Chapter 2 - The Sister Who Knew Too Much
My sister arrived at the hospital twenty-three minutes after Elena whispered that I shouldn't trust her.
She walked into the private waiting room wearing a black wool coat, her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
Her cheeks were flushed from the cold.
"Nico."
She hurried toward me.
"How is she?"
I watched her carefully.
For thirty-two years, I had known every expression on Ava's face.
I knew how she looked when she was angry, embarrassed, frightened, or hiding a birthday surprise.
But that night, I realized there was one expression I had never learned to recognize.
The face she wore when she was lying to me.
"She's alive," I said.
Ava pressed her hands together.
"Thank God."
"The doctors are watching her closely."
"And the baby?"
"Stable for now."
Her shoulders dropped with relief.
I wanted to believe it.
More than anything, I wanted my sister's concern to be genuine.
Instead, I asked, "When did you last speak to Elena?"
Ava blinked.
"What?"
"When did you last speak to my wife?"
She looked toward Gabriel, who stood near the door.
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Answer."
"Maybe two weeks ago."
"About what?"
"Nothing important."
I took one step closer.
"Try again."
Her expression changed.
"Nico, you're scaring me."
"Elena was found unconscious in the Ashford Building."
Ava went pale.
It happened so quickly that she couldn't hide it.
"The Ashford Building?" she repeated.
"You know it?"
"Of course I know it. Dad used to have offices there."
"Who called you from that building tonight?"
She stopped breathing.
I watched the truth reach her eyes before she could construct a lie.
"Nico—"
"Who?"
"A maintenance worker."
"Why?"
"He said Elena had been hurt."
"And why would a maintenance worker call you?"
Ava looked down.
"Because I asked him to."
The room became very quiet.
Gabriel straightened.
I stared at my sister.
"You knew Elena was going there."
Ava nodded.
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"She made me promise."
"Promise what?"
Ava's eyes filled with tears.
"That I wouldn't tell you she was investigating Dad."
My father's name hung between us.
Lorenzo Marchetti had been many things.
A powerful businessman.
A ruthless criminal.
A father who taught me how to shoot before he taught me how to drive.
But investigating him was something Elena would never have done without a reason.
"What was she looking for?"
Ava hesitated.
"Records."
"What records?"
"Something about her mother."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Elena's mother, Catherine Brooks, had died when Elena was fourteen.
The official cause had been a highway collision outside Milwaukee.
A tragic accident.
A truck driver lost control during heavy rain.
At least, that was what Elena had believed for twenty years.
"What does Catherine Brooks have to do with my father?"
Ava began crying.
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
She looked at Gabriel.
"Can we speak alone?"
"No."
"Nico, please."
"Gabriel stays."
My sister wiped her cheeks.
"Three weeks ago, Elena called me. She said someone had mailed her a copy of an old insurance investigation."
"What investigation?"
"Her mother's accident."
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
"She said the report had been altered. The truck driver's name was missing from the original file, and someone had added it later."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Keep talking."
"She found a reference to a company called Northbridge Logistics."
I knew the name.
My father had used Northbridge twenty years earlier to move merchandise through the Midwest.
The company had been dissolved after his death.
"Elena thought Northbridge owned the truck."
"Did it?"
Ava nodded slowly.
"According to the documents she found."
I turned toward the dark window.
Twenty years ago, my father had been fighting a brutal territorial war.
People had died.
Evidence had disappeared.
Witnesses had changed their stories.
And now Elena's dead mother had somehow become part of it.
"Why didn't Elena come to me?"
Ava's answer hurt more than I expected.
"Because you told her your marriage was a lie."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
I had wanted Elena to hate me.
I had succeeded.
"And why did she trust you?"
"Because I told her I never believed you stopped loving her."
I turned back.
Ava's tears were genuine now.
At least I thought they were.
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
She nodded.
My chest tightened.
"How long?"
"About six weeks."
Six weeks.
My sister had known for six weeks that I was going to be a father.
And she had said nothing.
"She asked me not to tell you," Ava whispered.
"Why?"
"Because she didn't want you coming back out of obligation."
I stared at her.
"Obligation?"
"She said if you didn't love her, she wouldn't use a baby to make you stay."
The words struck harder than the revelation itself.
Elena had spent six years loving a man who could buy anything.
And after our divorce, she had been prepared to raise our child without asking him for a dollar.
I sat down.
My hands were shaking.
Ava approached.
"Nico, there's something else."
I looked up.
"Elena wasn't meeting a stranger at the Ashford Building."
"Who was she meeting?"
Ava swallowed.
"Me."
I stood so quickly that the chair struck the wall.
"You were there?"
"I was supposed to be."
"Supposed to be?"
"She asked me to meet her at nine. I arrived late."
"How late?"
"Twenty minutes."
"And when you got there?"
"The building was almost empty. I called her phone, but she didn't answer. Then the maintenance worker found her."
I stepped closer.
"Why didn't you call an ambulance yourself?"
"He was already calling."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Ava stared at me.
"Because Elena told me that if anything happened, I was supposed to keep you away from the investigation."
My voice became dangerously quiet.
"Why?"
"She thought someone close to you was involved."
Before I could answer, Gabriel's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Then he looked at me.
"Boss, we have a problem."
"What?"
"Elena's apartment."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"What about it?"
"Someone broke in twenty minutes ago."
I reached for my coat.
Gabriel blocked the door.
"Nico, wait."
"Move."
"There's more."
He turned the phone toward me.
A security photograph filled the screen.
Two men in dark clothing entering Elena's apartment building.
One carried a large black bag.
The other wore a baseball cap.
I recognized the second man.
His name was Patrick Keane.
He had been one of my father's most trusted enforcers.
And according to the death certificate I had personally signed eight years earlier, Patrick Keane had been buried beside my father.
I stared at the photograph.
"That's impossible."
Gabriel's face was grim.
"Apparently not."
My sister made a strangled sound.
I turned toward her.
"Ava?"
She was staring at the screen.
Her lips trembled.
"Nico," she whispered, "there's something I should have told you a long time ago."
"What?"
She looked at me with the terror of someone who had spent years waiting for a particular nightmare.
"Patrick Keane didn't die in that explosion."
I felt the room shift.
"How do you know?"
May you like
Ava began sobbing.
"Because Dad made me help him disappear."
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