Chapter 7 - Naomi’s Brother Was AliveNaomi stared at the photograph until her eyes hurt.
Eight years.
Eight birthdays.
Eight Christmas mornings.
Eight anniversaries of the night police told her Evan was dead.
She had visited a grave.
She had talked to a stone.
She had apologized to him for not answering his last phone call.
Now his face filled the laptop screen.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
Vincent stood beside her.
He did not tell her to calm down.
He had learned better.
“Coordinates,” Isabella said.
She entered them.
An industrial district in Queens.
Carlo frowned.
“Old refrigerated warehouse.”
Vincent recognized the address.
“Moretti property.”
Naomi turned.
“What?”
“Purchased through a shell company fourteen years ago.”
“Who controls it?”
Vincent already knew the answer.
“Matteo.”
Alessandra shook her head.
“Too obvious.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because whoever is doing this wants you to see Matteo everywhere.”
Naomi’s grief turned sharp.
“I don’t care who wants what.”
Everyone looked at her.
“My brother is there.”
Vincent said, “You’re not going alone.”
“The message says—”
“I can read.”
“Then you understand.”
“I understand kidnappers make requests that benefit kidnappers.”
Naomi turned.
“Vincent.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Do not turn this into one of your orders.”
“It is one.”
“Then resign from whatever position makes you think you own my choices.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“I do not own you.”
“Good.”
“I also refuse to let you walk into a warehouse alone.”
“That is not your decision.”
“It becomes my decision when armed men use you to reach me.”
Naomi laughed bitterly.
“This is about Evan.”
“It is about both.”
“No.”
She pointed at his chest.
“You don’t get to make yourself the center of everything dangerous.”
Vincent froze.
The sentence landed harder than she intended.
Naomi saw it.
But she did not apologize.
“My brother is alive.”
Her voice broke.
“I need to go.”
Vincent’s anger vanished.
He lowered his voice.
“And I need you to come back.”
Silence.
Naomi looked at him.
He had never said anything like that.
Not as boss.
Not as friend.
Certainly not as the man standing too close to her for either to keep pretending.
Vincent continued.
“If you go alone, I cannot control what happens.”
“That’s exactly the point.”
“No.”
He touched her wrist.
“The point is that I’m afraid.”
Everyone in the room became still.
Vincent Moretti admitted fear to nobody.
Naomi stared.
“For you.”
His voice lowered.
“I’m afraid for you.”
Naomi swallowed.
Then Isabella cleared her throat.
“I hate interrupting this emotionally historic moment.”
Vincent glared.
“But we can send Naomi alone without actually sending her alone.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Explain.”
Tracking.
Audio.
Remote surveillance.
No visible backup.
Naomi would enter.
Vincent’s team—except Vincent trusted no team.
Isabella solved that.
Her people.
Romanos loyal to Michael’s old branch rather than current leadership.
Vincent disliked every part.
But it was better than letting Naomi disappear alone.
Two hours later, Naomi stood outside the Queens warehouse wearing a hidden microphone beneath her collar.
Vincent’s voice came through a nearly invisible earpiece.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Say something useful.”
“You’re irritating.”
“Signal works.”
Naomi almost smiled.
She entered.
The warehouse was cold.
Empty.
Plastic curtains hung between old refrigerated sections.
“Evan?”
No answer.
She walked deeper.
Vincent watched from a surveillance van three blocks away.
Every muscle in his body wanted to go in.
Isabella sat beside him.
“If you open that door, I will lock it.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You have known me one day.”
“And already understand you perfectly.”
On camera, Naomi entered a large chamber.
A man sat under one light.
Evan.
Alive.
Naomi stopped.
Her face collapsed.
“Evan?”
He raised his head.
“Nay.”
Eight years disappeared.
Naomi ran.
She dropped to her knees.
Evan’s hands were tied.
She touched his face.
Real.
Warm.
Scarred.
“You’re alive.”
He started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Naomi hit him.
Then hugged him.
Then hit him again.
Vincent looked away from the monitor.
Isabella watched him.
