Chapter 8 - The Dead Brother
Dominic did not speak for the entire drive to the hospital.
Marcus survived surgery.
Barely.
I sat beside Dominic in a private waiting room while rain crawled down the windows.
“Could Matteo really be alive?”
“No.”
It sounded like something he needed to believe.
Anthony entered two hours later.
His face answered before his mouth did.
“We found him.”
Dominic stood.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
The room changed.
Anthony placed photographs on the table.
A man leaving a farmhouse.
Older.
Bearded.
But unmistakably related to Dominic.
Dominic touched the photograph.
For a second, he was no mafia boss.
No billionaire.
No feared executive.
Just a man looking at the brother he had mourned for nine years.
“How?”
“The body in the car was misidentified through dental records.”
“Who signed the identification?”
Anthony hesitated.
“Salvatore.”
Dominic’s father had faked Matteo’s death.
Why became clear that afternoon.
Matteo had discovered the same thing my father had.
Salvatore was preparing for war with the Vitellis while secretly working with Enzo to eliminate anyone threatening their arrangement.
Matteo wanted out.
Thomas helped him disappear.
That explained the second beneficiary.
My father had given Matteo access to the trust because he knew either of us might need leverage against Salvatore someday.
Enzo had finally discovered Matteo was alive.
And now he wanted both beneficiaries.
Dominic insisted on going to Connecticut.
I insisted on coming.
The farmhouse stood at the end of a wooded road.
Matteo opened the door himself.
He stared at Dominic.
Dominic stared back.
Neither moved.
Then Dominic punched him.
Matteo stumbled backward.
I gasped.
Dominic grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.
For nearly a minute, neither man spoke.
Matteo cried first.
Dominic followed.
Quietly.
It was the most intimate thing I had ever witnessed.
Later, we sat around a scarred kitchen table.
Matteo explained.
Their father had ordered him killed after discovering Matteo planned to expose him.
Thomas arranged the fake death.
Salvatore believed the assassination had succeeded.
Only Thomas knew where Matteo lived.
“Until Enzo found me two weeks ago,” Matteo said.
“What did he want?” Dominic asked.
“The trust.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Your father built a dead-man switch into it.”
“What kind?”
“If both beneficiaries die, every document in the Bennett archive automatically goes to federal prosecutors, three newspapers and two competing crime families.”
I blinked.
“My father was dramatic.”
Matteo smiled.
“He spent twenty years around Carusos.”
Dominic almost smiled too.
Then headlights swept across the windows.
Matteo’s face changed.
“No one comes here.”
Dominic stood.
“Down.”
The first bullet shattered the kitchen window.
Chaos followed.
Dominic pulled me behind a wall.
Matteo retrieved a shotgun from beneath the table.
Anthony’s men returned fire outside.
I crawled toward the hallway.
Dominic grabbed me.
“Where are you going?”
“My phone.”
“Forget it.”
“It has the authentication app for the trust.”
That mattered.
We both knew it.
The phone lay beside the broken window.
Dominic swore.
“I’ll get it.”
“No.”
“Diana.”
“You are not bulletproof because people are scared of you.”
He almost argued.
Then Matteo shouted from the other room.
“They’re coming through the back!”
Dominic moved.
I saw my chance.
I crawled low, grabbed the phone and rolled behind the kitchen island as glass rained over me.
A man entered through the broken rear door.
Not Enzo.
Someone I knew.
Edward Lane.
The consultant who had threatened Rachel.
He raised his weapon.
Before he could fire, Marcus appeared behind him.
One arm in a sling.
Gun in the other.
“Bad timing, Eddie.”
Marcus struck him.
Dominic rushed in.
Within seconds, Lane was restrained.
I stared at Marcus.
“You left the hospital?”
“Hospital food.”
Dominic looked murderous.
“You were shot six hours ago.”
“I’m aware.”
Matteo stared between them.
“Still hate each other?”
“Yes,” both men answered.
For one absurd second, I laughed.
Then Edward Lane began laughing too.
Dominic crouched beside him.
“What?”
Lane smiled through blood.
“You think Enzo came for the trust?”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“He doesn’t care about the money.”
“What does he want?”
Lane looked at me.
“Her.”
My skin went cold.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas Bennett didn’t just keep records.”
His smile widened.
“He recorded the night Salvatore Caruso and Enzo Vitelli agreed to murder a federal witness.”
Dominic went still.
“Where is it?”
Lane looked at me.
“Ask Diana what her father gave her on her eighteenth birthday.”
My mind raced.
Then stopped.
A silver necklace.
I had worn it almost every day for fourteen years.
My fingers moved to my throat.
Dominic stared at the pendant.
So did Marcus.
I opened the tiny locket.
Inside was the photograph I had seen a thousand times.
My father and me.
Dominic took it carefully.
Behind the photograph sat something impossibly small.
A memory card.
Marcus whispered, “Jesus.”
A red laser dot appeared on Dominic’s chest.
I screamed.
Matteo tackled him.
A shot tore through the wall.
The lights went out.
And from outside came a voice amplified through a speaker.
Enzo Vitelli.
“Diana.”
Dominic grabbed my hand.
Enzo continued.
“Bring me the necklace.”
May you like
A pause.
“Or your sister dies.”
