Chapter 2 - The Brother in Boston
Meline spent that night in the west wing.
She was given a guest room larger than her entire apartment.
A plate of food arrived at seven.
She didn't touch it.
At eight, Damian knocked.
Meline opened the door.
He stood alone.
No guards.
No Vincent.
No weapon visible.
“Your landlord confirmed someone broke into your apartment.”
“I know.”
“Your brother called.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Elias?”
Damian nodded.
“He's alive.”
Meline almost collapsed with relief.
“Can I speak to him?”
“He's sleeping.”
“He's sleeping?”
“After being given medication.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“How did you get him medication?”
Damian didn't answer.
“You sent a doctor.”
“Yes.”
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
“I had every right after someone broke into your apartment.”
She stared at him.
“You can't just interfere in my life.”
“I already have.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't like unanswered questions.”
She folded her arms.
“And I'm one?”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed.
“At least you're honest.”
Damian stepped inside.
He looked around the room.
“You should lock the door.”
“I thought this entire house belonged to you.”
“It does.”
“Then why should I lock it?”
“Because I may not be the person who comes through it.”
That stopped her.
He placed an envelope on the table.
Inside were photographs of her brother.
Elias sitting in a Boston rehabilitation clinic.
A doctor beside him.
A woman visiting.
Meline recognized the woman immediately.
Her aunt.
The woman who supposedly lived in Ohio.
“How did you find her?”
“She doesn't live in Ohio.”
Meline sat.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for the truth.”
“Why?”
“Because someone tried to break into your apartment.”
She stared at the photographs.
“Elias said someone was following him.”
Damian nodded.
“He was right.”
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
Meline looked up.
“Then why are you helping me?”
Damian's expression softened.
“Because you remind me of someone.”
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“Did she work here?”
“She did.”
Meline didn't know what to say.
Damian sat across from her.
“She was twenty-seven when she met my father.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
Meline's eyebrows rose.
“Disappeared?”
“She was declared dead.”
“And you don't believe it.”
“I believe my father lied.”
She stared.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Your mother disappeared the same year.”
Meline's breath caught.
“What?”
“I found an old employment record.”
“From where?”
“Here.”
She stood.
“You think my mother worked for the Russo family?”
“I think she knew my mother.”
Meline shook her head.
“My mother died when I was ten.”
“That is what you were told.”
She stared at him.
“Are you saying she's alive?”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That the records don't match.”
Damian handed her a photocopy.
Two names.
Two employee numbers.
Two signatures.
One date.
Meline looked at the second signature.
Her mother's.
Or what looked exactly like it.
She sat again.
“This can't be real.”
“It is.”
“Why would my mother work for your father?”
“Because she was one of the only people he trusted.”
“Was she involved in your business?”
Damian shook his head.
“She worked in the house.”
Meline looked at him.
“Like me.”
He didn't answer.
A sudden knock interrupted them.
Vincent entered.
“We found the person who broke into her apartment.”
Meline stood.
“Who?”
“A former security contractor.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Silence.
Meline looked at Damian.
He didn't blink.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
She believed him.
That scared her.
Because it meant there were worse men outside.
Vincent placed another file on the table.
“The Sullivans have been watching Elias for six months.”
Meline's voice shook.
“Why?”
“They think he has something.”
“He doesn't.”
“They think you do.”
“I don't.”
Vincent nodded.
“Then ask your brother.”
Meline called Elias.
This time he answered.
“Meline?”
She started crying.
“Elias.”
“You shouldn't call.”
“I need the truth.”
Silence.
“What did you bring from Mom's house?”
Elias breathed heavily.
“How much did Damian tell you?”
“Not enough.”
Another silence.
Then Elias said,
“Mom left a box.”
“What box?”
“I found it after she died.”
Meline stared at Damian.
“What was inside?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“Russo House.”
Her heart jumped.
“Why would Mom have that?”
“I don't know.”
“What else?”
Elias hesitated.
“A key.”
“What key?”
“The kind that opens one of the old rooms.”
“Which room?”
“I don't know.”
Meline heard a sound.
A door closing.
“Elias?”
He whispered,
“Someone's here.”
Then the call ended.
Meline shot to her feet.
“Damian.”
He was already moving.
“Vincent.”
They rushed downstairs.
Within minutes, cars were prepared.
Meline insisted on coming.
Damian refused.
She grabbed his arm.
“You are not leaving my brother there.”
His eyes met hers.
“Then you're coming with us.”
Boston was six hours away.
They flew.
By midnight, they reached the clinic.
Elias was gone.
The room was empty.
The bed had been stripped.
The window open.
On the mattress was one piece of paper.
MELINE, COME HOME.
Not Boston.
Home.
Russo House.
Damian read it twice.
Then he looked at her.
“You're not a maid anymore.”
“What am I?”
May you like
He stepped closer.
“The reason someone is reopening a twenty-year-old war.”
