Chapter 2 - THE NAME THAT SHOULD HAVE BELONGED TO A DEAD MAN
“Gabriel Vale.”
The girl’s voice was almost lost beneath the wind.
I stopped breathing.
Bear barked at the black sedan turning into the alley, but the sound seemed distant now.
Gabriel.
My younger brother.
Dead seventeen years.
Buried without a body because the river had swallowed whatever remained after the warehouse explosion.
I had stood beside an empty coffin while our mother screamed his name.
I had worn the silver pendant he gave me beneath my shirt for a month before guilt became too heavy, then placed its twin inside the coffin.
Except apparently I had not.
Because the pendant lying in the snow belonged to Gabriel.
I knew the scratches across the back.
I had made one myself when we were teenagers.
A knife slipped while I tried engraving our initials.
D.V. on mine.
G.V. on his.
The sedan stopped.
Two doors opened.
Men stepped out.
The girl’s fingers dug into my coat.
“They’re Daddy’s bad men.”
That sentence returned me to the present.
I lifted her higher against my chest.
“Bear.”
The dog growled beside me.
One of the men shouted.
“Put the girl down.”
I almost laughed.
Poor choice of words.
My driver, Luca Santoro, was already outside my car.
He opened the rear door.
“Boss.”
I carried the girl toward him.
The two strangers began moving faster.
One reached inside his coat.
Luca’s hand disappeared beneath his jacket.
I said:
“No shooting unless they give you no choice.”
He glanced at me.
Ten years earlier, I would not have needed to say that.
Men approaching me in an alley with hands inside coats would have been considered choices already made.
But an eight-year-old girl was pressed against my chest.
She had seen enough violence.
One stranger pulled a pistol.
Luca drew.
The gunman hesitated.
That hesitation saved everyone from something ugly.
Behind us, another Vale vehicle appeared at the entrance to the block.
My security men exited.
The strangers retreated.
They did not fire.
They ran.
Their sedan reversed hard enough to strike a dumpster, then disappeared into the snow.
Bear chased three steps before his injured paw gave out.
He yelped.
The girl twisted in my arms.
“Bear!”
“I’ve got him.”
Luca lifted the dog.
Bear objected.
Luca swore.
“I know you’re loyal.”
he muttered.
“Try loyalty without teeth.”
We drove.
Not to my mansion.
I did not know who had found the girl.
And if Gabriel was alive, I did not know who inside my own organization had known.
That made my house dangerous.
I chose an old townhouse in Brooklyn owned through a legitimate property company no one connected publicly to me.
The girl sat beside me under a wool blanket.
Bear lay across her feet.
Her name was Nora.
Nora Vale.
Eight years old.
Gabriel’s daughter.
My niece.
The word felt impossible.
“How old is your father?”
I asked.
“Forty-two.”
Gabriel would be forty-two.
“How do I know he is your father?”
She frowned.
“You don’t.”
Smart child.
“What does he look like?”
“Tall.”
“Not useful.”
“Gray here.”
She touched her temples.
“Brown eyes.”
“Scar on his chin.”
My chest tightened.
Gabriel had fallen from our grandmother’s roof at thirteen.
Eight stitches.
Permanent scar.
“What did he call your grandmother?”
Nora looked confused.
“Which one?”
“My mother.”
“Nonna Lucia.”
Correct.
“What song did she sing when he couldn’t sleep?”
Nora stared.
Then whispered in terrible Italian:
“Dormi, dormi, piccolo cuore.”
My mother’s lullaby.
Only family knew it.
I looked away.
For seventeen years, I had hated myself for Gabriel’s death.
Our last argument had been about me.
My choices.
The organization.
He said I was turning into our father.
I hit him.
He left bleeding from the mouth.
Three days later, the warehouse exploded.
No body.
A wedding ring.
A chain.
A dental fragment authorities claimed matched.
Enough for everyone desperate to close the book.
“Where is he?”
I asked.
Nora pressed one hand against her chest.
The secret.
“What did he give you?”
She became frightened again.
“My daddy said only you.”
“I am me.”
“He said you might be different.”
That hurt.
“Different how?”
“He said if you still wear black ties, don’t trust you.”
I stared at my tie.
