Chapter 4 - The Brother In The Shadows
“How could you know him?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper in the dusty, empty bedroom.
Luca didn’t answer immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the small photograph, his jaw working as if he was trying to grind a stone to dust.
“Because,” Luca finally said, looking up at me, “that little boy grew up to be Marco Rossi. My most trusted lieutenant. The man who runs all of my family’s security.”
The room seemed to spin.
“Your head of security is my... my brother?”
Luca nodded slowly. “Marco grew up in the foster system. He told me he was abandoned when he was seven years old. He never mentioned a family. He never mentioned a sister.”
“Because I didn’t know he existed,” I said, looking back at the box. “My parents never spoke of him. There are no pictures of him in the family albums. Why would they adopt a child and then abandon him two years later?”
Luca’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Marco,” Luca said when the line connected. His tone was brisk, professional, giving nothing away. “I need you at the Elm Street property. Now.”
There was a pause. Then Luca hung up.
“He’s ten minutes away,” Luca said, slipping the phone away. “In the meantime, we need to find whatever else Blake left in this box. If Blake knew about Marco, it explains a lot.”
“Explains what?”
“Why Blake thought he could get away with stealing your house,” Luca said, sifting through the remaining envelopes. “If Blake found this box before the divorce, he found out about Marco. Marco has a criminal record from his youth. A long one. If Blake threatened to expose Marco's past to the wrong people, or threatened to tell you that your perfect parents abandoned a child, he could have used it as leverage.”
I felt sick. Blake had been blackmailing my secret brother?
I dug deeper into the lockbox. At the very bottom, beneath a layer of dust, was a folded piece of child’s construction paper.
I pulled it out and opened it.
It was a crayon drawing of a house with a yellow door. Two stick figures stood outside. A tall woman and a little boy. Written in clumsy, oversized letters at the top was: To Mommy. I promise I will be good so I can come home. Love, Marco.
Tears blurred my vision. “He wanted to come home,” I whispered. “Why didn't they let him?”
Before Luca could answer, headlights swept across the bedroom window. The crunch of tires sounded on the gravel driveway outside.
“He’s here,” Luca said.
I stood up, my legs trembling. I was about to meet the brother I never knew I had.
We walked out to the living room just as the front door swung open.
A tall man stepped inside. He had the same dark hair as the boy in the photo, though his face was now hardened by years of rough living. He wore a dark suit, much like Luca’s, but his posture was rigid, defensive.
Marco stopped dead when he saw me standing next to Luca.
“Boss,” Marco said, his eyes darting between us. “What is she doing here?”
“She owns this house, Marco,” Luca said quietly.
Marco’s throat bobbed. He looked at the torn floorboards down the hall, and his tough exterior instantly fractured. “You found the box.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Marco?” I asked, taking a step forward. The crayon drawing was trembling in my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were my brother?”
Marco looked at the drawing, and a look of profound, agonizing shame crossed his face.
“Because I didn’t know,” Marco said, his voice thick. “Not until Blake found me.”
I stopped. “What?”
Marco stepped fully into the room, running a hand over his face. “I was adopted when I was five. They were good to me. But I had anger issues. I was violent. I hurt kids at school. One night, I set fire to the curtains in the kitchen while your mother was asleep.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“They couldn't handle me,” Marco continued, staring at the floor. “The state took me back when I was seven. Two years later, they had you. I tracked them down when I was eighteen. I parked across the street and watched them bringing you home from school. They looked so happy. So safe. I knew if I walked back into their lives, I’d only bring my darkness with me. So I stayed away.”
He looked up, tears shining in his intense eyes. “I didn’t know Blake had found the adoption papers until he cornered me six months ago. He told me if I didn’t help him clear his gambling debts, he’d tell you everything. He’d ruin your memory of your perfect parents.”
“So you let him steal my house?” I cried.
“No!” Marco stepped forward, reaching into his coat pocket. “I didn't let him steal it. I bought it from him.”
He pulled out a folded legal document and handed it to me.
I unfolded it. It was the deed to the house.
But it wasn't signed over to a shell company. It was signed over to Marco Rossi.
“Blake forged your signature to transfer it,” Marco said. “I paid off his gambling debt to keep him quiet, and in exchange, he signed the house over to me. I was going to give it back to you, Nora. I just needed to make sure Blake was gone for good.”
I stared at the deed in shock. My house wasn't being demolished. My brother had saved it.
“Then who put up the construction fence?” Luca asked, his voice suddenly sharp. “Who is threatening to tear it down tomorrow?”
Before Marco could answer, his phone rang.
He answered it, put it on speaker, and the voice that echoed through the empty house made my blood run cold.
May you like
It was Blake.
“Did you find the box, Nora?” Blake sneered through the phone. “Did Marco play the hero? Too bad it doesn't matter. You might have the deed, Marco, but I still have the leverage. Check the lining of your mother’s winter coat in the hall closet. Because I didn't leave you the whole truth.”
