Chapter 8 - The Brother Who Killed His Brother
For eighteen years, Dominic had imagined his father’s death in fragments.
A destroyed black sedan.
Rain on asphalt.
Police lights.
His mother screaming.
His uncle Salvatore holding him by the shoulders and telling him not to look.
Dominic had been twenty.
Too young to understand that grief could become architecture.
Six years later, after the family business fractured and rivals closed in, Dominic took control.
He built everything around the lesson he believed his father’s death taught him.
Trust no one.
Love no one.
Need no one.
Now the man who had helped bury Antonio Castellano sat inside a hospital chapel and calmly admitted he had killed him.
Dominic’s hands curled.
“Say it again.”
Salvatore looked almost tired.
“I arranged the accident.”
Dominic moved.
His hand wrapped around Salvatore’s throat.
The older man hit the wall.
The cane fell.
“You murdered him.”
Salvatore struggled for air.
“Dominic—”
“You stood beside his coffin.”
His grip tightened.
“You held my mother while she cried.”
Salvatore’s face reddened.
“You called me son.”
Dominic could kill him.
One movement.
One decision.
It would be easy.
Then Luca’s tiny fingers flashed through his memory.
Amelia’s voice.
Grow faster.
Dominic released him.
Salvatore collapsed into a chair coughing.
“You should have killed me,” he rasped.
“No.”
Dominic stood over him.
“That’s the difference between us.”
Salvatore smiled weakly.
“You think mercy makes you better?”
“No.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“Consequences do.”
He opened the chapel door.
Two federal agents stood outside.
Monroe behind them.
Dominic looked at her.
“He confessed.”
Salvatore’s face changed.
Monroe held up a phone.
“Recorded.”
Dominic glanced at the small security camera in the chapel corner.
For the first time that day, he appreciated surveillance.
Agents moved toward Salvatore.
The old man rose.
“You think this ends with me?”
Dominic said nothing.
“Vane has copies.”
Monroe stopped.
“Copies of what?”
Salvatore smiled.
“The ledger.”
Dominic’s stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“You destroyed me. Why would I help?”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Because the same men who hired Peter will kill you the moment you stop being useful.”
Salvatore hesitated.
Dominic saw it.
There were more.
Not merely Salvatore and Vane.
A network.
Board members.
Crime partners.
Possibly public officials named in the ledger.
People with much more to lose than twelve billion dollars.
Monroe understood too.
“How many copies?”
Salvatore looked at her.
“Enough.”
Agents handcuffed him.
As they led him away, Salvatore turned toward Dominic.
“You’ll lose the company.”
Dominic’s response surprised everyone.
“Take it.”
Salvatore stopped.
“The money.”
“Take it.”
“The ports.”
“Take them.”
Salvatore stared.
Dominic gestured toward the elevator.
“My son is upstairs.”
Understanding entered Salvatore’s face.
For the first time, he looked defeated.
Dominic turned away.
He went back to Amelia.
She was awake.
Pale.
Exhausted.
Beautiful.
Dominic stopped at the doorway.
Amelia looked at him.
“You look terrible.”
He smiled.
“So do you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I meant—”
She raised an eyebrow.
Dominic immediately reconsidered.
“You look extraordinary.”
“Better.”
He approached the bed.
For several seconds, neither knew what to say.
Eight months of silence stood between them.
Along with a child.
A kidnapping.
A bank explosion.
And approximately twelve billion dollars in legal complications.
Amelia broke first.
“Luca?”
“Good.”
“Did you hold him?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes softened.
“How was it?”
Dominic looked down at his hands.
“He grabbed my finger.”
“And?”
“I understand dictators now.”
Amelia blinked.
“What?”
“I would apparently invade countries for him.”
She laughed.
Then winced.
Dominic’s smile vanished.
“Pain?”
“I just had surgery.”
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“Sit.”
He sat instantly.
Amelia stared.
“That’s new.”
“What?”
“You listening.”
“I’m experimenting.”
“Keep experimenting.”
She reached for his hand.
Dominic looked at their fingers.
Then at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Amelia’s expression softened.
“For the bank?”
“For eight months ago.”
“Dominic—”
“No.”
He took a breath.
“I need to say it correctly.”
She waited.
“I loved you. I was afraid. So I made decisions for both of us because control was easier than honesty.”
Amelia’s eyes filled.
“I told myself I was protecting you. Really, I was protecting myself from the possibility of watching someone I loved die.”
He swallowed.
“My father died because he trusted family. I spent years believing his mistake was loving them.”
Amelia squeezed his hand.
“I was wrong.”
“What was his mistake?”
“Trusting the wrong person.”
She nodded.
“And you?”
