“Route it to Damiano’s holding account,” I said.

“It requires a cleared counter-party ID,” Marco said. “Wait, some of these older accounts already have a linked counter-party.”

I leaned closer to the screen, my nose nearly touching the warm glass.

There was a list of historical transfers from eight years ago.

A series of massive deposits had funded Marcus’s first real estate development, the one that launched his career.

The depositor was listed as ‘Vesper Group’.

“Who is Vesper Group?” I asked.

Marco paused, his fingers freezing over the keys.

He looked up at me, then looked toward the door where Damiano had just gone out.

“That’s one of Mr. Ricci’s oldest shell companies,” Marco whispered.

My heart did a slow, heavy thud against my ribs.

“Damiano funded him?” I asked.

“I don’t know the details,” Marco said, his face pale. “I shouldn’t even know that name. Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“Just divert the Belgrade transfer,” I said, my voice suddenly cold.

The floor vibrated beneath our feet as something heavy exploded downstairs.