Chapter 5 - Elena's Last Secret
The flash drive contained a video.
I watched it alone.
Dominic offered to stay.
I told him to leave.
For the first time since Elena died, I heard my wife's voice without expecting it.
She appeared on screen sitting in what looked like a hotel room.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Terrified.
“Vincent,” she began, “if you're watching this, then I was right to be afraid.”
I stopped the recording.
My hands were shaking.
That angered me.
I started again.
“I know what you're going to think when you see Luca's name.”
Her eyes lowered.
“He is alive.”
I shut my eyes.
“He contacted me because someone had approached him about taking control of your organization after your death.”
My death.
“He believed it was one of his old allies. It wasn't.”
Elena took a breath.
“The person knew private details about our home. Matteo's school. My schedule. Dominic's routes. Even the code you use for financial authorizations.”
I leaned toward the screen.
“Luca told me he wanted proof because he thought someone was trying to frame him.”
She paused.
“He also wanted something from me.”
Of course he did.
“He wanted protection.”
I laughed bitterly.
Typical Luca.
“Vincent, your brother isn't innocent. He has done terrible things. But I don't believe he planted the bomb threat that was sent to me.”
Bomb threat.
No one had ever told me about a threat.
“I didn't tell you because I knew what you'd do.”
There it was again.
Everyone knew what I'd do.
Everyone except me.
“You would lock us inside the estate, start a war, and possibly kill the wrong person before we understood what was happening.”
I wanted to be angry.
I couldn't.
Because she was right.
The screen blurred for a moment as Elena wiped her eyes.
“There is something else.”
I stopped breathing.
“The money laundering through the children's medical foundation is real. But it isn't your money.”
She held up a document.
“Someone is using Rossi-controlled companies to move funds connected to federal contracts and opioid distribution.”
Clara's brother had worked for a medical company.
Fentanyl.
Private transport.
Rehabilitation supply chains.
The pieces began forming an ugly picture.
“I gave evidence to Daniel Hayes,” Elena continued. “He agreed to help trace the shipments because his company handled some of the logistics.”
Her face tightened.
“Daniel died three weeks later.”
I stared at the screen.
Clara had been telling the truth.
“Elena,” I whispered, though she had been dead fourteen months.
Her recording continued.
“I gave Daniel's sister, Clara, a key. I didn't tell her everything. The less she knew, the safer she was.”
I leaned back.
That explained Clara's ignorance.
“There's one person I still don't understand.”
Elena looked directly into the camera.
“Gabriel Shaw.”
My attorney.
“He appears on documents where he shouldn't. But I don't know whether he's involved or whether someone is using his credentials.”
She paused.
“And Vincent, there's something about Dominic.”
My stomach tightened.
“He knows Luca is alive.”
I stopped the video.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Dominic had looked me in the eye yesterday and acted surprised.
I resumed playback.
“Elena continued, “I don't know why Dominic hasn't told you. I confronted him. He said he had reasons.”
The video ended with her crying.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
The way Elena cried when she didn't want anyone to hear.
“I love you,” she said. “But sometimes the hardest thing about loving you is knowing you're more comfortable fighting enemies than listening to people who love you.”
The screen went black.
I sat alone in the bank conference room for twenty minutes.
Then I called Dominic.
“Come inside.”
He entered.
I locked the door.
“You knew Luca was alive.”
His expression didn't change.
That told me enough.
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
I stood.
“You let me believe my brother was dead for seven years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Luca asked me to.”
I laughed.
“Of course.”
“He wanted out.”
“He stole millions.”
“He returned most of it.”
“Most.”
“He was twenty-nine and stupid.”
“He was thirty-one.”
“Still stupid.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then anger returned.
“You helped him fake his death?”
“No. Your father did.”
That stopped me.
“My father?”
“Luca went to him after you discovered the missing money. Your father arranged the bridge accident.”
I stared.
“My father told me to hunt him.”
“Exactly.”
Understanding came slowly.
“He was testing me.”
Dominic nodded.
“If you found Luca, your father wanted to know whether you'd kill your own brother.”
I felt sick.
“And if I did?”
“He would've decided you were ready to inherit everything.”
I turned away.
My father had been dead ten years, yet somehow he was still poisoning rooms.
“Why didn't Luca come back after he died?”
“He hated you.”
“That never stopped him before.”
Dominic sighed.
“He was also ashamed.”
I looked out the window.
“Why did Elena meet him?”
“Because he contacted her.”
“You drove her.”
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me not to, and because every time you heard Luca's name back then, you stopped thinking.”
I turned.
“Don't make this my fault.”
“I didn't.”
“You're implying—”
“I am telling you why I made the decision.”
“Which was wrong.”
“Yes.”
The simple admission took some of the anger out of me.
Dominic sat.
“After Elena died, Luca disappeared again. I thought maybe he was responsible. Then Marcus vanished. Gabriel started moving money. Everything became impossible to separate.”
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because your son had just lost his mother, and you were sleeping three hours a night with a gun in your hand.”
I said nothing.
Dominic looked toward the dark screen.
“Elena wasn't the only person afraid of what grief might turn you into.”
That hurt.
Because it sounded like my wife.
I called the estate.
Clara answered.
“How's Matteo?”
“Asleep.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Did the key lead somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“To Elena?”
“Yes.”
Her breathing softened.
“Was she right?”
“About too many things.”
I rubbed my eyes.
“Clara.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Silence.
“For what?”
“For showing up.”
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, “Come home, Vincent.”
No one had said those words to me in years.
Not like that.
Come home.
Not return to the estate.
Not we need you.
Home.
I arrived after midnight.
Clara was asleep in a chair beside Matteo's bed.
His hand rested loosely inside hers.
I stood in the doorway.
The camera above them blinked red.
For the first time since installing the system, I hated it.
I reached into my pocket, opened the security app, and disabled Matteo's bedroom camera.
Then another alert appeared.
Motion detected.
Old boathouse.
I opened the live feed.
A man stepped into view.
He removed his hood.
My brother looked directly at the camera.
May you like
Then held up a phone displaying four words.
WE NEED TO TALK.
