Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER AT MY TABLE
I invited Marco to dinner.
Sophia thought I had lost my mind.
Nathan used less polite words.
My security chief asked whether he should search Marco at the door.
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Boss.”
“If Marco realizes we suspect him, he runs.”
“And if he brings a gun?”
“He always brings a gun.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“It isn’t supposed to be.”
For the first time in twenty years, I rebuilt my estate security without telling my brother.
The guards stationed closest to Isabella were replaced by men who had worked for my father before Marco had any influence.
Phones were surrendered.
Cameras were checked.
Every exterior gate received a second team.
I hated admitting that my home needed protection from family.
At six-thirty, Isabella finished therapy.
Nathan had spent the afternoon explaining the new plan.
Intensive pediatric neuro-rehabilitation.
Electrical stimulation.
Pool therapy.
Assisted standing.
Strength rebuilding.
No miracles.
No guarantees.
No pretending.
I stood inside the therapy room watching Maya Collins, a pediatric physical therapist Nathan trusted, test Isabella’s right leg.
“Push against my hand.”
Isabella strained.
Nothing happened.
Her face fell.
“I moved it yesterday.”
“You moved your foot.”
“Same thing.”
“Nope.”
Maya smiled.
“Different muscles.”
Emma sat cross-legged nearby with a stuffed rabbit.
“Tell it to wake up.”
Maya looked at her.
“Who is running this session?”
Emma pointed to herself.
Maya laughed.
Isabella tried again.
A muscle flickered above her knee.
Maya’s expression changed.
“There.”
“What?”
“That contraction.”
“I did it?”
“You did.”
Isabella smiled so brightly I had to turn away.
Sophia noticed.
“You’re crying again.”
I wiped my face.
“I’m beginning to dislike your family.”
“We’ve noticed.”
Isabella called me.
“Papa!”
I went to her.
“Did you see?”
“Yes.”
“I’m getting better.”
I crouched.
“You’re getting stronger.”
“Same thing.”
Nathan interrupted.
“Not exactly.”
She glared at him.
He smiled.
I had never seen doctors make my daughter angry in such a normal way.
For three years, medical rooms had meant bad news.
Now they meant work.
Possibility.
Frustration.
Life.
At seven exactly, Marco arrived.
I watched his car from the upstairs window.
My brother stepped onto the driveway wearing a dark charcoal suit.
Silver lion signet on his right hand.
The sight of it made my stomach turn.
Thirty-eight years of memories followed him toward the house.
Marco defending me in school.
Marco taking a bullet through the shoulder during a dock war.
Marco holding Isabella the day she was born.
Marco kneeling beside Elena’s coffin.
How much of a person can be true and still become a lie?
I met him in the foyer.
“Brother.”
He hugged me.
I let him.
His hand touched my back.
The lion ring pressed against my jacket.
My fingers wanted his throat.
Instead, I smiled.
“Whiskey?”
“You know me.”
That was the problem.
We entered the dining room.
Sophia served.
Marco barely looked at her.
Then Emma wandered in wearing dinosaur pajamas.
Sophia froze.
“Emma.”
“I need the blue cup.”
“It’s upstairs.”
“No. Isabella has the blue cup.”
Marco looked down at her.
His expression changed.
Recognition?
Maybe.
“Who’s this?”
“My daughter,” Sophia said.
Marco smiled.
“What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Pretty name.”
She stared at his ring.
My body went cold.
“Lion.”
Marco looked at his hand.
“Yeah.”
“My friend knows that ring.”
Silence.
Sophia hurried forward.
“Emma, bedtime.”
“Isabella said—”
“Now.”
Emma frowned.
Then looked at me.
“Tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
She pointed at Marco.
“Isabella’s foot woke up.”
Everything stopped.
Marco’s face went empty.
“What?”
I leaned back.
“Isabella moved her foot.”
He looked at me.
Then laughed.
Too fast.
“That’s great.”
“Yes.”
“Spasm?”
“No.”
His smile weakened.
“Doctors say strange things happen with damaged nerves.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You sound informed.”
He took a drink.
“I spent three years beside you at hospitals.”
True.
Too true.
“Caruso ever explain it?”
His glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“Explain what?”
“Incomplete spinal injuries.”
Marco placed the glass down.
“I don’t remember.”
“I do.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why are we talking about Caruso?”
I cut into my steak.
“No reason.”
Marco watched me for several seconds.
Then smiled.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The quiet thing before you accuse someone.”
“Should I accuse someone?”
“I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Because dinner will get cold.”
