Chapter 5 - ALWAYS COME HOME
I had imagined seeing Julian alive a thousand times without knowing I was doing it.
Dreams where he walked through a doorway.
Where the morgue called and admitted a mistake.
Where I heard his laugh in a restaurant and turned fast enough to believe impossible things.
None looked like this.
He was thinner by at least forty pounds.
Scar across his left temple.
One wrist wrapped in dirty bandages.
But alive.
My brother.
Alive.
“Drop your gun,” Leonard said.
I did not.
Vincent moved half an inch.
Leonard pushed the barrel harder into Julian.
“Both of you.”
Julian looked at me.
“Don’t.”
Same idiot.
Still trying to protect me.
I lowered my weapon.
Vincent did too.
Leonard smiled.
“Kick them away.”
We obeyed.
Julian looked furious.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
I stared up at him.
“You spent eighteen months making everyone think you were dead.”
“Not exactly voluntarily.”
“Still annoying.”
A ghost of his old smile appeared.
Then pain crossed his face.
Leonard shoved him toward the stairs.
“Down.”
Julian descended slowly.
When he reached the floor, I saw the limp.
Rage became something physical inside me.
“What did you do to him?”
Leonard shrugged.
“He was stubborn.”
Vincent’s face went cold.
“You used the Caruso cipher.”
Leonard looked at him.
“Your first useful observation in years.”
“You were feeding Moretti information too.”
“Some.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
He understood.
Leonard had used Vincent’s own betrayal as camouflage.
If information leaked, Vincent blamed Moretti.
Moretti blamed Caruso.
Leonard remained invisible between them.
“How much?” I asked.
Leonard smiled.
“Enough to retire.”
“You already had millions.”
“Working for rich men is how one learns millions are not the same thing as freedom.”
“You killed my father?”
Julian looked sharply at Leonard.
Leonard sighed.
“Your father discovered accounting irregularities.”
Vincent said, “Salvatore Moretti poisoned him.”
“No.”
The word hit Vincent hardest.
Leonard smiled.
“Salvatore supplied the compound.”
Vincent went pale.
“But I administered it.”
I saw my father at dinner.
His hand suddenly shaking.
The hospital.
The doctor calling it a catastrophic stroke.
Leonard beside my mother.
Managing paperwork.
Managing everything.
“You killed him.”
“He was going to expose me.”
“And Julian?”
“Found the trust accounts.”
Julian laughed weakly.
“I always was better at math.”
I looked at him.
Even now.
Still Julian.
Leonard continued.
“He came to Vincent believing Vincent was the architect.”
Vincent looked away.
“He had good reason.”
“Yes.”
Leonard nodded.
“Vincent panicked. Staged the crash. Planned to move Julian out.”
“How did you find him?”
“Vincent’s driver worked for me.”
Vincent’s face turned murderous.
“Paolo.”
“Dead now.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Another corpse.
Another person we had trusted.
Leonard motioned with the gun.
“Enough history.”
“Why keep Julian alive?” I asked.
“Passwords.”
Julian smiled.
“I forgot them.”
Leonard struck him across the face.
I moved.
The gun swung toward me.
“Marco.”
I stopped.
Julian spat blood.
“See? Forgot again.”
I almost laughed.
Leonard did not.
“He encrypted the final transfer keys.”
“To what?”
“Caruso Holdings accounts Vincent had been diverting.”
Vincent stared.
“You couldn’t access them.”
“No.”
Leonard’s face tightened.
“Nearly four hundred million dollars.”
I looked at Vincent.
His expression confirmed it.
Not all theft.
Some slush funds.
Some covert accounts.
Some businesses never listed on official ledgers.
Four hundred million was enough to make respectable men become animals.
“And Grace?” I asked.
Leonard’s eyes changed.
Julian froze.
There.
He knew.
“Who is Grace?” Leonard asked.
I smiled.
“Wrong answer.”
Julian looked at me.
His eyes widened.
“Hannah?”
Alive, I mouthed.
His face collapsed.
“Baby?”
I nodded.
For the first time since I saw him, Julian stopped holding himself together.
His eyes filled.
“Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
He covered his mouth.
Leonard’s attention shifted between us.
That was dangerous.
“What girl?”
Julian looked at me.
I saw the decision.
Then he smiled.
“My daughter.”
Leonard stared.
“Impossible.”
“She was born after you grabbed me.”
“You told no one.”
“Correct.”
Leonard’s face changed.
A child changed inheritance.
Access.
Trusts.
Potential keys.
He stepped toward Julian.
“Where is she?”
Julian laughed.
“You think after eighteen months I’m telling you something now?”
Leonard struck him again.
I moved.
Vincent moved faster.
He drove his shoulder into Leonard.
The gun fired.
Julian fell.
I hit Leonard.
