Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Salvatore did not sleep.
Neither did Tessa.
At five in the morning, Lucia brought fresh bread upstairs, took one look at Salvatore’s face, and stopped asking questions.
Milo woke to find three armed men downstairs and signed:
This is officially the worst sleepover I’ve ever attended.
Nobody laughed this time.
Salvatore replayed Brett’s video.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Tessa finally took the phone from him.
You’re not going to see a hidden answer by watching it twenty times.
He looked angry.
Give it back.
No.
Milo sat at the table.
I like her.
Salvatore glared at him.
Milo shrugged.
Tessa signed:
Tell me about your brother.
Salvatore became still.
His name was Marco. Four years older.
He looked toward the window.
He was supposed to inherit everything.
And the bomb?
He was in the car. I was outside.
Tessa’s stomach tightened.
You saw him die?
Salvatore paused.
Then:
I saw the car burn.
That was not the same answer.
He knew it now.
Tessa asked:
Was a body identified?
Another pause.
My father handled it. Closed casket.
Milo’s hands moved.
Convenient.
Salvatore turned sharply.
Milo held his ground.
Sorry. But it is.
Salvatore looked back at Tessa.
My father said there wasn’t enough left.
Tessa felt sick.
A nineteen-year-old Salvatore, newly deaf, grieving, dependent on a father who considered sign language weakness.
Easy to control.
Easy to tell what happened.
Why would Marco fake his death?
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
He hated my father.
Enough to disappear?
Maybe.
One of Salvatore’s men entered.
His name was Dominic.
Unlike the others, he signed poorly but tried.
We found Brett.
Salvatore stood.
Dominic corrected.
Found his name. Not him.
He placed a tablet on the table.
Brett’s real name:
Benjamin Caruso.
Thirty-six.
Former military intelligence contractor.
Then private security.
Then nothing for seven years.
Salvatore stared.
Tessa asked:
Connection to Marco?
Dominic nodded.
A photograph appeared.
Two men outside a private security training facility in Virginia.
Benjamin.
And beside him—
Marco Marquetti.
Alive.
The photograph was dated five years after the bombing.
Salvatore sat down.
Hard.
Tessa had never seen his control break before.
His hands actually shook.
Milo looked at her.
Neither moved.
Salvatore zoomed in.
Marco was older.
Lean.
A scar near his temple.
But unmistakable.
The same eyes.
Same mouth.
Family resemblance powerful enough to hurt.
Salvatore signed:
He was alive.
Tessa nodded.
No comforting lie.
Yes.
For years.
Yes.
His face changed.
Anger arrived.
Not at Marco first.
At his father.
My father knew.
Dominic hesitated.
Then signed badly:
Maybe.
Salvatore looked up.
Dominic continued verbally while facing him.
“We found payments from your father’s private accounts to a security firm Marco used.”
Salvatore read his lips.
His face went white.
His father had known.
Tessa saw the exact second grief became betrayal.
Salvatore stood.
He walked toward the window.
Tessa stayed seated.
Not every pain required touching.
After a long time, he signed without turning.
My father made me believe I survived when Marco didn’t.
No one answered.
He used his death to make me obedient.
Dominic looked down.
Salvatore continued.
Every time I questioned him, he said Marco died because he was careless.
Tessa felt sick.
Milo signed:
That is cruel.
Salvatore turned.
Yes.
Simple.
Raw.
Then Dominic’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face darkened.
“Boss.”
Salvatore looked at him.
“Someone used an old Marquetti access code at one of our warehouses twenty minutes ago.”
Salvatore signed:
Marco’s?
Dominic nodded.
Tessa stood.
You’re not going alone.
Salvatore looked at her sharply.
You’re not going at all.
Fine. Then neither are you.
He stared.
Milo leaned toward Dominic and signed:
This is what she does.
Dominic almost smiled.
Salvatore did not.
Tessa, this is not a restaurant argument.
Exactly. You’re angry and not thinking clearly.
His jaw tightened.
I’m thinking clearly.
You watched the same video twenty-three times.
He froze.
Milo raised his eyebrows.
She counted.
Salvatore looked at her.
Then signed:
You are infuriating.
So I’ve been told.
He exhaled.
Then did something unexpected.
He sat back down.
Dominic looked surprised.
So did everyone else.
Salvatore signed:
We send a team first.
Tessa nodded.
Good.
Two hours later, they learned the warehouse was empty.
Except for one room.
A chair.
A projector.
A message playing on a loop.
Marco.
Alive.
Older than the photograph.