“You love her.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Watch the perimeter.”
“That is not a denial.”
“Isabella.”
She smiled.
Inside, Naomi cut Evan’s restraints with a concealed blade.
“Who did this?”
Evan looked frightened.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I noticed.”
“Nay, listen to me.”
She grabbed his face.
“Eight years.”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone says that.”
Evan laughed painfully.
“You still do that.”
“What?”
“Get angry when you’re scared.”
Naomi froze.
Vincent heard it over audio.
Interesting.
Apparently they both did.
Evan stood weakly.
“We need to leave.”
“Who took you?”
“Marcus.”
Vincent leaned toward the monitor.
Naomi asked, “On whose orders?”
Evan looked toward the ceiling camera.
“I don’t know.”
Vincent frowned.
“Liar,” he whispered.
Naomi knew too.
“Evan.”
“I swear.”
“You knew Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“Carlo?”
“Yes.”
Evan’s face changed.
Vincent saw it.
Naomi did too.
“What?”
“Carlo wasn’t working for your boss.”
Naomi’s pulse jumped.
“What do you mean?”
“He was working for Alessandra.”
Vincent looked toward Isabella.
She stared.
In the living room earlier, Carlo claimed Antonio recruited him.
Another lie.
Naomi whispered, “Vincent’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Before Antonio died.”
Vincent stood.
Isabella grabbed his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Carlo.”
“He’s with Mom.”
Vincent stopped.
Exactly.
They had left Alessandra and Carlo at Isabella’s property.
Together.
Naomi asked, “Why fake your death?”
Evan looked toward the warehouse entrance.
“Alessandra said it was the only way.”
Vincent went cold.
Naomi’s face hardened.
“She arranged it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Matteo knew I had the hotel video.”
“And?”
“She said if he thought I was dead, he’d stop searching.”
Naomi stepped backward.
“You let me believe you were dead because Vincent’s mother told you to?”
Evan’s eyes filled.
“I wanted to contact you.”
“But?”
“She said you’d be safer.”
Naomi laughed with no humor.
“Of course.”
The family religion.
Protection through lies.
Vincent felt sick.
“Then what?” Naomi asked.
“I worked with Daniel.”
“Collecting evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Against Matteo?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
Evan looked toward the camera.
“Against Alessandra.”
Vincent stopped breathing.
Naomi whispered, “Why?”
Evan’s voice lowered.
“Because Daniel discovered she was the one moving money through Romano accounts.”
Vincent stared at the screen.
“Not Matteo.”
“No.”
“She manipulated both families.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Evan looked ashamed.
“She wanted to dismantle them.”
Naomi frowned.
“That sounds good.”
“It wasn’t.”
Evan shook his head.
“She didn’t care who died doing it.”
Vincent thought of his father.
Matteo.
The Romanos.
Daniel.
People became pieces.
His mother had always been brilliant.
What if brilliance had hardened into obsession?
Evan continued.
“Alessandra created wars between factions.”
“Why?”
“She wanted Vincent to inherit a weakened organization he could eventually leave.”
Naomi whispered, “She wanted to free him.”
“Yes.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Again.
Protection.
Always protection.
Always blood.
Naomi asked, “Did she kill Antonio?”
“Yes.”
“Did she order Daniel’s death?”
Evan hesitated.
Vincent saw the answer.
“Yes.”
Naomi went pale.
“Why?”
“Daniel was going to tell Vincent everything.”
Vincent sat slowly.
His mother killed Daniel.
Maybe.
Evan could be lying.
Everyone could be lying.
Naomi asked, “Did she poison Vincent?”
Evan nodded.
Vincent’s eyes closed.
“She told Marcus to increase the dose.”
Naomi stared.
“Why?”
“Because Vincent had met Daniel.”
Evan’s voice softened.
“She wanted him to forget long enough to move the evidence.”
Naomi whispered, “But Vincent dosed himself first.”
Evan looked surprised.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Then she didn’t know his plan.”
“No.”
Vincent understood.
His trap collided with hers.
Each manipulating the other.
