Chapter 5 - The Brother Who Wanted Vincent Gone
Mateo’s story filled gaps.
Not forgiveness.
Gaps.
Rafael had built the illicit freight network with Vincent’s father.
Anthony handled legal cover.
Several older Castellano cousins supplied manpower.
Mateo worked accounting.
At first willingly.
He was twenty-six and poor.
The money seemed impossible to refuse.
Then shipments changed.
Weapons.
Fentanyl.
Human trafficking routes disguised inside labor transport.
Mateo wanted out.
Rafael refused.
So Mateo copied records.
He went to Vincent’s father.
Mistake.
The elder Castellano protected his brother.
Mateo was marked for death.
Isabella learned enough to help stage his escape through a federal contact.
But the operation leaked.
A substitute body.
Fake death certificate.
Mateo vanished.
His family was supposed to be protected.
Then Mia died.
“I should’ve come back,” Mateo told Camille.
“Yes.”
“I thought—”
“Stop telling me what you thought.”
She stood on the lodge porch.
Adeline played with a toy boat nearby.
Vincent listened from several feet away.
Mateo nodded.
“I was a coward.”
That was at least honest.
Vincent asked:
“Who voted to remove me?”
Mateo looked toward him.
“Rafael organized it.”
“So Anthony lied.”
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
“Rafael proposed. Family council voted.”
“Names.”
Mateo gave seven.
Two shocked Vincent.
One didn't.
Rafael.
Anthony.
Cousin Paul.
Vincent’s own aunt Sofia.
Three retired lieutenants.
And—
“Dominic?”
Vincent stared.
Mateo shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Marcus Ellery.”
The security chief.
Vincent went completely still.
Camille looked at him.
“Marcus?”
Mateo nodded.
“He’s been feeding Rafael access schedules.”
Vincent laughed once.
Darkly.
Marcus had been outside the hospital.
Inside his estate.
Beside Adeline.
“Proof?”
Mateo handed him a phone.
Messages.
Encrypted.
Marcus’s number.
Vehicle schedules.
Camera maintenance windows.
Office privacy blocks.
The attack succeeded because Marcus made the office vulnerable.
Vincent stared.
“How long?”
“Three years.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Vincent’s phone rang.
Marcus.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Vincent answered.
“Yes?”
“Boss, we’ve got a problem.”
Vincent looked at Mateo.
“What kind?”
“Anthony escaped federal transport.”
Vincent almost admired the absurdity.
“How?”
“Vehicle collision.”
“Convenient.”
“I’m sending teams.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Boss?”
“Stay at the estate.”
Another pause.
“Where are you?”
There.
Not Are you safe?
Where.
Vincent smiled slightly.
“Driving.”
“To?”
“Home.”
“I’ll prepare.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He hung up.
Camille understood.
“You're going back?”
“Yes.”
“To the traitor?”
“Yes.”
“That seems idiotic.”
“Probably.”
“Then why?”
“Because Adeline is safer away from the estate.”
Camille looked at her daughter.
“And you?”
Vincent glanced at Mateo.
“I’ve been betrayed before.”
Mateo said:
“Not like this.”
Vincent nodded.
“No.”
They created a plan.
Camille and Adeline stayed at the lodge with Isabella and federal protection.
Mateo accompanied Vincent.
Two dead men driving into a house full of liars.
Vincent found the symmetry annoying.
At the estate, Marcus greeted him on the front steps.
“You look terrible.”
“Stabbing.”
“So I heard.”
Vincent stared at him.
“How long have you been selling my schedule?”
Marcus froze.
One second.
Then smiled.
“Mateo.”
“Yes.”
“You found him.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked toward the vehicle.
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“Camille?”
“Safe.”
“Child?”
“Safer.”
Marcus sighed.
“You always did learn late.”
Vincent took two steps closer.
“Why?”
Marcus’s face changed.
No longer employee.
No longer loyal lieutenant.
Just man.
“Your father promised me part ownership.”
“My father promised everyone everything.”
“I gave twenty years to this family.”
“I paid you extremely well.”
“That isn’t ownership.”
“So you joined Rafael.”
“Rafael understood tradition.”
“Tradition.”
Vincent laughed quietly.
“You mean criminal profits.”
“I mean power.”
“Same thing to you.”
Marcus’s hand moved slightly.
Vincent saw.
“So did Mateo,” Marcus said.
“Once.”
“And you.”
“Once.”
Marcus smiled.
“Exactly. You got rich, then decided everyone else needed morality.”
That accusation Vincent had heard before.
Partially true.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“No.”
Marcus’s voice hardened.
“You’re asking us to become poor because you discovered conscience.”
“Interesting definition of poor.”
“Don't mock me.”
“I’m not.”
Vincent lowered his voice.
“You tried to murder me.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Anthony did.”
“You opened the door.”
“Yes.”
“Same result.”
Marcus’s hand moved faster.
Gun.
Vincent expected it.
Mateo emerged from the side entrance first.
Weapon raised.
“Drop it.”
Marcus froze.
He stared at a dead man.
“You.”
Mateo smiled humorlessly.
“Apparently this family has poor burial standards.”
Marcus laughed.
Then lowered the gun.
Not surrender.
Distraction.
Lights went out.
Gunfire came from the hall.
Vincent dropped.
Mateo fired back.
Marcus disappeared.
The estate erupted.
Vincent’s own security split into two groups.
Loyal.
Bought.
Nobody knew which until guns came out.
Vincent hated every second.
Not because of danger.
Because this was exactly the world he had tried to end.
When the lights returned, three guards were injured.
One attacker dead.
Marcus gone.
And a message had been left on Vincent’s desk.
A photograph.
Adeline sleeping at the fishing lodge.
May you like
Taken less than twenty minutes earlier.
They knew where the child was.