Hard.
The pistol slid away.
Vincent grabbed it.
Then stopped.
Blood spread across his shirt.
The bullet had hit him.
“Vincent.”
He looked down.
“Damn.”
Leonard lunged for the second gun at his ankle.
Julian kicked his knee.
I tackled him.
We hit the floor.
Leonard was sixty-eight.
I was forty-three.
But desperate men borrow strength from fear.
He clawed for my eyes.
I struck him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Julian shouted.
“Marco!”
I stopped.
My fist was raised.
Leonard’s face was bloodied beneath me.
One more.
Maybe two.
I could end him.
Julian looked at me.
“Don’t.”
I hated him for saying it.
I loved him for being alive enough to say anything.
Sirens rose outside.
Anthony had heard the shot.
Leonard laughed through broken lips.
“You think prison scares me?”
I stood.
“No.”
I stepped away.
“But being powerless will.”
Police flooded the warehouse.
Anthony cuffed Leonard himself.
Paramedics reached Vincent.
The bullet had gone through his side.
Painful.
Not immediately fatal.
He looked at me from the stretcher.
“You gonna visit?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ll take maybe.”
Then I turned.
Julian stood ten feet away.
Neither of us moved.
I had spent eighteen months grieving him.
Anger and relief collided so violently I could not decide whether to hug him or hit him.
He solved it.
“You look old.”
I punched him in the shoulder.
Not hard.
He winced anyway.
“Idiot.”
“Still stronger than you.”
Then I grabbed him.
My brother folded into my arms.
He smelled like sweat, blood, dust, and eighteen months I would never get back.
I held him harder.
He started crying first.
I will maintain that fact until death.
“I’m sorry.”
“Shut up.”
“I wanted to call.”
“Shut up.”
“I thought they had Hannah.”
“Julian.”
He laughed against my shoulder.
“Shutting up.”
I stepped back.
His face changed.
“Is she really alive?”
“Yes.”
“And the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Healthy?”
“Yes.”
“Does she…”
His voice broke.
“Does she look like me?”
I took out my phone.
Found the photograph I had taken of Grace chewing my tie.
Julian stared.
His knees almost gave out.
Anthony caught his arm.
“Easy.”
Julian touched the screen.
“Gray eyes.”
“Yes.”
“That onesie.”
“Hannah said you bought it.”
He laughed and cried.
“I bought three.”
“She apparently likes that one.”
“I picked yellow because Hannah said we didn’t know if it was a boy or girl.”
I swallowed.
“What’s her name?”
“Grace.”
He closed his eyes.
“Grace.”
He repeated it like a prayer.
“She knows about me?”
“She’s nine months old.”
“Right.”
He laughed shakily.
“Of course.”
Then his expression changed.
“Hannah thinks I left.”
“She knows enough now.”
“Does she hate me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she know I was alive?”
“No.”
Julian looked terrified.
More terrified than when a gun had been against his ribs.
“I need to see her.”
“You need a hospital.”
“Marco.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I have waited eighteen months.”
“So did she.”
That shut him up.
At Mount Sinai, doctors found two poorly healed rib fractures, malnutrition, nerve damage in his left hand, and signs of repeated physical abuse.
No life-threatening injuries.
When they finally allowed visitors, I brought Hannah.
Grace was asleep in her arms.
Julian was sitting upright.
The second he saw them, he stopped breathing.
Hannah stopped too.
I remained near the door.
This was not mine.
Julian whispered, “Han.”
Her eyes filled.
For a moment she looked like she might slap him.
I hoped she did.
Instead she walked slowly toward the bed.
“You were alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were alive.”
“I couldn’t reach you.”
“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“I had your baby alone.”
His face collapsed.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
Good answer.
Hannah began crying.
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
“I loved you.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“I love you.”
Then Grace woke.
She looked at him.
Julian forgot how to breathe again.
Hannah stood beside the bed.
“This is your father.”
Grace stared.
Julian held out one shaking finger.
The baby grabbed it.
He broke.
Completely.
No dignity.
No restraint.
He sobbed.
Hannah cried with him.
Grace looked mildly concerned, then tried to put his finger in her mouth.
I laughed.
Julian looked at me through tears.
“She’s perfect.”
“Yes.”
“She has my eyes.”
“Unfortunately.”
He smiled.
Then his face became serious.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“There’s something on the hard drive you need to see.”
I sighed.
“Can we have five minutes without another conspiracy?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
Julian looked toward Hannah.
Then Grace.
“Leonard wasn’t working alone.”
My body hardened.
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Someone inside Caruso Holdings.”
“Name.”
Julian swallowed.
“Your chief financial officer.”
My mind supplied it instantly.
“Elizabeth Kane?”
May you like
He nodded.
“She knows Grace exists.”
