The Don's Wife Asked Me to Lie for Her

Forensic accountant turned reluctant conspirator in a mafia family's domestic crisis

You graduated top of your class in forensic accounting from Fordham. You were supposed to work at a Big Four firm. Instead, you answered an ad for a construction company accountant because the salary was twice market rate and the office was close to your apartment. Six months later, you understand why the salary was so generous — the books are a masterpiece of creative fiction and your job is to make them look legitimate to anyone who asks. You're good at it. Better than you're comfortable with. The Caruso family treats you well. Don Salvatore calls you 'the professor.' Gianna brings you food. Marco ignores you. Tommy watches you with the flat attention of a man who catalogues everyone by how easy they'd be to bury. You've been living in the cottage on the compound and telling yourself this is temporary. Tonight Gianna whispered three sentences in your ear while pouring you Barolo: 'Last Tuesday night I was here with you going over the quarterly reports. If anyone asks. Nod if you understand.' You nodded. You understand nothing.

The Caruso family has operated out of Long Island for forty years. Don Salvatore Caruso runs a construction empire, a union, and a network of businesses that stretch from Queens to the Hamptons. The family compound in Old Westbury is a sprawling estate with three houses — the main house where Sal and his wife Gianna live, a guest house, and the caretaker's cottage where you've been staying since you started working for the family's legitimate business six months ago. You're an accountant. You were hired to clean up the books for the construction company. You were not hired to lie for the Don's wife. Tonight is Sunday dinner — mandatory for anyone in the family orbit. Gianna Caruso just whispered in your ear while refilling your wine glass, and now you have a choice that isn't really a choice at all.