THE BROTHER WHO NEVER TRULY LEFT

“She called him Dominic.”

The name hung in the damp night air, suffocating everything around it.

Luca didn’t speak. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb moving rapidly over the screen. He bypassed the estate security desk and dialed a direct number.

“Lock down the main gates,” Luca ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Nobody leaves the property. Nobody enters. If a car approaches the perimeter, shoot the tires.”

He hung up and looked at me. “Can he be moved?”

“He needs an ambulance, Mr. Moretti. The blade missed his liver, but he’s losing blood fast.”

“I’ll call the private paramedics.” Luca stood up. He looked at Vanessa, still framed in the broken stable window. “Get back to the main house. Take Diane with you. Lock yourselves in the library and do not open the door for anyone except me.”

Vanessa didn’t argue. For once, the manipulative bride was paralyzed by a game she no longer controlled. She grabbed Diane’s arm, and they disappeared into the shadows.

Luca crouched beside me again. “You’re staying with him until the medics arrive, Caroline.”

“What are you going to do?”

“My father lives in the east wing of the estate,” Luca said, his eyes hard as flint. “He’s going to tell me why his men just kidnapped my nephew.”

“Wait.” I grabbed Luca’s sleeve. My hands were covered in the guard’s blood, but I didn’t care. “The guard said the woman was wearing a heavy black wool coat.”

Luca frowned. “So?”

“So it’s fifty degrees outside,” I said. “Nobody is wearing heavy winter wool tonight. Except for one person.”

Luca’s expression shifted as he processed the information.

“Who?”

“Mrs. Gable,” I said. “Your father’s private nurse. She wears a thick black wool coat every night because she says the east wing is always freezing.”

Luca didn’t say another word. He turned and sprinted toward the main house.

Ten minutes later, the private medical team arrived and loaded the guard onto a stretcher. Once they were gone, I stood alone in the mud outside the stables. My side ached fiercely, and my uniform was ruined. I should have gone home to my daughter.

But I couldn’t leave.

Leo was just a boy. A boy who had carried my laundry and asked me how Maya was doing in school. He was caught in the middle of a mafia war, and I was the only person besides Luca who seemed to actually care about the child, not just the bloodline.

I wiped my bloody hands on the grass and ran toward the east wing.

The east wing was massive, dark, and silent. It was where the patriarch, Vincenzo Moretti, lived in medically assisted isolation.

When I reached the heavy oak doors, they were already open.

I stepped inside.

The hallway was lined with old oil paintings and expensive antiques, but the air felt heavy and stale. I heard voices coming from the library at the end of the hall.

I crept closer, pressing myself against the wall, listening.

“You’ve gone too far this time, old man,” Luca’s voice echoed, tight with suppressed rage.

“I protected this family!” Vincenzo Moretti shouted back. His voice was frail, raspy, but still carried the absolute authority of a man who had ruled the Chicago underworld for forty years.

I peeked around the doorframe.

Vincenzo sat in his motorized wheelchair by the fireplace. He looked frail, his face lined with age and sickness. Luca stood across from him, holding the silver pocket watch.

“You protected the family by kidnapping a seventeen-year-old boy?” Luca demanded.

“He isn’t just a boy, Luca! He is Dominic’s blood!”

“And Dominic is dead! Because of you!”

“I didn’t kill your brother!” Vincenzo slammed his fist onto the armrest of his wheelchair. “I swear to God, Luca, I didn’t kill him. But someone did. And those same people are coming for the boy.”

“Who?”

Vincenzo coughed violently into a handkerchief. He looked exhausted.

“The Colombians,” the old man wheezed. “Seventeen years ago, Dominic stole something from them. Something worth millions. They blew up his boat to get it back. When they realized Vanessa had survived and taken the child, they spent a decade hunting her.”

Luca stared at his father. “And you knew this?”

“I found out last month,” Vincenzo said. “When Vanessa brought the boy to the estate to work in the stables, she painted a target on our backs. The cartel found him, Luca. They were coming for him tonight.”

“So you sent Mrs. Gable to take him?”

“She isn’t just a nurse,” Vincenzo said coldly. “She’s a cleaner. She’s taking him to a safe house.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you that. If you know, you’ll try to bring him back. And if he comes back, the cartel will burn this estate to the ground.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I stepped into the doorway. Both men snapped their heads toward me.

“Then why did Mrs. Gable leave her coat in the attic?” I asked.

Luca frowned. “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

“I’m doing my job,” I said, walking into the room. I looked at Vincenzo. “Mrs. Gable makes me clean the attic every Thursday. But tonight, I saw her heavy black wool coat thrown over a chair in the third-floor storage space. If she was taking Leo to a safe house, why would she leave her coat behind?”

Vincenzo’s face went completely pale.

“She wouldn’t,” the old man whispered.

Luca pulled his gun. “Where does the attic lead?”

“To the roof,” I said. “And the service elevator that goes directly down to the underground garage.”

Luca didn’t wait. He sprinted out of the library, heading for the stairs.

I looked at Vincenzo. For the first time, the terrifying mafia boss looked like a helpless, terrified grandfather.

“She’s not a cleaner, is she?” I asked quietly.

Vincenzo closed his eyes. “No. She’s a traitor.”

I ran after Luca.

We reached the third-floor attic. The heavy black wool coat was still draped over an antique chair.

Luca kicked the door to the roof open.

The cold wind whipped across the flat expanse of the estate’s roof.