He looked directly into the camera and spoke aloud while signing simultaneously.
Salvatore watched from Lucia’s kitchen.
Marco signed:
Little brother.
Salvatore’s face tightened.
If you’re seeing this, Father is dead and you finally inherited the cage.
Tessa glanced at Salvatore.
He did not move.
Marco continued.
I left because I learned what Father really was.
Then:
The bombing was not an attack from a rival family.
Salvatore’s eyes widened.
Marco signed:
Father ordered it.
Lucia gasped.
Salvatore went still.
Marco continued.
He wanted me dead. You were not supposed to be there.
Tessa’s blood ran cold.
I survived because Benjamin pulled me from the back before the fire spread. Father’s men found us. We disappeared before he could finish the job.
Salvatore’s hands clenched.
Marco:
I wanted to come back for you. Benjamin stopped me. He said Father would use you as bait.
Then Marco’s expression hardened.
He was right.
The video shifted.
Old documents.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Salvatore’s father meeting men connected to the bombing.
Marco continued.
I spent fourteen years building enough evidence to destroy everything he built.
Salvatore watched.
Then he died before I could.
Marco leaned closer to the camera.
Now you sit in his chair.
Tessa felt Salvatore’s entire body tighten.
So I need to know something.
A pause.
Are you my brother?
Another pause.
Or are you him?
The video ended.
Silence filled Lucia’s kitchen.
Salvatore stared at the black screen.
Tessa thought of the rumors.
The feared crime boss.
The scar.
The immaculate suits.
A man who inherited not only power but everyone’s assumptions about what he would become.
Salvatore signed:
He thinks I’m Father.
Tessa answered:
Do you?
His eyes snapped to hers.
She did not look away.
That isn’t what I asked.
He stared.
Then slowly:
Sometimes.
The honesty hurt.
He continued.
Sometimes I hear what my father would have ordered and realize I already gave the same order.
Tessa felt a chill.
Have you killed people?
Milo looked sharply toward her.
Salvatore did not flinch.
Long pause.
Then:
Yes.
Tessa’s stomach tightened.
She had known.
Of course she had known.
But rumors were easier than a man looking directly at you and admitting it.
She signed:
I need you to understand something.
He waited.
Knowing why you became someone does not make everything you did okay.
Salvatore nodded.
I know.
That mattered.
Tessa continued.
And if Marco is alive, he gets to hate what happened.
Another nod.
But he doesn’t get to use me or Milo to punish you.
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
No.
Milo signed:
Strong agreement from everyone.
Then Dominic’s phone rang again.
He listened.
Looked at Tessa.
She knew immediately.
“What?”
Dominic turned the screen.
A photo had been sent from Benjamin’s number.
Tessa’s apartment door.
Open.
Her living room destroyed.
Milo stood.
His face went pale.
Tessa stared.
Then noticed the object placed carefully on her kitchen table.
Her brother’s old hearing aid.
The one he stopped using years ago.
Beside it was a note.
SILENCE RUNS IN FAMILIES.
Milo’s hands began shaking.
Tessa grabbed his wrists gently.
Look at me.
He did.
We’re safe.
For now.
Yes. For now.
She refused to lie.
Salvatore watched them.
Then signed to Dominic:
Find Marco. Find Benjamin. No retaliation.
Dominic blinked.
Salvatore repeated.
No killing. I want them alive.
Tessa looked at him.
He met her eyes.
You said knowing why doesn’t excuse what I do.
She nodded.
He continued.
Then I choose differently now.
For the first time, she believed he might actually mean it.
But that night, after Milo finally slept, Tessa found Salvatore standing alone on Lucia’s rooftop.
Chicago stretched below them.
Cold.
Bright.
Restless.
She stood beside him.
He signed:
I don’t know how to meet my brother.
As Salvatore.
He looked at her.
That simple?
No.
She smiled sadly.
But simple isn’t the same as easy.
His eyes remained on her.
Then:
Why are you still here?
Tessa thought.
Fear was one answer.
Milo’s safety another.
Curiosity.
Anger.
And something she did not want to name.
She signed:
Because someone dragged my life into yours. I’m staying until I can drag it back out.
Salvatore almost smiled.
Then his face softened.
Fair.
His phone vibrated.
One message.
A location.
An abandoned church on the South Side.
And six words from Marco:
COME ALONE OR SHE PAYS.
Attached was a photograph.
Not Tessa.
Lucia.
May you like
Salvatore’s deaf aunt had disappeared from the bakery downstairs.
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