Chapter 14 - The Brother I Should Have Stopped
I did not go to the old residence that night.
Luca expected anger. He expected me to storm into the building with a gun in my hand and revenge in my heart.
He had spent his entire life studying me.
He knew how I reacted to humiliation, threats, and betrayal. He knew I preferred direct confrontation because it made me feel powerful.
This time, I did something he could never have predicted.
I called a federal investigator.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan. Three years earlier, she had offered me information about a financial investigation involving several companies connected to our organization. I had rejected her proposal and threatened to have her removed from the city.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Rossi.”
“Agent Sloan.”
“I assume you've finally decided to cooperate.”
“I have evidence concerning the bombing that killed Isabella Rossi.”
There was a long silence.
Then she said, “Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Can you prove what you're alleging?”
“Yes.”
“Then don't move the evidence. Don't contact the suspects. And don't attempt to handle this yourself.”
I almost smiled.
Everyone seemed determined to tell Vincent Rossi what to do these days.
But this time, I listened.
Over the next several hours, I arranged secure copies of the financial records, recordings, and original surveillance footage. I gave the investigator the names of the contractor and the security personnel connected to the operation.
I also gave her Anton.
He agreed to cooperate after learning that Luca had sent men into my house to take Matteo.
He didn't ask for protection for himself.
He asked for protection for his children.
I understood that fear.
By midnight, Agent Sloan had enough to begin moving against the people involved.
But there was one thing I insisted on doing personally.
I wanted to hear Luca explain himself.
We arranged a meeting at the old residence the following afternoon. The investigator placed surveillance equipment nearby, and several agents waited out of sight.
I went inside alone.
Luca stood in the study wearing the same charcoal suit he had worn at dinner.
A glass of whiskey rested on the desk.
“You came,” he said.
“I'm here.”
He glanced at the empty space beside me.
“Where's the boy?”
“Safe.”
“Then I suppose you've finally learned something.”
I remained standing.
“You killed Isabella.”
His expression didn't change.
“I didn't intend for her to die.”
“You planted a bomb beneath her car.”
“I intended to destroy your life long enough to take control of the business.”
The words were so casual that I wondered whether he understood what he was admitting.
“You could have confronted me.”
“And risk hearing no?”
“You were my brother.”
“Exactly.”
He picked up his glass.
“Do you know what it was like growing up beside you, Vincent? You were always our father's favorite. You got the company. You got the respect. You got the woman I wanted to impress everyone by marrying.”
I stared at him.
“You wanted Isabella?”
“I wanted what you had.”
“She wasn't a possession.”
“To you, she was everything. That's why she became useful.”
I moved toward him.
“You threatened her. You frightened my son. You left your sister-in-law to die.”
“She made a choice.”
He said it without hesitation.
“She could have left the car. She could have given me the files. She could have walked away.”
“She was protecting Matteo.”
“And look how well that worked.”
I struck him across the face.
He stumbled against the desk, spilling his whiskey.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Luca slowly straightened.
“There he is,” he whispered. “The great Vincent Rossi. The man who solves every problem with his fists.”
I wanted to strike him again.
I wanted to keep going until every trace of his smugness disappeared.
Instead, I heard Matteo's voice in my memory.
Are you going to change?
I lowered my hand.
Luca noticed.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
“What are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Go on. Kill me. Prove that you and I are the same.”
“No.”
His face twisted.
“Don't pretend you're better than me.”
“I'm not.”
I took the evidence bag from inside my coat and placed it on the desk.
“But I won't let my son grow up believing that the person who hurts him is the person he should fear most.”
Luca looked down at the documents.
“You think some papers will destroy me?”
“No. I think your own words will.”
I pressed a button on the recording device in my pocket.
Luca's face changed.
“You recorded this?”
“Yes.”
He lunged toward me.
The door burst open.
Federal agents flooded the room, weapons raised.
“Luca Rossi, step away from the desk!”
Luca froze.
His eyes locked on mine.
“You planned this.”
“I planned to let you talk.”
“You're betraying your own family!”
“No,” I said quietly. “You did that when you decided your ambition mattered more than a child's mother.”
The agents seized his arms and forced him against the desk.
As they read him his rights, Luca began laughing.
It was a hollow, broken sound.
He turned his head toward me.
“You still don't understand, do you?”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Isabella wasn't the only one who knew about the recordings.”
My heart missed a beat.
Luca continued, even as the agents pulled him toward the door.
“She told someone else. Someone who was there that night. Someone who watched everything happen.”
“Who?”
He smiled.
Then the agents dragged him away before he could answer.
I stood alone in the room, surrounded by the evidence that would send my brother to prison.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt the cold touch of another unanswered question.
The investigation had exposed Luca's crime, but someone else had witnessed the explosion and kept quiet.
Someone who had watched my wife die.
May you like
Someone who had allowed my son to spend fourteen months believing he was responsible.
And when I finally learned who that person was, I would have to decide whether I could ever forgive him.
