“Keep this with you always, Lena,” he had whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “No matter where you go, do not lose it.”

It was a lacquered Swiss music box with a brass winding key on the bottom.

It played a slow, haunting melody my mother used to sing to me before she died.

“The ledger,” I said suddenly, looking up at Roman. “It’s not in a bank.”

Roman stopped, his eyes locking onto mine with intense focus. “What do you mean?”

“My father gave me a music box before he disappeared,” I said, my heart beating faster. “He told me it was the only thing that mattered.”

“Where is it?” Roman asked, stepping closer to me.

“At my family’s old house on Elm Street,” I said. “I hid it in the floorboards of my old bedroom closet.”

Roman looked at Elias, his expression darkening.

“The syndicate is already moving on your father’s properties,” Roman said. “They will burn that house to the ground to find any trace of his records.”

“Then we have to get there before they do,” I said.