DOMENICO
Numbers never lied. People did.
The blue light from the screen hit the side of my face, cold against my skin. Shadows stretched across the marble desk, long and sharp.
The air smelled like cigars and old ink, the kind of scent that never really leaves a place, no matter how many times you air it out.
Outside, the city was loud and restless, but in here, it was just me. Quiet. Still. The kind of stillness that makes you start thinking too much.
Too still.
The ledger stared back at me, pages of digits and decimals that twisted into something ugly the longer I looked. Three months of falsified reports. Three months of missing funds.
It wasn’t much, not compared to what passed through my accounts every week, but it was enough to insult me.
I set the glass of scotch aside, un
