Chapter 7: The Accountant’s Trap

The truth about Maya’s debt and Nico’s desperate attempt to shield us from it weighed heavily. It transformed my anger into a cold resolve. Gable was playing a much larger game than just framing me for $120,000. He was exploiting Nico’s loyalty and fear.

I had to find out his full plan. I knew Eli Gable kept a small, private office above “Mama Leone’s,” the local bakery on Smith Street, where he handled his more sensitive syndicate dealings.

The bakery was closed for the night, the aroma of cooling bread still clinging to the air. I picked the lock on the back door, slipping inside. The stairs creaked under my weight as I ascended to the second floor.

Gable’s office was meticulously organized, every file labeled, every pen aligned. He was a creature of order, which made his deception all the more chilling.

I began to search, focusing on recent files. Within minutes, I found a manila folder marked “Moretti Brownstone – Tax Lien.” My hands grew cold.

Inside were real estate transfer documents, prepared for filing with the city. They detailed a plan to declare the safehouse abandoned due to “failure to meet tax obligations and structural disrepair.”

Gable’s offshore shell corporation, “Emerald Holdings LLC,” was listed as the intended buyer. He planned to acquire the $2.5 million brownstone for “pennies on the dollar,” capitalizing on the chaos he had created between Nico and me. He was waiting for one of us to crack, for the other to flee, leaving the property vulnerable.

The scale of his avarice was breathtaking. He wasn’t just skimming. He wanted the entire legacy.

I pulled out a small USB drive from my pocket and quickly began copying the files. Every document, every forged statement, every transfer agreement. I needed undeniable proof.

My fingers flew across the keyboard. This was how I would fight him. Not with bullets, not with bloodshed, but with his own meticulous paper trail. I would expose him, not destroy us.

I finished copying the files, carefully returned everything to its place, and slipped out of the office as silently as I had entered. The cool night air felt like a balm on my face.

The confrontation with Gable was coming. And I would be ready.