Chapter 7 - THE BROTHER WHO NEVER LEFT
It was Daniel’s own brother, Vincent, holding a terrified five-year-old boy by the collar.
Vincent Moretti. The black sheep. The brother who was supposedly exiled to Italy twenty years ago for stealing from the family.
He looked older, his face scarred and weather-beaten, but his eyes held the same cruel amusement I remembered from my wedding day.
“Hello, Susan,” Vincent called out, the rain flattening his gray hair. “You haven't aged a day.”
Victoria scrambled to her feet, her hands outstretched toward the little boy. “Leo! Let him go, Vincent! I did what you asked!”
Vincent shoved the boy toward one of his men, who gripped the child’s shoulder. Leo was crying silently, clutching a small stuffed bear.
“You didn't do what I asked, Vic,” Vincent said smoothly. “You were supposed to get the deeds. Yet here is my dear sister-in-law, standing in the rain, looking very much like she holds all the cards.”
I stood my ground. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Vincent,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You’re working for the Rossi family now?”
“I am the Rossi family now, Susan. The old Don is dead. I married his eldest daughter. And I came back to take what my little brother stole from us.”
He took a step forward, his men raising their weapons.
“Give me the papers, Susan.”
“Where is Daniel?” I demanded.
Vincent smiled. A terrifying, hollow smile. “Daniel is currently tied to a chair in the basement of his own waterfront casino. He’s taking a very severe beating. He refused to give up your location. Very romantic, for a man who kicked you out of your own house.”
“He didn't kick me out,” I said, the truth finally solidifying in my chest. “He tried to push me away so you wouldn't find me.”
“And yet, here you are.” Vincent held out his hand. “The deeds.”
I reached into my coat. My fingers curled around the rolled-up parchment.
If I gave him the deeds, I gave him total control. He would kill Daniel, kill me, and probably kill Victoria to tie up loose ends.
But if I didn't give him the deeds, he would kill the five-year-old boy.
I looked at little Leo. He was Emily’s husband’s child. My daughter’s stepson, in a twisted, terrible way. He was innocent.
“Let the boy and Victoria go,” I said. “Put them in my car. Once they drive away, you get the papers.”
Vincent laughed. “You aren't in a position to negotiate, sweetheart.”
“I am the only one who can legally transfer this property!” I shouted over the rain. “You kill me, the city seizes the piers for unpaid back taxes. You get nothing.”
Vincent’s smile vanished. He knew I was right.
He nodded at his men. The guard shoved little Leo forward. Victoria ran, scooping the boy into her arms, sobbing into his hair.
“Go to my car,” I told her. I tossed her my keys. “Get out of here.”
Victoria looked at me. The hatred was gone, replaced by absolute awe. “Susan… why?”
“Because mothers protect children,” I said. “Go.”
She didn't hesitate. She threw Leo into the backseat, started the engine, and peeled out of the pier.
I was alone with Vincent and six armed men.
“Very noble,” Vincent sneered. “Now. The papers.”
I pulled the deeds from my coat. I held them up in the rain.
“There’s one more condition, Vincent.”
“I’m losing my patience, Susan.”
“You take me to Daniel. I’m not handing over my property until I see my husband alive.”
Vincent stared at me. Then, he chuckled. “Bring her.”
Two men grabbed my arms, dragging me toward the town cars. I was shoved into the backseat, wet and shivering.
We drove in silence for five minutes until we reached the back loading dock of the Moretti Casino.
They dragged me down a flight of concrete stairs into a damp, windowless basement.
The smell of copper and sweat hit me first.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a single swinging bulb, was Daniel.
He was tied to a steel chair. His beautiful suits were ruined. His face was unrecognizable—swollen, bleeding, and gasping for air.
“Daniel!” I screamed, ripping free from the guards and running to him.
I fell to my knees, taking his broken face in my hands. His eyes fluttered open.
When he saw me, a sob tore from his throat.
“Sue,” he choked out. “No… why didn't you run?”
“I couldn't leave you,” I whispered, wiping the blood from his mouth.
Vincent walked slowly down the stairs.
“Touching,” he said. He pulled a gun from his holster and pressed it to the back of Daniel’s head.
“Sign the papers, Susan. Or you can wash his brains out of your hair.”
I stood up, pulling a pen from my purse. I placed the deeds on a wooden crate.
But as I touched the pen to the paper, a deafening crash echoed from the top of the stairs.
Gunfire erupted.
Vincent’s men shouted in panic as they were cut down by a barrage of bullets from the doorway.
Vincent spun around, raising his gun, but a massive figure stepped out of the shadows and fired first.
Vincent dropped his weapon, clutching a shattered shoulder, screaming in agony.
The smoke cleared.
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Standing at the top of the stairs, holding a smoking shotgun, was Marcus.
TITLE: The End of the Empire
