“Your name is Vance Miller,” I said, looking directly at the mercenary.

“You were promised forty percent of the Vescari shipping routes through the north docks.”

Vance did not answer, but his shoulders tensed under his tactical vest.

“Those routes don’t belong to my father to give,” I said.

“More importantly, he sold those exact same coordinates to the Morvillo family on Tuesday.”

I swiped my thumb across the screen, opening the encrypted transfer file Julian had just sent.

“Check your offshore account in the Cayman Islands,” I told Vance.

“The routing number is 044-nine-two-seven.”

“The transaction was flagged for fraud four hours ago because my father used a stolen Salvi routing key.”

Victor Salvi stepped forward into the dim light, his silver hair catching the glow of the headlights.

The old patriarch did not look angry; he looked intrigued.

“Is this true, Richard?” Victor asked, his voice soft and deadly.

My father’s face went pale under the dirt and sweat.

“She’s lying!” Richard yelled, his voice cracking. “She’s trying to save her own skin!”

I looked at Vance’s men, who were exchange uneasy glances.