Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER BENEATH THE FLOOR
Darkness swallowed the warehouse.
Carlo shouted.
Vittorio cursed.
A g/u/nshot cracked somewhere to my right, but it struck metal far from me.
Then emergency lights flashed red.
Marco’s voice thundered from the loading dock.
“Security! Nobody move!”
Of course nobody listened.
Carlo ran.
Vittorio disappeared behind the machinery.
I headed for the stairs.
Not toward safety.
Toward the knocking.
“Lorenzo!” Marco shouted.
“Downstairs!”
Two guards joined me.
We reached a steel door secured with an industrial padlock.
One guard produced bolt cutters.
Three seconds later, the lock fell.
The basement smelled of damp concrete.
At the far end stood another barred door.
A man sat behind it.
Thin.
Bearded.
One wrist chained to a pipe.
He lifted his head.
For a moment I saw a stranger.
Then he smiled.
Crookedly.
Exactly as he had when we were boys.
“Little brother.”
My chest tightened so violently I couldn’t speak.
Gabriel laughed weakly.
“You got old.”
“So did you.”
“Liar.”
I crossed the room.
The guard broke the chain.
Gabriel tried to stand and nearly collapsed.
I caught him.
He felt frighteningly light.
“You’re real,” I whispered.
“So are you.”
For twelve years, I had carried anger toward a d/e/@/d man.
Now he was breathing against my shoulder.
Alive.
Broken.
But alive.
Then his hands grabbed my jacket.
“Lucia.”
“She’s safe.”
His eyes filled instantly.
“Elena?”
“Safe.”
His forehead dropped against mine.
“Thank God.”
Above us, another g/u/nshot echoed.
Gabriel stiffened.
“Vittorio?”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“You have to stop him.”
“First you’re leaving.”
“No.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I’ve been waiting twelve years to stop running.”
“You have a daughter.”
The words hit him harder than anything else.
He looked at me.
“A daughter.”
“Yes.”
His mouth trembled.
“I never saw her.”
“Then survive tonight.”
He nodded.
That was enough.
Marco appeared at the stairs.
“Carlo’s contained on the east side. Vittorio found the maintenance tunnel.”
Gabriel swore.
“He’ll use the south exit.”
“You know it?”
“I lived here for three years.”
I stared.
“Three years?”
“Later.”
He pointed toward a corridor.
“That passage connects to the boiler room.”
Marco radioed the team.
We moved.
Gabriel leaned on me but refused to stop.
Halfway down the corridor, he suddenly whispered, “Father isn’t the biggest problem.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“The ledger has a second section.”
“Carlo has it.”
“No.”
“What?”
Gabriel smiled weakly.
“The book he stole is incomplete.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I removed twelve pages years ago.”
“Where?”
His eyes met mine.
“With Elena.”
My shock must have shown.
“She doesn’t know,” he continued. “I hid them inside something she would never throw away.”
The rabbit.
I understood instantly.
“The memory card?”
“No.”
My heartbeat increased.
“What else is inside that rabbit?”
Gabriel almost smiled.
“Everything.”
Then the far door opened.
Vittorio stood there.
He had a g/u/n in one hand.
Marco raised his own.
Gabriel froze.
Father and son stared at one another for the first time in twelve years.
Vittorio’s expression contained no joy.
Only disappointment.
“You look terrible.”
Gabriel laughed.
“You look surprisingly alive.”
“You were always disrespectful.”
“You were always difficult to bury.”
For one insane second, they sounded almost normal.
Then Vittorio aimed at Gabriel.
I stepped between them.
My father’s eyebrows lifted.
“Move.”
“No.”
“He betrayed this family.”
“So did you.”
“Move.”
“No.”
Behind us, Marco’s security team closed in.
Vittorio realized the corridor was lost.
He smiled.
“Do you know why Gabriel really vanished?”
I said nothing.
“He didn’t run because of the ledger.”
Gabriel’s face went pale.
Vittorio continued.
“He ran because he discovered what happened to your mother.”
My body went cold.
Our mother had d/i/e/d when I was seventeen.
Officially, an aneurysm.
Sudden.
Natural.
Gabriel whispered, “Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“What did you discover?”
Vittorio smiled.
This time there was no warmth at all.
“Your mother planned to expose me.”
Silence.
“She had copied financial documents. She contacted prosecutors.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
I stared at my father.
“What happened?”
“She became ill.”
My stomach turned.
“From what?”
He said nothing.
Gabriel answered.
“P/o/ison.”
The word seemed to drain all oxygen from the corridor.
I looked at Vittorio.
“You p/o/isoned her?”
“No.”
Gabriel shouted, “You ordered Carlo to do it!”
Vittorio’s expression didn’t change.
That was worse than denial.
Marco stepped forward.
“Drop the we/@/pon.”
Vittorio looked at me.
“You see why sentiment is dangerous? Your mother loved principles more than family.”
I had spent years believing my father was ruthless.
Until that moment, I had never understood how empty he truly was.
“You’re wrong.”
“About what?”
“She loved us more than you ever did.”
His jaw tightened.
“And that is why you lost.”
Vittorio’s eyes flicked toward Marco.
Then toward the exit.
He knew it too.
The building was surrounded.
Carlo had betrayed him.
Gabriel was alive.
The ledger was incomplete.
His network had fractures everywhere.
For the first time in my life, my father looked old.
Then another voice echoed from the stairs.
“Put it down, Vittorio.”
Carlo appeared.
His g/u/n was gone.
Two guards escorted him.
Vittorio stared.
“You.”
Carlo smiled bitterly.
“I’m tired.”
“Coward.”
“Yes.”
Carlo looked at me.
“I can prove what happened to your mother.”
Vittorio’s face changed.
The smallest reaction.
But real.
Carlo continued.
“I kept everything.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Insurance.”
Of course.
In my father’s world, everyone learned the same lesson.
Never trust loyalty.
Trust leverage.
Carlo nodded toward Vittorio.
“He taught me.”
My father lifted the g/u/n again.
Marco reacted instantly.
There was a sharp crack.
Vittorio’s we/@/pon fell from his hand.
He collapsed against the wall, clutching his shoulder.
Alive.
Conscious.
Furious.
Marco kicked the g/u/n away.
“No more.”
My father stared at me from the floor.
“You’d let strangers take me?”
I looked down at him.
“They’re not strangers.”
Police sirens grew louder outside.
Federal investigators had arrived.
Marco had contacted them before we entered the warehouse.
Vittorio laughed.
“You think institutions can protect you?”
“No.”
I looked at Gabriel.
“Elena can.”
My brother frowned.
I smiled faintly.
“Because apparently your four-year-old hid the real evidence in a stuffed rabbit.”
For the first time that night, Gabriel laughed.
May you like
A real laugh.
Then he started crying.
