CHAPTER 6 — “The Brother Who Was Never Dead”
CHAPTER 6 — “The Brother Who Was Never Dead”
Glass exploded across the study.
The sniper's bullet buried itself deep into the mahogany wall exactly where Dominic's head had been a heartbeat earlier.
"Down!"
Dominic tackled me behind the desk.
Another shot shattered the window.
The lights overhead burst into sparks.
Outside, guards scattered across the courtyard, searching for a target they couldn't see.
Viktor charged into the room, pistol drawn.
"Boss!"
"North ridge!"
Dominic barked.
"Three hundred yards!"
Viktor didn't hesitate.
"Move!"
Within seconds, security teams flooded into the rain.
The sniper had already disappeared.
Whoever had fired that shot hadn't come to kill me.
Or even Dominic.
They had come to send a message.
I can reach you whenever I want.
The study looked like a war zone.
Broken glass covered the floor.
Rain poured through the shattered window.
Dominic picked up the damaged family portrait.
The bullet had ripped straight through Marco Russo's smiling face.
Not Dominic's.
Marco's.
Someone had aimed with impossible precision.
I looked at the ruined photograph.
"That wasn't an accident."
"No."
Dominic's voice was cold.
"It was a signature."
He gently brushed shattered glass from the frame.
"My brother always believed threats were more valuable than corpses."
"You really think he's alive?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked to the fireplace and stared into the dying flames.
"When we were children..."
he said quietly,
"Marco protected me from everything."
His expression darkened.
"Until he learned fear could be sold."
He poured two cups of coffee.
Neither of us drank.
"My father built the Russo empire."
"He intended for Marco to inherit it."
"But Marco wanted more."
"More money?"
Dominic gave a bitter smile.
"More power."
"He believed loyalty was weakness."
"When our father died..."
"He began selling information."
"First to rival families."
"Then to politicians."
"Then to anyone who could afford it."
I frowned.
"So why fake his death?"
"Because I discovered the truth."
Dominic looked at the rain outside.
"I gave him two choices."
"Disappear forever..."
"...or face the consequences."
"You let him go."
"I let my brother live."
His jaw tightened.
"And Isabella begged me to."
The memory clearly hurt him.
"She believed people deserved one last chance."
He closed his eyes.
"I thought mercy had won."
"It hadn't."
A soft knock interrupted us.
The oldest triplet stood in the doorway.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't frightened.
She simply held something in her tiny hand.
"Daddy."
Dominic immediately knelt.
"What is it?"
She opened her palm.
A silver cufflink.
Oval.
Engraved with the letter M.
"I found it."
"Where?"
She pointed toward the nursery.
"Under Mommy's music box."
Dominic's face froze.
He recognized it instantly.
"So do I," he whispered.
"It belonged to Marco."
The room became silent.
The music box had been hidden since Isabella's death.
If Marco's cufflink had been underneath it...
Then he had been inside the nursery.
After Isabella died.
The implication was horrifying.
Someone hadn't stolen the music box.
Someone had found it...
Opened it...
And left behind proof they had been there.
Marco hadn't simply survived.
He had returned to the mansion.
Viktor rushed into the room.
"We caught one."
Dominic stood immediately.
"Alive?"
"Barely."
The captured attacker sat tied to a chair in the estate's underground security room.
His shoulder was bandaged.
Blood stained the concrete beneath him.
He laughed when Dominic entered.
"I wondered how long it would take."
Dominic remained standing.
"Who sent you?"
"You already know."
"No."
The prisoner smiled.
"You just don't want to believe it."
Dominic nodded toward Viktor.
Water splashed across the prisoner's face.
Still smiling.
"You worked for Marco."
"I worked..."
The man corrected,
"...for the future."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"What does he want?"
The prisoner's smile widened.
"The same thing he's always wanted."
"The throne."
Dominic leaned closer.
"My brother died."
"No."
The man chuckled.
"He evolved."
He looked directly at me.
"And you..."
His smile became unsettling.
"...you're the interesting one."
I felt a chill crawl down my spine.
"What does that mean?"
"He never expected the nanny."
"I'm not—"
"The cleaning girl."
He shrugged.
"Whatever you are."
"You changed the timetable."
Dominic stepped between us.
"What timetable?"
The prisoner's eyes gleamed.
"The girls."
"What about them?"
"They were never supposed to speak again."
Silence.
Dominic's fists slowly clenched.
"What did you do?"
The man laughed.
A genuine laugh.
"You still think trauma silenced them?"
No one moved.
He leaned back in the chair.
"They didn't stop talking because they were afraid."
"They stopped..."
His grin widened.
"...because someone taught them that speaking would get people killed."
The room went cold.
I stared at him.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying..."
He looked directly at Dominic.
"...your daughters didn't witness their mother's murder."
"They witnessed something much worse."
Dominic grabbed the front of the man's shirt.
"What did they see?"
The prisoner's smile vanished.
"They saw who pulled the trigger."
The words echoed through the room.
Dominic slowly released him.
"No."
"Oh yes."
"The little girls saw his face."
"They've always known."
"They just couldn't tell anyone."
A horrifying realization washed over me.
The lullabies...
The drawings...
The gradual return of their voices...
They hadn't simply been healing.
They had been trying to remember safely.
The prisoner whispered one final sentence.
"And now..."
"They're finally ready to tell the truth."
Before anyone could react...
A sharp beep echoed from beneath the prisoner's chair.
Viktor's eyes widened.
"Bomb!"
Dominic shoved me toward the door.
"Run!"
The explosion tore through the underground room with deafening force.
Concrete cracked.
Smoke engulfed everything.
The blast threw all of us into the hallway.
When the dust finally settled, the prisoner was gone.
Nothing remained of him except twisted metal and scorched concrete.
Someone had silenced him forever.
But not before he revealed the one secret that changed everything.
Upstairs, three four-year-old girls were sleeping.
And somewhere inside their fractured memories...
Was the face of their mother's killer.
Meanwhile, miles away in an abandoned church on the edge of the city, a man watched live security footage from hidden cameras still buried inside the Russo estate.
He smiled as the explosion filled the screen.
Then he lifted an old family photograph.
His thumb rested over Dominic's face.
"Little brother," he said softly.
"You've finally started asking the right questions."
He turned the photograph over.
Written in Isabella's handwriting were seven chilling words:
"Never let Marco be alone with the girls."
Marco Russo folded the photograph, slipped it into his coat, and walked toward a waiting black helicopter.
May you like
His next destination...
The Russo mansion.
