ASHES OF HER SILENCE

CHAPTER 5: THE INVESTIGATION

Elena had forty-eight hours before Dante would expect her first report.

One week to find a traitor. Seven days to prove she was Lena Cross, information broker, and not FBI Agent Elena Carter. Seven days to stay alive.

She stood in the hallway outside Dante's office, Marco beside her like a silent shadow. The message was clear: she had permission to investigate, but she wasn't trusted. Not yet.

"Where do I start?" Elena asked, keeping her tone professional.

Marco's expression didn't change. "The boss says you can talk to anyone in the organization. But you don't go anywhere alone, and you don't ask questions that'll get you killed."

"Helpful," Elena said dryly.

"I'm not here to be helpful," Marco replied. "I'm here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Fair enough.

Marco led her through the mansion, down a flight of stairs, and into what looked like a private office wing. The atmosphere changed immediately—less luxury, more business. Men in expensive suits moved through the hallways with purpose, their conversations stopping abruptly when they noticed Elena.

She could feel their eyes on her. Suspicious. Calculating. Wondering who she was and why Dante Moretti had given her access to his inner circle.

Marco stopped in front of a door and knocked twice before pushing it open.

The office inside was smaller than Dante's but no less intimidating. A man sat behind the desk—late forties, graying hair, sharp eyes that missed nothing. He looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from annoyance to curiosity.

"Marco," the man said. "Who's this?"

"Lena Cross," Marco said. "The boss wants her to ask some questions. Says you're supposed to cooperate."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that right?"

Elena stepped forward, extending her hand. "Mr...?"

"Russo," the man said, not taking her hand. "Vincent Russo. I handle operations for the family. And I don't appreciate strangers walking into my office asking questions."

Elena lowered her hand, unfazed. "I'm not here to step on anyone's toes, Mr. Russo. I'm here because Mr. Moretti thinks there's a problem in the organization. And he's asked me to help identify it."

Russo leaned back in his chair, studying her with the same cold assessment she'd seen in Dante's eyes. "You're the information broker. The one who saw Tony get clipped in the alley."

"That's right."

"And now you're playing detective." Russo's tone was skeptical. "What makes you think you can find something we haven't already found?"

"Because I'm not part of the family," Elena said simply. "I don't have loyalties. I don't have blind spots. And I don't have a reason to protect anyone except myself."

Russo considered this for a moment, then gestured to the chair across from his desk. "All right, Miss Cross. Ask your questions. But make them good ones. I don't have time to waste."

Elena sat, pulling out a small notebook—part of the Lena Cross persona. "The man who was killed last night. Tony. What was he working on before he died?"

"Collections," Russo said. "He handled debts, made sure people paid what they owed. Nothing unusual."

"Was he acting differently? Nervous? Secretive?"

Russo's jaw tightened. "Tony was solid. Loyal. He'd been with the family for fifteen years. If the boss thought he was talking to the feds, he was wrong."

Interesting. Russo was defensive. Protective of Tony's reputation.

"But he was killed anyway," Elena said carefully. "Which means someone thought he was a risk. Why?"

"That's what you're supposed to figure out," Russo said coldly.

Elena made a note, then looked up. "Who else had access to the same information Tony did? Who would have known what he knew?"

Russo's expression darkened. "You think someone set him up."

"I think someone wanted him dead," Elena said. "And if it wasn't because he was actually talking, then maybe it was because someone wanted the boss to think he was."

The room went silent.

Marco shifted slightly behind her, his hand moving closer to his weapon. Russo stared at Elena with an intensity that would have made most people flinch.

But Elena held his gaze.

"That's a dangerous theory, Miss Cross," Russo said quietly.

"It's just a theory," Elena replied. "But if I'm right, then your traitor isn't someone who's talking to the feds. It's someone who's manipulating the boss. Making him see threats that aren't there. Turning him against his own people."

Russo stood slowly, his hands flat on the desk. "If you're accusing someone in this family of playing games with the boss, you better have proof. Because if you're wrong, you won't live long enough to apologize."

"I'm not accusing anyone," Elena said, standing to meet his gaze. "I'm investigating. There's a difference."

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Russo sat back down, his expression unreadable. "Tony kept records. Everything he collected, everyone he dealt with. If you want to know what he was working on, check his files. Marco can show you where they are."

"Thank you," Elena said.

Russo's eyes followed her as she turned to leave. "Miss Cross?"

She looked back.

"Be careful," Russo said. "You're asking questions that could get you killed. And not everyone in this family is as patient as I am."

Elena nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Marco led her to a records room two floors down—a windowless space filled with filing cabinets and locked storage boxes. He gestured to a section marked with Tony's name.

"You've got two hours," Marco said. "Then we're done for the day."

Elena nodded and got to work.

The files were meticulous. Tony had been thorough—names, dates, amounts owed, payments received. Everything documented with precision. But as Elena flipped through the pages, something caught her attention.

Three weeks ago, Tony had made a note in the margin of one file: "Discrepancy—payment received but not logged. Check with VR."

VR. Vincent Russo.

Elena's pulse quickened. She kept reading.

Two weeks ago, another note: "VR says it was a mistake. But numbers don't match. Need to follow up."

And then, one week ago, the final entry: "Meeting with VR tonight. Need answers."

The next day, Tony was dead.

Elena closed the file slowly, her mind racing. Vincent Russo had been the last person Tony questioned. And now Tony was gone.

Coincidence? Or something more?

She glanced at Marco, who was standing by the door, watching her with that same unreadable expression.

"Find something?" he asked.

Elena slipped the file back into place. "Maybe," she said carefully. "I need to talk to Mr. Moretti."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "You've got something already?"

"I've got a lead," Elena said. "But I need to verify it before I say anything."

Marco studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Let's go."

As they walked back through the mansion, Elena's mind was already working through the implications. If Vincent Russo was involved—if he was the one manipulating Dante, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth—then she'd just made herself a target.

But she'd also found her first real lead.

And in this deadly game, that was worth the risk.