Chapter 8 - BROTHERSThe question followed Dante all the way back to Chicago.
Who ordered Antonio Moretti’s death?
He said nothing in the car.
Marco sat across from him.
Elena slept against Marco’s shoulder after Vivienne sedated her lightly for pain.
For six months, Dante had wanted his brother alive.
Now that Marco was sitting three feet away, he wanted answers badly enough to destroy the reunion.
He waited until Elena was safely inside the hospital.
Then he confronted Marco in a private waiting room.
“Did you kill Dad?”
Marco closed the door.
“No.”
“Did you order it?”
Marco stared at him.
Dante stepped closer.
“Answer.”
“I stopped his medication.”
Dante froze.
The words were worse than yes.
“What?”
“Our father wasn’t dying.”
Marco’s voice was flat.
“He was recovering from the stroke.”
Dante stared.
“You told me the doctors said—”
“I lied.”
Dante punched him.
Marco crashed into the wall.
He did not fight back.
Dante hit him again.
“Why?”
Marco wiped blood from his mouth.
“Because he was going to kill Mom.”
Dante stopped.
Marco continued.
“He found her.”
“When?”
“Nine years ago.”
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
“He told me she was already dead.”
“He lied.”
Marco leaned against the wall.
“He discovered where she was hiding and decided she was dangerous because she had copies of financial ledgers.”
Dante felt sick.
“So you killed him.”
“I made a choice.”
“You killed our father.”
“He had ordered three men to bring Mom back.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
Dante turned away.
Every memory of Antonio changed shape.
Their father teaching them cards.
Their father standing at Isabella’s fake funeral.
Their father telling Dante that weakness was affection without discipline.
Marco said, “I switched one medication.”
Dante looked back.
“The anticoagulant?”
“Yes.”
“His second stroke.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Did Mom know?”
“No.”
“Does she know now?”
“No.”
Dante laughed once.
“Excellent. Another family secret.”
Marco looked exhausted.
“I was twenty-six.”
“And that excuses it?”
“No.”
“Then what does?”
“Nothing.”
Dante stared.
Marco did not defend himself.
That made anger harder.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You let me mourn him.”
“Yes.”
“You let me build the organization on his name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid if I told you, you would hate me more than you hated him.”
Dante looked away.
The honesty landed.
Marco continued.
“I was also afraid you would choose him.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“I know that now.”
Dante turned.
“You didn’t then?”
“No.”
They stood in silence.
Then Marco said, “There’s more.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“Of course there is.”
“Elena found out.”
“When?”
“Two months before the explosion.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“No.”
“She helped me investigate Sal.”
Dante frowned.
“Why would Sal know about Dad?”
“Because Sal helped me switch the medication.”
There it was.
The missing leverage.
Sal had known Marco’s darkest secret.
“He owned you.”
“For years.”
Marco sat.
“I thought he was helping me save Mom. Then later I realized he had encouraged the entire thing.”
Dante understood.
“Sal wanted Dad dead too.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Antonio planned to remove him.”
Dante slowly sat opposite Marco.
“So Sal manipulated you into killing the one man who could expose him.”
“Yes.”
“And then held it over you.”
“Yes.”
“Then Elena discovered the truth.”
“Yes.”
Dante exhaled.
The entire family had been built on blackmail and silence.
That night, Isabella came to the waiting room.
She took one look at Marco’s bruised mouth.
“Dante.”
“He deserved worse.”
Marco said, “Probably.”
Isabella sat.
Dante looked at his mother.
“You need to know something.”
Marco shook his head.
“Dante.”
“No more secrets.”
He told her.
Everything.
Isabella did not speak for a long time.
Then she looked at Marco.
“You stopped Antonio’s medication?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
Marco’s voice broke.
“I’m sorry.”
Isabella stood.
She walked toward him.
Marco braced for anger.
Instead, she slapped him.
Hard.
Then she pulled him into her arms.
“You stupid boy.”
Marco began crying.
Dante looked away.
Isabella held her oldest son.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I know.”
“You were not responsible for saving me from your father.”
Marco whispered, “I know.”
“No.”
She pulled back.
“You know it now.”
Her eyes moved to Dante.
“And you.”
Dante stiffened.
“Me?”
“You do not get to become him because you were hurt by him.”
Dante knew exactly what she meant.
The gun aimed at Vivienne.
The suspicion.
The empire.
The need to control.
He nodded.
“I know.”
Isabella sighed.
“This family is exhausting.”
For the first time, Dante laughed.
Marco did too.
Later, Dante found Vivienne on the hospital roof.
Chicago lights burned beneath the clouds.
She stood near the railing.
“How is Elena?”
“Malnourished. Dehydrated. Two healing fractures.”
Vivienne looked angry.
“But she’ll recover.”
“Good.”
Dante stood beside her.
“Sal is in custody.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m turning evidence over.”
Vivienne looked at him.
“Federal?”
“Yes.”
“That could expose your organization.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing it anyway?”
Dante watched the city.
“Sal built half his operation using my companies. If I hide what happened, I become part of it.”
Vivienne was silent.
“That could cost you everything.”
“No.”
Dante looked at her.
“Not everything.”
She held his gaze.
The space between them changed.
Dante said, “The engagement is over.”
Vivienne blinked.
“That was abrupt.”
“I told you before. You should choose.”
“And if I choose to stay?”
His voice softened.
“Then stay because you want me.”
Vivienne looked away.
“That may be more frightening than the gun.”
“I missed.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’d like credit eventually.”
She smiled.
A real smile.
The second he had seen.
Dante felt something in his chest loosen.
Then the roof door opened.
Vincent appeared.
His face was grim.
“We have a problem.”
Dante turned.
“Sal talked.”
“To whom?”
“Not us.”
Vincent held up his phone.
“He made one call before we locked communications.”
“To who?”
Vincent looked at Vivienne.
“Her father’s security office.”
Vivienne frowned.
Everett was downstairs.
Dante said, “Who answered?”
Vincent turned the screen.
A photograph appeared.
Everett’s deputy.
Nathan Cole.
Vivienne’s face drained of color.
“What?”
Dante noticed.
“You know him.”
Vivienne whispered, “He was the doctor.”
“What doctor?”
“The surgeon I exposed.”
She stared at the screen.
“The hospital said his name was Dr. Nathaniel Cole.”
Vincent’s voice became quiet.
“He stopped practicing medicine two years ago.”
Vivienne shook her head.
“No.”
Dante asked, “What?”
Her eyes lifted.
“He didn’t stop practicing.”
She remembered the medical board hearing.
The missing evidence.
The patient who died.
The intoxicated physician protected by powerful men.
Then she understood.
“That patient wasn’t an accident.”
May you like
Dante’s blood went cold.
Vivienne whispered, “Sal didn’t build this operation alone.”
Related Stories
