Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Roman did not speak for almost ten minutes.
I understood why.
Eleven years earlier, my father had vanished.
Twelve years earlier, Roman’s brother had supposedly died.
Now the same hidden files suggested both tragedies were tied to one man.
Sebastian Marchesi.
Marcus closed the vault.
“We need to move.”
Roman did not react.
“Boss.”
Nothing.
I touched his arm.
“Roman.”
His eyes moved to me.
“You need to get Leo somewhere safe.”
“So do you.”
His face hardened instantly.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Neither am I.”
“This is not your fight.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“My father is dead because of this.”
“You have Leo.”
“And you apparently have a brother.”
Something flashed across his face.
“Had.”
“The photograph says otherwise.”
Roman looked away.
I realized then that anger was the only thing holding him upright.
We returned to his estate after midnight.
Leo was asleep.
I sat beside his bed for nearly an hour.
He looked so peaceful that I almost hated the world for existing outside that room.
Children should not know about men like Sebastian.
They should worry about monsters beneath beds, not men with private armies and politicians in their pockets.
Roman stood in the doorway.
“How is he?”
“Sleeping.”
He nodded.
“You should too.”
“So should you.”
“I have work.”
“You were stabbed yesterday.”
“I’m aware.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because people keep reminding me.”
I followed him into the hallway.
“Tell me about Luca.”
He stopped.
For several seconds, I thought he would refuse.
Then he walked toward the library.
There was whiskey on a sideboard.
Roman poured a glass.
He offered me one.
I declined.
He drank.
“My brother was two years younger.”
“Were you close?”
“Closer than anyone.”
“What happened?”
Roman stared into the glass.
“Our father wanted an heir.”
“You.”
“Yes. Luca was allowed to be reckless because he would never inherit.”
“That sounds unfair to both of you.”
Roman smiled without humor.
“It was.”
“Car accident?”
“That is what they told me.”
“You didn’t see the body?”
“The car burned.”
My stomach tightened.
“Convenient.”
“I spent years blaming myself.”
“Why?”
“Luca called me that night.”
Roman’s voice changed.
“He wanted me to meet him. Said he discovered something about Sebastian.”
“You didn’t go.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was angry.”
“At Luca?”
“At everyone.”
Roman sat.
“I told him I was finished cleaning up his mistakes. Three hours later, police found his car wrapped around a barrier outside Milwaukee.”
“And your father?”
“Identified a watch recovered from the wreckage.”
“No DNA?”
“There was supposedly not enough.”
I understood.
“You believed them.”
“I wanted to.”
That was painfully human.
“What happened after?”
“My mother stopped speaking for almost a year. My father became worse. Sebastian became indispensable.”
“And now you think Luca helped him.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
I sat across from Roman.
“You can find him.”
Roman looked at me.
“If he is alive.”
“He was alive three months after everyone thought he was dead.”
“That photograph is eleven years old.”
“So?”
Roman said nothing.
I leaned forward.
“You walked into a restaurant while your side was stitched together because you thought someone was treating me unfairly.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I owed you.”
“And maybe you owe your brother enough to find out what happened.”
His jaw tightened.
“You do not know what Luca was capable of.”
“No.”
I paused.
“But I know what guilt is capable of.”
Roman looked at me for a long time.
The next morning, Marcus found Luca.
Sort of.
A man matching his fingerprints had been arrested in Croatia six years earlier under the name Lucas Marino.
Released after forty-eight hours.
Three years later, the same identity crossed into Canada.
Then disappeared.
Roman studied the records.
“He’s alive.”
Marcus nodded.
“Or was three years ago.”
Roman made one phone call.
Then another.
By lunchtime, half a dozen investigators were working across three countries.
Money could do remarkable things.
So could fear.
Meanwhile, the police arrested David Keller.
Not for the break-in.
For murder.
Eddie Ramos—or whoever he truly was—had been found dead in a motel near O’Hare.
Single gunshot.
David’s fingerprints were discovered in the room.
I did not believe for one second that David had killed him.
Neither did Roman.
“He is being framed,” I said.
“Yes.”
“By Sebastian.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“To close a loose end.”
Roman’s phone rang.
He listened.
His eyes changed.
“Where?”
Marcus looked over.
Roman ended the call.
“Someone just tried to kill David in police custody.”
That meant Sebastian was cleaning house.
David survived.
Barely.
The attack created enough chaos that Roman’s attorney managed to arrange a guarded hospital interview.
I insisted on going.
Roman refused.
I went anyway.
David looked twenty years older.
