Chapter 7 Financial Investigation
After Felicia finished bathing, she stepped into my bedroom with her hair still damp and clinging to her shoulders. She looked around with this bright, almost childlike excitement that made me smile despite myself. I already knew what she wanted, so I went to my wardrobe and handed her a set of my clothes. The moment the fabric touched her hands, her eyes lit up like she’d just received a rare treasure. She held the outfit against herself and grinned before quickly slipping into the bathroom to change. When she came back out, swimming slightly in my oversized shirt, she twirled once and asked if she looked good. I couldn’t help but chuckle and nod.
We spent the next hours chatting about nothing and everything. Felicia always had this way of talking like she’d been storing stories in her pockets, waiting for the right moment to pour them out. We played chess, though her definition of playing chess was mostly distracting me with random questions while I tried to concentrate. She still lost, but she claimed it was only because she was tired from the bath. I let her believe that.
While we were in the middle of our game, Eric knocked before entering, carrying two plastic takeaway bags. “I bought food,” he announced. “I got extra, since I figured you two would be together.”
Felicia immediately perked up at the smell. I thanked him, and we opened the containers: rice, chicken, and some snacks. We all ate together, though Eric stood by the doorway as usual.
Those hours passed comfortably. Felicia laughed at every small joke, asked me questions she already knew the answers to, leaned against me like she used to when she was younger. For a moment, I forgot about responsibilities. I forgot about the clan. I forgot about everything except the softness of those simple moments.
But two hours later, I knew she needed to go back. As much as I wanted her to stay longer, it wasn’t okay to keep her here for too long.
“Go home,” I told her softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You’ve played enough for today.”
She pouted, but she nodded. She hugged me tightly before heading out, promising to visit again soon. When the door finally closed behind her, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The warmth she carried with her faded, replaced with the cold weight of responsibility pressing back onto my shoulders.
“Eric,” I called.
He entered immediately. “Yes, boss?”
“Did you get the number I told you to get?”
His eyes sharpened with that professional glint of his, and he nodded. “I did. Here.” He walked over, took my phone from the table, and pressed the number in himself, then handed it to me.
The line rang only once before an old man’s voice answered, rough and slightly irritated. “Who is this?”
I exhaled slowly and spoke clearly. “My name is—”
But before I could finish, he cut in sharply, “I don’t know you. State what you want.”
“I am the daughter of Adam Blade.”
Complete silence fell on the other end, heavy and cold. When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed, gone were the irritations, replaced with something firmer. “Repeat your name.”
I did.
A long breath came through the speaker, the kind of sigh that held buried memories. “It has been years since I heard that name,” he murmured. “What do you want?”
“I need your help,” I said. “I need you to audit our finances for this year.”
Another sigh, heavier this time. “After your father died, I stopped working for your clan. I cut ties with everything.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling that tightness in my chest. “But I’m begging you. Please. It’s urgent. It’s important. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t.”
There was a pause. A long one. I could almost imagine him rubbing his forehead or pacing in his office or whatever old men like him do when they’re conflicted.
Finally, he spoke. “I owe your father a big one. A very big one…” His tone softened. “Because of that, I’ll come. Give me two hours.”
Relief washed through me so fast my eyes stung slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Conor.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he said before ending the call.
I lowered the phone and let out a deep breath.
Eric, who had been standing nearby the whole time, raised a brow. “Boss… why him specifically?”
“Because,” I said, rubbing my temple, “he’s experienced in auditing Mafia finances. Not just any finances—Mafia finances. And he’s truthful. He doesn’t bend for money, threats, or pressure. He’s worked with my father for decades. He knows our system better than anyone else alive.”
Eric nodded slowly. “I see.”
I put in my earpiece and lay back on the couch. Music filled my ears, and I let myself drift mentally while waiting for the man I hadn’t seen since childhood. Conor… the one man my father trusted with numbers, secrets, and everything that could bring an empire down.
Hours passed before Eric came again, knocking lightly.
“Boss,” he said. “Mr. Conor is here.”
I stood immediately and followed him through the hallways to the meeting room, the large office-like section we used for official matters. The moment I entered, I saw him.
Conor looked exactly as I remembered him: a grey-haired man in his late sixties, wearing a neat black tuxedo suit despite the weather, a trench coat folded over his left arm, and a walking stick in his right hand. He had this air around him that was calm, sharp, and experienced. The kind of man you immediately knew not to underestimate.
I bowed slightly. “Welcome, Mr. Conor.”
He studied me for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve grown,” he said. “Last time I saw you, you could barely reach my shoulder. Now look at you.” He nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you’re finally acting like a real leader.”
“I’m trying,” I replied. “And that’s why I appreciate your support.”
He chuckled, a quiet, rough sound. “Good. Then let’s get started. Order them to bring all the financial documents from the time your father died until now.”
I turned to Eric. “Go. Bring everything.”
He left immediately and returned not long after with a single laptop. Conor raised a brow at the lack of papers.
“We don’t keep documentation on paper,” I explained. “Makes it easier to cover our tracks from the government.”
“Hmph. Your father did the same but he usually prints everything out whenever I come around.” He took the laptop, powered it on, then placed his own beside it. His fingers moved swiftly across both keyboards, opening files, cross-checking data, and typing commands.
And I watched him work, this old man who once managed an underground empire’s hidden wealth, now here again, because of my father, because of me, diving back into the world he had tried to leave behind.