Chapter 3 - THE DRAWING
The air vanished from my lungs.
Luke helped orchestrate the hit on his own brother? The same hit that left Gabriel using a cane, the same sacrifice that the family supposedly “rewarded” with my hand in marriage?
Gabriel didn’t shout. He didn’t pull a weapon. He just stood completely still, staring at his younger brother. The wind picked up, rustling the trees lining the estate, but neither of them moved.
“Is it true?” Gabriel asked. His voice was entirely empty of emotion. That emptiness was worse than rage.
Luke took a step back. “He’s lying. The old man is trying to save his own skin.”
“Then you won’t mind if I read the drive,” Gabriel replied. He closed his fist around the small piece of plastic. He looked at his men. “Take Luke to the basement. Lock the door. Do not let him speak to anyone.”
“Gabriel, you can’t do this!” Luke shouted as two massive guards grabbed his arms. “I’m your brother!”
“You were my brother,” Gabriel corrected quietly. He turned his back as Luke was dragged away, kicking and cursing toward the house.
I knelt there on the gravel, my hands gripping my father’s trembling shoulders. The man who had raised me, who had supposedly sold me, was sobbing.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” he wept. “I’m so sorry.”
“We need to get him inside,” I said, looking up at Gabriel. “He needs a doctor.”
Gabriel nodded to another guard, who gently helped my father to his feet and led him toward the guest wing.
Gabriel turned to me. The coldness in his eyes had melted, leaving something tired and profoundly heavy. “Get your coat. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Where?”
“The rehabilitation center,” he said, pulling out his phone. “If Luke and Callahan are working together, and your father just blew their cover, your brother isn’t safe.”
My heart stalled. Leo.
Ten minutes later, we were in the back of Gabriel’s armored SUV, speeding toward the city. The leather seats were pristine, the tinted windows shielding us from the morning sun. Gabriel sat beside me, his cane resting between his knees, staring blankly at the black partition separating us from the driver.
“Gabriel,” I started, my voice shaking. “If Luke helped Callahan… why would he arrange for you to marry me? Why not just marry me himself and take the land?”
Gabriel didn’t look at me. “Because my father’s will dictates that the eldest son controls all family trusts and business operations. Luke couldn't authorize the transfer of the land into the Moretti holdings without my signature. By making you my wife, your assets become family assets. But I have to sign off on them.”
“He needed you to legitimize the theft,” I realized.
“Yes.”
“But the bullets…” I swallowed hard. “You took three bullets for him.”
Gabriel finally turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto mine. “I thought I was protecting him from a rival family. I didn’t know I was stepping in front of bullets he paid for.”
The grief in his voice was buried so deep it almost wasn't there. But I heard it.
We arrived at the rehab center, a high-end facility tucked into the Chicago suburbs. I practically sprinted through the automatic doors, Gabriel keeping pace beside me despite his limp.
We reached Leo’s room on the third floor. I pushed the door open.
Leo was sitting up in bed, a sketchpad resting on his knees. He was twelve, pale and thin, a halo brace secured around his head and shoulders. When he saw me, his eyes lit up.
“Claire!”
I rushed to the bed and threw my arms gently around him, careful not to jostle the brace. “Hey, buddy. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I pulled back. Leo looked past me, his eyes landing on Gabriel.
“Who’s that?” Leo asked.
“This is Gabriel,” I said softly.
Gabriel gave a small, respectful nod. “Hello, Leo.”
Leo squinted at him, then looked down at his sketchpad. He flipped a page back. “You look like the man the other guy drew.”
I frowned. “What other guy?”
Leo pulled a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to me. “A nice man came to visit me yesterday while Mom and Dad were getting coffee. He said he was a friend of Luke’s. He asked a lot of questions about the woods behind Grandpa’s old house. Then he drew this for me.”
I took the drawing. It was a crude, hastily sketched map of my grandfather’s property. An X was marked near the old creek bed.
But it wasn't the map that made the blood drain from my face.
In the corner of the paper, the man had doodled a small emblem. A circle with a jagged line cutting through it, surrounded by three stars.
I handed the paper to Gabriel.
Gabriel stared at the drawing. His grip on his cane tightened until his knuckles turned bone-white.
“Do you know this man, Gabriel?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small, metallic object. He held it out in his palm.
May you like
It was a lapel pin. It perfectly matched the emblem on the drawing.
“I pulled this off the man who shot me five years ago,” Gabriel said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. “Callahan didn’t send a stranger to visit your brother, Claire. He sent the man who put me in a hospital bed.”
