strangest part.
Cross did not simply want the ledger.
She wanted the account behind it.
“The account doesn’t exist,” Michael explained.
Dante frowned.
“Then why does she want it?”
“Because Victor thinks it does.”
Years earlier, Michael had discovered eighteen million dollars moving through construction shell companies.
He created false records suggesting the money had been diverted into a Cayman account.
The fake account made Victor believe someone had stolen from him.
The real money had gone to Cross.
Michael wanted Victor and Cross to turn on each other.
Then gunfire struck the cabin.
They escaped through an old storm tunnel to the lake.
At a closed marina, Marco and Thomas waited.
Thomas had a new message from Cross.
FIND THE ACCOUNT. SLOANE IS LOSING CONTROL.
Dante looked at Michael.
“For the first time in eight years, they’re turning on each other.”
An idea formed.
“We give them the account.”
Michael frowned.
“It doesn’t exist.”
“It does now.”
Dante turned to Marco.
“Create one.”
Marco blinked.
“You want me to create a fake offshore account holding eighteen million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not exactly a ten-minute project.”
“Make it convincing.”
Michael finally smiled.
“You leak it to both of them.”
Dante nodded.
“Different access instructions.”
Claire understood.
“And let them show us who they bring.”
May you like
Dante looked at Ellie asleep against Michael’s shoulder.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we stop running.”
