Chapter 6 - The Unraveling of the Syndicate's Books
The next morning, the grand dining table of the Ellery manor was buried beneath mountains of forensic audit files.
Judith Calloway, having temporarily stepped down from her bench to act as court-appointed conservator, sat at the head of the table.
Her reading glasses sat on the tip of her sharp nose as she reviewed the forensic spreadsheets Rowan Hale had compiled.
Margot sat beside her, nursing a cup of black tea, Theo resting safely in an antique cradle rocked gently by Walter’s foot.
Dominic was not at the table; he remained confined to the guest wing under the watchful eyes of four union guards.
"The scope of this operation goes far beyond a simple corporate raid, Margot," Judith said, tapping a red pen against a ledger.
"Lena Pryce wasn't just working for Vincent Moretti; she was working with a rogue faction within the Department of Transportation."
"Look at these customs clearing numbers from the Calumet terminal over the past six months."
Margot leaned forward, her sharp mind instantly analyzing the columns of serial numbers and cargo classifications.
"These aren't automotive parts or industrial steel," Margot noted, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the discrepancies.
"These are military-grade defense components being routed through the Great Lakes from unauthorized international suppliers."
"Precisely," Rowan interjected, sliding an internal communications log across the polished wood.
"Lena was setting up a pipeline to move illicit defense hardware directly into the Midwest using Vale Capital's corporate credit."
"And the signature line she needed on the master customs declaration was yours, Margot."
"Why mine?" Margot asked, her pulse quickening with a cold, protective rage.
"Because your family has held the federal maritime license on those docks for three generations," Rowan explained.
"A transfer signed by Dominic would have triggered an automatic review by the Department of Homeland Security due to his syndicate ties."
"A transfer signed by an Ellery—a family with an unblemished fifty-year union record—passes through customs without a single inspection."
Margot stood up from the table, walking slowly toward the large windows that looked out over the frozen lawn.
The full, terrifying scope of the conspiracy was now laid bare before her eyes.
Lena Pryce hadn't just intended to steal Vale Capital’s money or bankrupt Dominic out of professional spite.
She had planned to use Margot’s labor—the exact hours when she would be physically helpless—to turn her into an international arms smuggler.
If the forged spousal transfer had succeeded, federal marshals would have stormed Northwestern Memorial within forty-eight hours.
Margot would have faced twenty years in a federal penitentiary for arms trafficking, while Lena and Moretti took the shipping lines.
And Dominic, blinded by his own frantic desire to hide his phantom secrets, would have been the man who held the door open for them.
The parlor door swung open, and Dominic stepped into the room, flanked by two stone-faced union men.
He had washed his face and changed into a clean shirt Walter had provided, but the dark circles under his eyes remained.
"You found the customs declarations, didn't you?" Dominic asked, his voice dead and resigned.
"Did you know about the defense hardware, Dominic?" Margot asked, turning to face him, her hazel eyes blazing with fury.
"Did you know she was using my father’s docks to smuggle military weapons while you were drinking scotch in her parlor?"
"No!" Dominic shouted, stepping forward with such sudden violence that the guards reached for their holsters.
"I swear to God on the life of our son, I knew nothing about weapons!"
"I thought she was moving untaxed Canadian timber to dodge the municipal import tariffs!"
"I thought it was standard corporate tax evasion to pad our margins before the quarterly board review!"
"You didn't ask questions because the money was too good, Dominic," Walter said, standing up from beside the cradle.
"You thought you were a business genius, but you were just a delivery boy for a woman who was playing you for a fool."
Margot walked over to the cradle, looking down at Theo, who was sleeping with his tiny hands tucked beneath his chin.
"We aren't going to wait for the federal marshals to figure this out, Rowan," Margot declared, her voice cold as ice.
"Judith, I want an emergency hearing convened at two o'clock this afternoon in your private chambers."
"Summon Vincent Moretti and his attorneys under an expedited federal grand jury subpoena."
"Tell them that if they don't produce Lena Pryce and the master customs files by three o'clock, I will open the Calumet containers myself."
"And I will invite the United States Attorney to watch us open every single crate on live television."
Dominic looked at his wife, seeing the ruthless, brilliant general she had always been beneath her warm, curvy exterior.
"Margot," he pleaded quietly.
"Moretti won't come to a hearing.
He will send his crews to the docks to burn the evidence before the feds can touch it."
Margot looked Dominic directly in the eyes, her voice devoid of even a trace of warmth.
"Then you had better get down to Pier Four and earn your redemption, Dominic."
May you like
"Because if a single crate burns before my name is cleared, you will never see your son again as long as you live."
***