Bruising covered half his face.
One wrist was handcuffed to the bed.
When he saw me, he started crying.
I had never imagined David Keller could cry.
“Natalie.”
I remained near the door.
“Did you know who my father was when you hired me?”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Anger exploded through me.
“You watched me for three years.”
“I had no choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“You don’t understand Sebastian.”
“Then explain.”
David looked toward Roman.
Fear swallowed his face.
Roman stood in the corner, expression unreadable.
“I was nineteen when Sebastian recruited me,” David whispered. “He paid for college. Gave me work. By the time I understood what the work was, I knew too much.”
“You helped kill my father?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I didn’t.”
“His files contain your name.”
“I moved money. That’s all.”
“For murderers.”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him cleanly.
It would have been easier.
But suddenly I saw what cowardice really looked like.
Not evil.
Not innocence.
A thousand selfish decisions made because doing the right thing seemed too expensive.
“What was Sebastian looking for?”
“The drive.”
“Why hire me?”
“He thought your mother gave it to you before she died.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Did you break into my apartment?”
David nodded.
“Why?”
“He threatened my daughter.”
I froze.
David had a daughter?
He had never mentioned family.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman stepped forward.
“What is her name?”
David looked at him.
“Claire.”
“How old?”
“Seventeen.”
Roman took out his phone.
“Photo.”
David began crying harder.
Roman sent the image to Marcus.
“We’ll find her.”
David stared.
“Why would you help me?”
Roman’s expression went cold.
“Because children are not currency.”
That was the moment I began to understand the difference between Roman and the men around him.
He was dangerous.
I had no illusions about that.
But somewhere beneath everything his father had taught him, Roman still possessed a line he refused to cross.
Sebastian apparently had none.
David told us everything.
Private accounts.
Warehouses.
Police officers on payroll.
Restaurants used to transfer envelopes.
Then he told Roman something worse.
“Sebastian knew Daniel had evidence because Luca told him.”
Roman went still.
“What?”
David swallowed.
“Your brother found Daniel copying financial records.”
Roman stepped closer.
“What did Luca do?”
“He confronted him.”
“And?”
“Daniel convinced Luca Sebastian was destroying your family.”
Roman’s expression changed.
“They were working together.”
David nodded.
“For about two months.”
My heart pounded.
“My father and Luca?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They planned to expose Sebastian.”
“Then why is my father dead?”
David looked toward Roman.
“Because somebody betrayed them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman grabbed the bed rail.
“Who?”
“I swear.”
The hospital monitor beeped faster.
David panicked.
“Sebastian told me Luca was dead. Later I discovered that was a lie. He kept Luca somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman’s voice became terrifyingly quiet.
“Think.”
David started shaking.
“There was one word.”
“What word?”
“Blackwater.”
Marcus and Roman exchanged a look.
“What?” I asked.
Roman spoke.
“My father owned an estate near Lake Geneva.”
“And?”
“The property was called Blackwater.”
The estate had been abandoned for nine years.
Roman had not visited since his father’s funeral.
We arrived just before sunset.
The mansion sat behind iron gates overlooking frozen-looking water beneath gray autumn skies.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Roman moved through the halls like a man walking inside a grave.
“This was my mother’s favorite place.”
“What happened to her?”
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She died two years after Luca.”
He looked around.
“I think grief killed her before the disease did.”
We searched for three hours.
Nothing.
Then I noticed scratches on the basement floor.
Fresh?
No.
But deliberate.
A steel cabinet covered part of the wall.
Marcus and Roman moved it.
Behind it was a door.
The room beyond contained a bed.
Chains.
A sink.
My stomach turned.
Someone had been held there.
On the wall, carved into the concrete, were dates.
Hundreds of them.
Roman touched the last date.
Eight years earlier.
Below it were four words.
R, I DIDN’T BETRAY YOU.
Roman’s hand trembled.
Beneath those words was an arrow.
It pointed toward a loose brick.
Marcus removed it.
Inside was a folded photograph.
Roman and Luca as teenagers.
On the back, someone had written:
SEBASTIAN KNOWS ABOUT THE BROOKS GIRL.
I felt my blood freeze.
Eight years ago, Luca DeLuca had known who I was.
Before I had ever met Roman.
Roman turned the photograph over again.
There was another line beneath the first.
If Daniel failed, protect Natalie.
Roman looked at me.
And somewhere upstairs, glass shattered.
Marcus drew his gun.
Roman pushed me behind him.
May you like
Footsteps moved across the floor above us.
We were not alone.
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