Chapter 3 - My Missing Brother Returned With a Gun and a Story About My Wife
We found Matteo two days later.
Not because he wanted to be found.
Because he wanted me to know he could disappear whenever he chose.
He contacted me from an unknown number.
“Old marina.”
“Come alone.”
I brought twenty men.
Of course.
When I arrived, Matteo was standing beside a black car.
He looked older.
Thinner.
A scar ran along his jaw.
But it was him.
My brother.
The man I had buried without a body.
He looked at me.
“You shouldn't have come.”
I raised my gun.
“You should be dead.”
“I was supposed to be.”
“What happened?”
“You were protected from the truth.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That's becoming a popular excuse.”
He looked toward the water.
“Isabella saved my life.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Before she died.”
My grip tightened.
“She knew I was investigating the trafficking network.”
“And?”
“Your family was involved.”
“I don't believe you.”
“You should.”
He tossed a file toward me.
I opened it.
Inside were photographs of warehouses.
Shipping manifests.
And my mother's signature.
I stared.
“No.”
“Your mother wasn't running everything.”
“Who was?”
Matteo looked at me.
“Our father.”
My heart stopped.
Our father had been dead for years.
But the records were dated before his death.
Matteo explained.
Our father had built the network.
When he died, my mother inherited it.
I had known nothing because I had been kept away.
Isabella discovered the truth.
She wanted to expose it.
Matteo helped her.
Then she found Sophia.
“Who was Sophia's mother?”
“Not Isabella.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She was the daughter of one of the women trapped by the network.”
“So she's not my biological daughter?”
Matteo looked at me.
“No.”
The words should have relieved me.
They didn't.
Because blood wasn't why Sophia mattered.
She was my wife's child in every way that counted.
Isabella had fought for her.
Protected her.
And hidden her.
I asked:
“Why did Isabella write that Sofia was my daughter?”
Matteo shook his head.
“She didn't.”
He handed me another document.
The note on the photograph had been forged.
I looked at the handwriting.
It was close.
But not Isabella's.
Someone had planted the story.
“Why?”
“To make you hunt the wrong people.”
“Who?”
“Your mother's lawyers.”
My blood chilled.
Matteo explained that Sophia carried something.
A memory card.
A recording.
Evidence of the entire network.
Isabella had hidden it inside a bracelet.
The child didn't know.
But the people searching for the evidence believed she did.
“Where is Sophia now?”
Matteo looked at me.
“With Clara.”
“Then why was Clara taken?”
“She wasn't.”
I frowned.
“She left.”
“Why?”
“To get Sophia out before they found her.”
He looked at me.
“And someone was chasing her.”
“Who?”
“Eleanor.”
My mother.
Everything went silent.
Then gunfire erupted.
Matteo pulled me behind the car.
My men returned fire.
When the attack ended, Matteo had disappeared.
I returned to the mansion.
My mother was waiting.
She looked at me.
“You met him.”
“Yes.”
“You always were impulsive.”
“Where is Sophia?”
She stared.
“I don't know.”
“Where is Clara?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
She sat.
“I know Isabella was going to destroy everything.”
“What?”
“She had evidence.”
“Of you?”
“Of everyone.”
“Did you kill her?”
My mother looked at me for a long time.
“No.”
“Did you order her death?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She whispered:
“Your father.”
I felt sick.
“My father was dead.”
“He ordered it before he died.”
“Who carried it out?”
She wouldn't answer.
“Tell me.”
“Someone close to Isabella.”
My mind raced.
Someone she trusted.
Someone I trusted.
“Who?”
My mother stood.
“You are not ready.”
I grabbed her wrist.
“I am done being protected.”
She looked at me.
“Then prepare yourself.”
The lights went out.
A gunshot echoed upstairs.
I ran.
The nursery door was open.
Lily was gone.
My blood stopped.
I screamed her name.
No answer.
Then I found her toy bear on the floor.
Inside was a note.
Bring Sophia.
Or Lily dies.
I stood there unable to breathe.
My mother came into the doorway.
For once, she looked genuinely afraid.
“Alessandro…”
I turned.
“Did you do this?”
“No.”
I raised my gun.
“Then help me.”
May you like
She nodded.
And for the first time in my life, my mother looked like an ally.
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