Mother and son.
Naomi’s earpiece clicked.
Isabella whispered from the van.
“Vincent, my mother is not answering.”
He stood.
“Call property security.”
“No response.”
Vincent grabbed his coat.
Inside the warehouse, Evan suddenly looked toward the entrance.
Footsteps.
Naomi heard them.
“Vincent.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Naomi.”
“You told me not to make everything about control.”
“That conversation is suspended.”
Men entered the chamber.
Three.
Weapons.
Naomi moved behind Evan.
The first man shouted, “Step away.”
Evan whispered, “Marcus.”
Marcus Vale emerged.
Vincent recognized him.
Naomi’s jaw hardened.
“You poisoned Vincent.”
Marcus smiled.
“He poisoned himself.”
“You increased it.”
“Orders.”
“From Alessandra?”
Marcus said nothing.
Evan looked at him.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Marcus’s face softened.
“I told you I’d get you out.”
Naomi stared.
“You two know each other.”
Evan looked ashamed.
Marcus lowered the weapon slightly.
“We’ve been working together.”
Vincent cursed.
Another layer.
Naomi said, “For who?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Your brother.”
Evan closed his eyes.
Naomi turned.
“You?”
Evan whispered, “I needed Vincent to forget.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel told him you were involved.”
Naomi froze.
Vincent stopped halfway toward the van door.
Naomi whispered, “Involved in what?”
Evan’s eyes filled.
“Antonio Moretti’s death.”
Silence.
Naomi stared.
“I was eighteen.”
“You worked at the clinic where Alessandra got the drug.”
“No.”
“You interned there.”
“I filed records.”
“You accessed the medication cabinet.”
Naomi’s face drained.
She remembered.
A summer internship.
St. Catherine’s administrative office.
Eight years before joining Moretti businesses.
Evan continued.
“Alessandra used your credentials.”
Naomi shook her head.
“You’re saying I helped kill Antonio without knowing?”
“Yes.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Naomi whispered, “And Vincent found that out last night.”
“Yes.”
“So you increased the drug because you thought he’d blame me.”
Evan nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I couldn’t lose you too.”
Naomi laughed brokenly.
“You let me mourn you for eight years.”
“I know.”
“You drugged Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“You helped hide murder.”
“Yes.”
“And you call that protecting me?”
Evan cried.
“I’m sorry.”
Naomi stepped away.
Vincent heard her breathing.
Then she said something he would remember forever.
“Love that takes away someone’s choice isn’t protection.”
Vincent went still.
Because that sentence was not just for Evan.
It was for him.
For Alessandra.
For every Moretti.
Marcus raised his weapon.
“We need to go.”
Naomi looked toward the hidden camera.
Vincent opened the van door.
Isabella tried to stop him.
“Vincent.”
“No.”
He stepped out.
“My turn to choose.”
He ran toward the warehouse.
Inside, Marcus grabbed Naomi’s arm.
She hit him.
Hard.
Evan shouted.
A gun went off.
Vincent reached the chamber as Naomi fell.
For one impossible second, the world stopped.
“NAOMI!”
He fired.
Marcus dropped his weapon.
Vincent reached her.
Blood.
Her side.
Too much.
Naomi looked up.
“You came.”
His hands shook as he pressed against the wound.
“I told you I would.”
“You usually say things as orders.”
“Be quiet.”
She almost smiled.
Vincent lifted her.
“Stay with me.”
Naomi touched his face.
“You look scared.”
“I am.”
Her eyes fluttered.
“Good.”
“Naomi.”
She closed her eyes.
Vincent’s voice broke.
“Don’t you dare.”
Isabella’s people entered.
Evan was arrested.
Marcus was captured alive.
But Vincent saw none of it.
He carried Naomi out himself.
And as the ambulance doors closed, Vincent Moretti finally remembered the one thing from the previous night he had been unable to recover.
At the clinic, believing he might forget everything, he had held Naomi’s hand.
May you like
And whispered:
“If I wake up and don’t remember how I feel about you, don’t believe me.”
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