Black.
Nora’s eyes widened.
I almost laughed for the first time that night.
“Your father has always been irritating.”
“He said that too.”
Of course.
We reached the townhouse.
My private physician was summoned for Nora.
A veterinarian for Bear.
No household staff.
No one tied to my main security structure except Luca.
Nora had mild hypothermia, dehydration, bruises on one arm, and a cut across her shoulder.
No major injuries.
Bear was worse.
Starvation.
Infected paw.
Old wound near his ribs.
The veterinarian said:
“He needs food slowly.”
Nora sat beside him.
“He always gives me his food.”
That explained everything.
“How long were you outside?”
“Two nights.”
My jaw tightened.
“Where were you before?”
“With Daddy.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“He said don’t tell anyone until you see Uncle Dominic.”
The word Uncle hit strangely.
“He told you about me?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That you were scary.”
I nodded.
“Accurate.”
“And that you used to build forts.”
I stared.
Gabriel and I had built forts from shipping crates behind our father’s old warehouse.
I had forgotten.
Nora continued:
“He said when you were little, you cried when your turtle died.”
Luca coughed to hide a laugh.
I looked at him.
“Leave.”
“Yes, Boss.”
He was still smiling when he left.
Nora watched me.
“You cried?”
“No.”
“Daddy said.”
“Your father lies.”
“He said you say that when embarrassed.”
I closed my eyes.
Gabriel had apparently spent eight years raising a child specifically equipped to annoy me.
Fair revenge.
Then Nora’s expression changed.
She looked toward the door.
“Lock it.”
“It is locked.”
“More.”
I noticed her shaking.
“Why?”
“The men come at night.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know names.”
“What happened to your house?”
She swallowed.
“Daddy came home fast.”
“He said pack nothing.”
“He put Bear in truck.”
“We drove.”
“Then another car followed.”
Her voice became smaller.
“We went to a house with green windows.”
“Daddy hid me under floor.”
“Like before?”
She nodded.
My stomach tightened.
“He has hidden you before?”
“Sometimes.”
“How many?”
She shrugged.
“Three.”
“What happened that night?”
“Men broke windows.”
“Daddy yelled.”
“Fire came.”
“He opened floor.”
“Gave me this.”
Her hand went beneath her coat.
Slowly, she pulled out a flat black pouch taped against her undershirt.
Not jewelry.
Not money.
She placed it in my palm.
Inside was a small encrypted drive and a folded paper sealed in plastic.
My name was written across it.
Dominic.
Gabriel’s handwriting.
I knew immediately.
My hands became cold.
“Did your father say what is on this?”
Nora nodded.
“He said it’s the reason everybody thinks he died.”
My pulse changed.
“What else?”
She looked directly at me.
“He said if bad men get it, they kill him.”
A pause.
“If police get it first, they kill you.”
The room became silent.
I opened the paper.
Only six lines.
Dom,
If Nora reached you, I failed to keep her out of this.
Do not give the drive to Angelo Ferraro.
I stopped.
Angelo.
My consigliere.
The man who had stood beside me for eighteen years.
The man who had organized Gabriel’s funeral.
The man who had helped me build everything after my brother “died.”
I continued reading.
Do not trust the death certificate.
Do not trust the old warehouse report.
Then the final line.
And whatever you do, do not open the drive on a network you own. Half your empire belongs to the men who buried me alive.
My breathing slowed.
Nora watched.
“Is Daddy dead?”
I looked at her.
I could have lied.
Children are often lied to because adults confuse uncertainty with cruelty.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes filled.
“But we’re going to find out.”
“Promise?”
I thought carefully.
“I promise we will look until there is nothing left to look at.”
She nodded.
Accepting.
Then Bear raised his head.
A low growl.
Someone was outside the townhouse.
Luca appeared in the hallway.
“Boss.”
“What?”
His face was hard.
“Three vehicles.”
“Vale plates?”
“No.”
“Angelo?”
Luca hesitated.
“One driver is his nephew.”
My blood became ice.
The message from Gabriel had been in my hands less than five minutes.
Angelo had found us.
May you like
Which meant either he had been following Nora already—
or someone I trusted had told him exactly where I brought her.
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