“I trusted fear.”
Silence.
Then Amelia whispered, “I should have told you about Luca.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I understand why you didn’t.”
“I was angry.”
“You had reason.”
“I was also terrified.”
“Of me.”
She did not deny it.
Dominic’s face tightened.
“That’s the part I’ll have to live with.”
“You can change it.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Amelia looked toward the NICU hallway.
“By not deciding what happens next without asking me.”
Dominic nodded.
“What do you want?”
The question itself seemed difficult for him.
Amelia noticed.
“I want my flower shop back.”
“Done.”
She gave him a look.
He corrected himself.
“Would you like help getting your flower shop back?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“I want my own apartment.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
She saw it.
“Dominic.”
“Your own apartment?”
“Yes.”
“With security.”
“We’ll discuss security.”
“That neighborhood has terrible—”
“Ask.”
He gritted his teeth.
“Would you consider security?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Six.”
“Two.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Three.”
She smiled.
“I want you to learn how to change diapers.”
Dominic stared.
“I employ people.”
“Dominic.”
“Yes. Diapers.”
“And bottles.”
“Yes.”
“And you do not get to buy Luca a building.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was considering a trust.”
“He was born six hours ago.”
“Compound growth matters.”
She laughed.
Dominic smiled.
Then Amelia grew serious.
“What happens to you?”
He knew what she meant.
The ledger.
The FBI.
His empire.
“I cooperate.”
Her eyes widened.
“With the FBI?”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Prison?”
“Possible.”
Amelia’s face changed.
“No.”
Dominic touched her hand.
“I spent years believing laws were inconveniences for less powerful people.”
“Dominic…”
“There are things in that ledger I’m responsible for.”
He did not romanticize it.
Did not pretend every dollar had been clean.
Did not pretend fear had not been part of his business.
“I can make deals. Give testimony. Turn over assets.”
“All twelve billion?”
“Probably not all.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m competitive.”
She laughed despite herself.
Dominic leaned closer.
“But if the choice is between the empire and being someone Luca can look at without shame…”
He glanced toward the NICU.
“The empire loses.”
Amelia stared at him.
“Who are you?”
“I’m having a complicated week.”
A knock came.
Agent Monroe entered.
“I hate to interrupt.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You enjoy it.”
“A little.”
She held a tablet.
“We have a problem.”
“Vane?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Missing.”
“Since when?”
“His driver found his townhouse empty thirty minutes ago.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Aircraft?”
“None under his name.”
“He won’t use his name.”
“We figured.”
Amelia looked between them.
“Who is Vane?”
Dominic answered.
“My family attorney.”
“The one working with Salvatore?”
“Yes.”
Monroe set the tablet down.
“Before he disappeared, Vane sent fourteen encrypted packages.”
“To whom?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Contents?”
“Portions of the ledger.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Monroe continued.
“Within twenty minutes, three people named in those files withdrew large amounts of money. One private aircraft departed Teterboro. Two phones went dark.”
“They’re running.”
“Some are.”
“And the others?”
Monroe’s expression became serious.
“We believe they’re cleaning evidence.”
Dominic understood.
Witnesses.
Employees.
Anyone who could corroborate the ledger.
Amelia saw his face.
“What?”
“People are going to die.”
Monroe nodded.
“Unless we move quickly.”
Dominic stood.
Amelia grabbed his hand.
“You were shot.”
“I’ve been treated.”
“You had a baby six hours ago.”
“I did very little.”
“You caught him.”
“That was significant.”
“You’re not leaving.”
Dominic looked at her.
Old instinct said command.
New instinct forced a question.
“What do you want me to do?”
Amelia hesitated.
She understood the stakes.
“You can help?”
“Yes.”
“More than the FBI?”
Monroe answered.
“In certain circles? Unfortunately.”
Amelia looked at Dominic.
“Then help.”
He squeezed her hand.
“But come back.”
“I will.”
“No disappearing because you decide danger means I’m better without you.”
Dominic held her gaze.
“Never again.”
He kissed her forehead.
At the door, Monroe stopped him.
“There’s something else.”
Dominic looked back.
She turned the tablet.
A photograph filled the screen.
Charles Vane entering a private terminal.
Beside him stood a woman.
Dominic stared.
His face emptied.
Amelia noticed.
“Who is she?”
Dominic could not answer at first.
Because he knew that face.
Older now.
Hair silver instead of black.
But unmistakable.
The woman in the photograph had vanished seventeen years earlier.
The woman Dominic had been told abandoned the family after his father died.
His mother.
Elena Castellano.
Alive.
Dominic whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Monroe looked at him.
May you like
“Apparently not.”
And somewhere inside the hospital, Luca began to cry.
