Chapter Three: The Ledger Trap

The ferry sliced through the Tyrrhenian Sea under a moonless sky, its engines humming like a warning. Amaro stood at the bow, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of Sardinia rising in the distance. The island looked different now—less like a sanctuary, more like a battlefield.

Lucia joined him, her coat pulled tight against the wind.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“No,” Amaro replied. “But we don’t have a choice.”

They had left Florence under cover of night, with Bianca’s help and forged documents. Their mission was simple: infiltrate the Moretti estate, locate the hidden ledgers, and expose Don Salvatore’s plan to destroy the De Luca family.

But nothing about this was simple.

Lucia’s heart pounded as the ferry docked in Olbia. She hadn’t set foot on Sardinian soil since their escape. Every corner felt like a memory. Every shadow, a threat.

They took a rented car and drove inland, avoiding main roads. Amaro had memorized the estate’s layout years ago. He knew the blind spots, the weak gates, the servants who could be bribed.

But he hadn’t counted on Falco.

—

At the Moretti estate, Don Salvatore sat in his study, sipping espresso and reviewing a map of Naples. His plan was nearly complete. The De Luca family would fall within weeks. Their allies were being turned. Their secrets, exposed.

He smiled.

Then the door creaked open.

Falco entered, his expression unreadable.

“They’re back,” he said.

Salvatore raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

“They arrived in Olbia two hours ago. Took a car. Headed this way.”

Salvatore leaned back. “Let them come.”

Falco hesitated. “You’re not worried?”

Salvatore chuckled. “They think they’re clever. But they’re walking into a trap.”

Falco nodded. “And the ledgers?”

“In the vault. Beneath the chapel.”

Falco’s eyes narrowed. “Should I move them?”

“No,” Salvatore said. “Let them find them. Let them think they’ve won.”

He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the moonlit hills.

“Then we take everything.”

—

Amaro and Lucia parked the car a mile from the estate, hidden among olive trees. They moved on foot, dressed in black, their faces covered.

Lucia led the way. She knew the servants’ schedules, the patrol routes, the blind spots in the security cameras.

They slipped through the side gate and crossed the garden, avoiding the motion sensors. The chapel loomed ahead, its stone walls ancient and silent.

Inside, the air was cold and damp. Candles flickered on the altar. Lucia knelt and pressed a hidden panel beneath the pew. A click echoed through the chamber.

A trapdoor opened.

Amaro descended first, flashlight in hand. The vault was narrow, carved into the rock. At the end stood a steel cabinet, locked with a biometric scanner.

Lucia stepped forward and placed her thumb on the pad.

The cabinet opened.

Inside were three leather-bound ledgers, each marked with the Moretti crest.

Amaro opened one and scanned the pages.

“Bank transfers. Bribes. Names. Dates. This is it.”

Lucia opened another. “Look—Falco’s name. He’s been feeding my father intel for years.”

Amaro’s pulse quickened. “We need to get this to Bianca. She’ll know how to leak it.”

Suddenly, the trapdoor slammed shut above them.

Lucia gasped. “No…”

Amaro ran to the ladder and climbed. The door wouldn’t budge.

They were locked in.

—

Above ground, Falco stood in the chapel, smiling.

“They took the bait,” he said into his radio.

Don Salvatore’s voice crackled back. “Good. Seal the vault. No one opens it until I say.”

Falco turned to the guards. “Prepare the plane. We leave for Naples at dawn.”

—

In the vault, Amaro paced like a caged animal.

“They knew we were coming,” he said.

Lucia sat on the floor, clutching the ledgers. “What do we do?”

Amaro examined the walls. “There has to be another way out.”

He found a vent near the ceiling—small, but wide enough to crawl through.

“I’ll go first,” he said.

Lucia nodded. “Be careful.”

Amaro squeezed into the vent, dragging himself forward. The tunnel was tight, the air stale. After ten minutes, he reached a grate and kicked it open.

He emerged in the wine cellar.

Lucia followed, clutching the ledgers.

They crept through the cellar and into the kitchen, where a lone servant was washing dishes.

Amaro pressed a finger to his lips. “Help us, and you’ll be rewarded.”

The servant nodded, eyes wide with fear.

He led them to the garage and handed them keys to a delivery van.

“Go,” he whispered. “Before they find you.”

Amaro and Lucia sped away, headlights off, hearts racing.

—

At Bianca’s villa, the ledgers were scanned, copied, and encrypted.

Bianca made calls to journalists, prosecutors, and allies in Naples.

Within hours, the files were circulating.

Don Salvatore’s empire began to crack.

But the war was far from over.

—

That night, Amaro sat on the terrace, watching the stars.

Lucia joined him, her face tired but radiant.

“We did it,” she said.

“For now,” Amaro replied. “But he’ll come for us.”

Lucia took his hand. “Then let him. We’re ready.”

But in the darkness beyond the villa walls, a car idled.

Inside, Falco watched through binoculars.

And he wasn’t alone.