He laughed.
I didn’t.
We ate.
Then I mentioned San Aurelio Imports.
His knife paused.
“You remember them?”
“No.”
“Strange.”
“Why?”
“Elena did.”
His face changed.
This time he couldn’t hide it.
“What are you talking about?”
“She kept foundation records.”
Marco leaned back.
“Elena kept too many records.”
The sentence hung between us.
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
He realized too late.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“She liked paperwork.”
“She found missing money.”
“I’m sure half the accountants in Manhattan find missing money.”
“At Pier Nine.”
Marco’s face hardened.
“Matteo.”
“Yes?”
“What is this?”
I set down my fork.
“I found something of Elena’s.”
There.
The mask dropped.
Not completely.
Enough.
“What?”
I removed the silver crescent.
Marco stared.
The color drained from his face.
He whispered, “Where did you get that?”
I almost smiled.
“You recognize it.”
“Elena wore jewelry.”
“No.”
I opened the charm.
Showed the photograph.
Marco rose.
The chair scraped backward.
Sophia froze near the doorway.
I turned the photograph.
HE WAS THE ONE WHO BETRAYED US.
Marco stared.
Then laughed.
“That proves nothing.”
“I didn’t say what it proved.”
“She hated me.”
“No.”
“She thought I was stealing.”
“Were you?”
He looked at me.
Silence.
“That’s not the question you should be asking.”
My pulse changed.
“What question?”
He picked up his wine.
“Why was Elena collecting evidence without telling you?”
“Because she knew I would kill you.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Maybe she knew you better than I did.”
“Did you order the ambush?”
His hand tightened.
“No.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you pay Caruso?”
His face froze.
There.
Finally.
I stood.
“What did you do to my daughter?”
“Nothing.”
“Her diagnosis was falsified.”
“What?”
“Caruso lied.”
Marco shook his head.
“You’re grieving backward.”
I stepped closer.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did Elena write his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did his nurse see your ring?”
“I visited Isabella.”
“Before or after he changed the diagnosis?”
Marco’s jaw clenched.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I leaned toward him.
“Then explain it.”
He exploded.
“You were destroying everything!”
Silence.
The words echoed through the dining room.
Marco breathed hard.
I stared.
“What?”
His face changed.
He realized.
Too late.
I whispered, “Everything?”
He stepped back.
“The organization.”
“How?”
“You stopped listening.”
“To you?”
“To everybody.”
He pointed toward the ceiling.
“Elena wanted you out of half our businesses. She wanted the ports clean. She wanted politicians gone. She wanted Isabella growing up in some sanitized version of our family.”
“Good.”
His eyes widened.
“There. That.”
“What?”
“You think love made you better.”
“It did.”
“It made you weak.”
Elena’s journal.
Exact words.
I moved before I could stop myself.
My hand closed around Marco’s throat.
I slammed him against the wall.
Sophia shouted, “Matteo!”
Marco laughed while choking.
“You see?”
I tightened my grip.
“This is who you are.”
Elena’s voice flashed through memory.
If something happens to me, do not become worse because of it.
I released him.
Marco coughed.
Then a gunshot shattered the dining-room window.
Glass exploded across the table.
I threw Sophia to the floor.
Another shot.
Marco dove behind a cabinet.
My guards stormed in.
“East garden!”
“Shooter!”
A third bullet hit the wall.
Then silence.
I looked at Marco.
He looked genuinely terrified.
“Your men?” I asked.
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Rico.”
The name came instantly.
“What?”
Marco crawled toward me.
“If you found the charm, Rico knows.”
“How?”
“He watched Rosa.”
Sophia’s face drained.
“What?”
Marco looked at her.
“You’re Rosa’s daughter.”
She stared.
“You knew?”
“I knew somebody from the family took the job.”
I grabbed him.
“Why was Rico watching Rosa?”
“Because Elena gave her copies.”
I pulled him closer.
“How do you know?”
“Because Elena told me.”
My blood froze.
“When?”
“The day before the crash.”
Outside, engines roared.
Security shouted over radios.
Marco looked toward the broken window.
“If Rico is shooting at us, he thinks I’m going to talk.”
“Are you?”
His eyes met mine.
Then he whispered the words that changed everything.
“The ambush was mine.”
Sophia gasped.
I stopped breathing.
Marco continued.
“But Elena wasn’t supposed to be in the car.”
I stared at my brother.
My hands went numb.
He had confessed.
Then another gunshot sounded upstairs.
Isabella screamed.
May you like
I forgot Marco existed.
I ran.
