Chapter 4 - THE CLEAN BROTHER
Dominic watched the video seven times.
The eighth time, Sadie reached over and lowered the phone.
“He’s still going to be your brother if you stop watching.”
Dominic looked at her.
For a moment she thought he might snap.
Instead, he placed the phone on the table.
“My father loved Anthony more.”
Sadie had not expected that.
Dominic leaned back.
“Anthony was nineteen when my father died. Law school. Straight A’s. Never arrested.”
“And you?”
“Twenty-four.”
He smiled without humor.
“Already useful.”
Sadie understood what useful meant in families like his.
“My father believed one son should inherit the business.”
“Which business?”
“All of them.”
“And he picked you.”
“Yes.”
“Anthony resented it?”
“No.”
Dominic shook his head.
“At least I never thought he did.”
His eyes drifted toward the chapel wall.
“I kept him out deliberately.”
“Why?”
“So he could have something clean.”
The sentence landed strangely.
Dominic had protected Anthony from his world.
Maybe too well.
“And now?”
“Now apparently the clean brother wants the dirty throne.”
Sadie hesitated.
“Maybe it’s not that simple.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what?”
“You said the assassin was supposed to die.”
“Yes.”
“Vincent was supposed to look guilty.”
“Yes.”
“Frank was supposed to kill us in the car.”
“Yes.”
Sadie counted silently.
“That’s a lot of layers.”
“Anthony is smart.”
“But why kidnap Carl?”
Dominic frowned.
“To warn me.”
“He already tried to kill you.”
That stopped him.
Sadie continued.
“If he wanted you dead, why send a video after the first two plans failed?”
Dominic studied her.
“You think he wants something else.”
“I think somebody who wanted only your death had easier opportunities.”
Frank laughed from across the room.
Dominic turned.
“Something funny?”
Frank looked at Sadie.
“She’s smarter than half your crew.”
Sadie frowned.
“Not a compliment.”
“It was.”
Dominic approached him.
“What does Anthony want?”
Frank’s face closed.
Dominic stood over him.
“Money?”
Silence.
“Control?”
Nothing.
“Territory?”
Frank looked away.
Sadie noticed.
Dominic did too.
“Not territory.”
He paused.
“Something personal.”
Frank’s jaw tightened.
Dominic became very quiet.
“Our father.”
Frank’s eyes flickered.
There.
Dominic saw it.
“What about him?”
Frank smiled.
“You should ask your mother.”
Dominic’s face changed.
His mother, Teresa Russo, lived in a gated estate outside Philadelphia.
She had left city life after her husband’s murder and rarely attended public functions.
Dominic called her.
No answer.
Her security chief did not answer either.
Dominic was already moving.
Sadie stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She blinked.
“You literally said people may try to kill me.”
“That doesn’t mean I bring you to another target.”
“Then where am I supposed to go?”
Dominic stopped.
She had a point.
Her apartment was known to Carl.
Carl had been abducted.
Lombardi’s was compromised.
Dominic’s safe houses might be compromised through Frank.
“Fine.”
He sounded offended by logic.
“But you stay in the car.”
Sadie laughed once.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Forty minutes later, three SUVs passed through the gates of Teresa Russo’s estate.
The first thing Dominic noticed was silence.
No guards.
No lights in the gatehouse.
He drew his weapon.
Sadie stayed behind him.
“I thought I was staying in the car.”
“That was before I realized the car could be trapped.”
“You have a comforting lifestyle.”
Dominic ignored her.
The front door stood open.
Inside, a lamp lay broken near the staircase.
Dominic called, “Ma?”
No answer.
He moved room to room.
Kitchen.
Library.
Sitting room.
Empty.
Then Sadie saw blood.
One drop.
Near the pantry.
Another beneath the table.
She pointed.
Dominic followed.
A narrow door led downstairs.
He opened it.
Teresa Russo sat at the bottom of the cellar steps.
Alive.
