Chapter 4 - 4
For one terrible second, I thought Massimo had somehow risen from his wheelchair and followed me downstairs.
The man standing beside Adrian had the same dark hair, the same sharp jaw, and nearly identical eyes.
But he was standing.
And smiling.
“Hello, Emily,” he said.
My blood turned cold.
He knew my name.
Adrian looked down at Rosa with irritation.
“Someone should call an ambulance.”
I reached for my phone.
“Already doing it.”
The stranger laughed softly.
“Smart girl.”
I ignored him and gave the dispatcher the address, explained Rosa's injury, and requested police assistance.
Adrian's expression tightened when I mentioned the police.
“Was that necessary?”
“A woman is bleeding on the floor.”
“She's conscious.”
“And you're blocking the hallway instead of helping her.”
The stranger smiled wider.
“I like her.”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
He stepped forward.
“Gabriel Pascale.”
I stared at him.
“Massimo's brother?”
“Twin brother, technically.”
Adrian cleared his throat.
“Gabriel has been living overseas.”
“That's interesting,” I said. “Because nobody mentioned him.”
Gabriel crouched beside Rosa.
She recoiled.
The reaction was immediate and unmistakable.
“Hello, Rosa,” he said gently.
She began trembling.
“Please.”
His smile disappeared.
“Careful.”
I moved between them.
“Step away from my patient.”
Gabriel looked up at me.
Something cold passed through his eyes.
Then he stood.
“Of course.”
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
Luca appeared with two guards.
Behind them came Massimo, moving quickly in his wheelchair.
The moment he saw Gabriel, he stopped.
His face drained of color.
For the first time since meeting him, I saw genuine fear.
“Gabriel.”
His twin tilted his head.
“Miss me?”
Massimo's hands tightened around the wheels.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Adrian looked away.
Gabriel chuckled.
“Apparently, rumors of my death were exaggerated.”
Massimo's voice shook with anger.
“I saw your body.”
“No,” Gabriel said. “You saw what they wanted you to see.”
I looked between the brothers.
The resemblance was extraordinary.
But their expressions were completely different.
Massimo looked as though he'd seen a ghost.
Gabriel looked delighted.
“Why are you here?” Massimo demanded.
Gabriel glanced toward me.
“To meet your new nurse.”
Massimo moved his wheelchair forward.
“Stay away from her.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
“Protective already?”
“Get out of my house.”
“Our house, brother.”
“Not anymore.”
Adrian stepped between them.
“Enough. This isn't the time.”
Gabriel laughed.
“You're right. We should save the family reunion for dinner.”
He turned toward the front entrance.
Then paused beside me.
“Emily, ask Massimo what happened on the night of September seventeenth.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened that night?”
Gabriel smiled.
“That's the night our mother died.”
He walked away.
Adrian followed.
And Massimo said nothing.
The ambulance arrived twelve minutes later.
Rosa had a dislocated shoulder and a deep cut near her collarbone. The paramedics stabilized her and transported her to the hospital.
Before they took her away, she caught my hand.
“Don't go into the west wing alone,” she whispered.
I squeezed her fingers.
“I won't.”
She looked past me toward Massimo.
Then her face crumpled.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Massimo closed his eyes.
After the ambulance left, the police questioned everyone.
Adrian claimed Rosa had slipped during the power outage.
I told them she'd said someone pushed her.
Gabriel had already disappeared.
Luca claimed the security cameras had stopped recording when the electricity failed.
I didn't believe him.
Neither did the responding officer.
But without footage or a cooperative witness, there was little he could establish that night.
By three in the morning, the mansion was quiet again.
I found Massimo in the study.
He sat facing the fireplace, holding an old photograph.
A woman with dark hair smiled at the camera.
Beside her stood three boys.
Two looked identical.
The third was older.
“Your mother?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Her name was Isabella.”
I sat across from him.
“Gabriel said she died on September seventeenth.”
Massimo's expression hardened.
“He enjoys hurting people.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“How did she die?”
He stared into the fire.
“She fell down the stairs.”
I waited.
Finally, he added, “At least that's what the police concluded.”
“You don't believe it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He turned the photograph over.
On the back, written in faded blue ink, were four words.
Never trust the firstborn.
I stared at them.
“Your mother wrote that?”
“I found it in her jewelry box after the funeral.”
“Why didn't you show the police?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“They said it wasn't evidence of a crime.”
I looked toward the dark windows.
“Massimo, why did Gabriel say you saw his body?”
His expression changed.
“Three years ago, Gabriel's car went off a bridge.”
“Was he driving?”
“That's what the investigation concluded.”
“Did they identify him?”
“Through dental records.”
I frowned.
“And you believe the records were falsified?”
“I didn't. Not until tonight.”
I studied the photograph again.
Three brothers.
One dead mother.
One supposedly dead twin.
And a man in a wheelchair whose medical records didn't make sense.
“Why would Gabriel fake his death?”
Massimo gave a bitter smile.
“Gabriel was always good at disappearing when he owed someone money.”
“Money?”
“Millions.”
“What kind of debt?”
He hesitated.
“Not the kind you settle with a bank.”
I didn't ask for details.
I already knew enough about the Pascale reputation to understand.
Instead, I said, “I need to know whether I'm safe here.”
Massimo looked directly at me.
“No.”
The honesty startled me.
“Then I should leave.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
But before I reached the door, he spoke again.
“Emily.”
I stopped.
“There's something I haven't told you.”
I turned.
His eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn't identify.
“The day of my accident, someone called me from my mother's old phone.”
I frowned.
“Your mother had been dead for years.”
“I know.”
“What did the caller say?”
Massimo swallowed.
“She said Gabriel was alive.”
I felt a chill.
“Who said it?”
“I don't know. The voice was distorted.”
“And you drove out to meet her?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“The old family property outside Chicago.”
I stared at him.
“Was that where your SUV crashed?”
“Yes.”
“Massimo, you need to tell the police.”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“The recording disappeared from my phone while I was in the hospital.”
I looked down at the photograph in my hand.
Something about the handwriting bothered me.
The letters were familiar.
Especially the way the word trust had been written.
I had seen that handwriting before.
Not in the mansion.
At home.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the only photograph I carried of my late father.
On the back, he'd written a message years ago.
For my Emily. Never stop asking questions.
I placed the two photographs side by side.
The handwriting was nearly identical.
My mouth went dry.
Massimo leaned forward.
“What is it?”
I couldn't speak.
Because beneath the photograph of my father was a date.
September 17.
The same date Massimo's mother had died.
May you like
And suddenly, I remembered something my father had told me shortly before his own death.
“If anyone named Pascale ever comes looking for you, Emily, don't believe a word they say.”