Her wrists tied.
A bruise darkened her cheek.
Dominic moved faster than Sadie had ever seen him.
“Ma.”
Teresa looked up.
“Dominic.”
He cut her free.
“Who did this?”
Her expression became complicated.
“Anthony.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Why?”
Teresa looked at Sadie.
“Who is she?”
“The waitress.”
Sadie raised a hand awkwardly.
Teresa stared.
“The one with the water?”
News traveled quickly in criminal families.
“Yes.”
Teresa actually smiled.
“Good girl.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Ma.”
Her smile vanished.
She sat at the kitchen table while Sadie pressed ice against the bruise on her cheek.
Dominic stood nearby.
“Tell me.”
Teresa hesitated.
Then spoke.
“Your father was going to change the succession.”
Dominic froze.
“What?”
“Before he died.”
“To Anthony?”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s expression became unreadable.
“Why?”
“Because he thought you were becoming too much like him.”
Sadie watched that hit.
Teresa continued.
“You were twenty-four. Angry. Brilliant. Dangerous.”
“I did what he taught me.”
“That was the problem.”
Dominic looked away.
“He wanted Anthony to take legitimate businesses. You were supposed to receive the streets and warehouses.”
“But?”
“He changed his mind.”
“Why?”
“Anthony found out.”
The room went still.
Dominic turned.
“What are you saying?”
Teresa began to cry.
“Your father’s death wasn’t a rival hit.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
Everyone in Philadelphia knew Vittorio Russo had been shot outside a private club fourteen years earlier.
Two rival soldiers were blamed.
Both were dead within weeks.
Teresa whispered:
“Anthony arranged it.”
Sadie felt cold.
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
“I found out later.”
“No.”
“He was nineteen.”
“No.”
“He was terrified your father would destroy his life.”
“So he murdered him?”
“He paid two men to frighten him.”
Teresa’s voice broke.
“They were supposed to shoot the car. Scare him. They panicked.”
Dominic stared.
“And you knew?”
“Not until three years later.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
The word struck harder than a slap.
Dominic backed away.
Teresa cried openly now.
“I thought if you knew, you’d kill him.”
“Maybe I would have.”
“You were already drowning in blood.”
“So you lied.”
“I protected my sons.”
“You protected one.”
Sadie lowered her eyes.
This was not her moment.
Then Teresa grabbed Dominic’s hand.
“Anthony has lived with that secret for fourteen years. Somebody found proof recently.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What proof?”
“Your father recorded meetings. Financial instructions. Personal letters. He had a private safe-deposit box.”
Dominic understood.
“Anthony thinks I found it.”
“Yes.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No.”
Sadie remembered something.
“Vincent.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“Why shoot Vincent?”
Dominic’s face changed.
“Because Vincent handled my father’s estate.”
Teresa looked up sharply.
“He would know about the box.”
Everything connected.
Vincent had not been targeted simply to frame him.
He had been targeted for information.
Dominic called the hospital.
Vincent had regained consciousness.
Ten minutes later, his weak voice came over speakerphone.
“Dom.”
“Tell me about my father’s box.”
Silence.
“Vincent.”
“I promised him.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Anthony is kidnapping people over it.”
A long pause.
Then Vincent whispered:
“The box isn’t at a bank.”
“Where?”
“Your father put it somewhere no Russo would voluntarily look.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“Where?”
Vincent coughed painfully.
Then said:
“A women’s shelter.”
Sadie blinked.
Dominic stared.
Vincent continued.
“Your father funded one anonymously in South Philadelphia. Saint Agnes House.”
Sadie’s stomach dropped.
She knew Saint Agnes House.
Very well.
Dominic noticed her face.
“What?”
Sadie swallowed.
“My mother lived there.”
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
Dominic stared.
Sadie continued slowly.
May you like
“So did I.”
And suddenly the broke waitress Dominic had met less than twelve hours earlier was connected to a secret his father had hidden before his murder.
