Chapter 5: The Friend Who Knew Too Much
Marcus Vale had been the closest thing I had ever had to a brother.
That was what made the moment hurt.
Not because he was standing in my house.
Not because he had secrets.
Because for fourteen months, he had watched me destroy myself.
And he knew the truth.
“You knew.””
My voice was quiet.
Marcus didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I stepped closer.
“You knew my daughters remembered.””
His jaw tightened.
“I knew they saw something.””
“And you said nothing?””
“I tried.””
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You tried?””
Marcus looked away.
“I told Isabelle she needed to leave.””
My expression changed.
“Leave me?””
“Yes.””
The answer landed like a punch.
“Why?””
“Because she found out.””
“Found out what?””
Marcus looked at the open doorway.
At the empty hallway.
Then back at me.
“Your organization wasn't attacked from outside.””
I waited.
“It was being used from inside.””
I said nothing.
Because somewhere deep down, I already knew.
For months, missing shipments had appeared.
Money disappeared.
People I trusted made mistakes they never made before.
But every time I investigated, the trail vanished.
Someone was cleaning it.
Someone powerful.
“How does Isabelle connect to this?””
Marcus walked into the room.
“She noticed something before you did.””
“What?””
“She noticed people weren't afraid of you anymore.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“It means they were afraid of someone else.””
The room felt smaller.
“Who?””
Marcus looked at me.
“That is the problem.””
“What problem?””
“We don't know.””
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe someone powerful enough to infiltrate my organization has no name?””
Marcus shook his head.
“No.””
He reached into his coat.
Then slowly pulled out a small envelope.
My hand immediately moved toward my weapon.
He noticed.
“You still don't trust me.””
“My wife died.””
His face changed.
“I know.””
“No. You don't.””
I stepped closer.
“You know how many people came to my house after Isabelle died? How many people told me they were sorry? How many people touched my shoulder and said they would help?””
My voice dropped.
“And one of them helped kill her.””
Marcus didn't move.
“I know.””
I hated that he didn't defend himself.
I hated that he looked guilty.
Because it made everything harder.
“What is in the envelope?””
“Something Isabelle wanted you to see.””
I took it.
Inside was a flash drive.
“Where did she get this?””
Marcus hesitated.
“From someone inside.””
“Who?””
“She never told me.””
I looked at him.
“You're lying.””
A painful smile crossed his face.
“You always could tell.””
“Who gave it to her?””
Marcus looked toward the floor.
Then said:
“Your brother.””
The silence afterward was unbearable.
I had no brother.
Not by blood.
But there was one person I called family.
Someone who had grown up beside me.
Someone who had sat at my father's funeral.
Someone who knew every weakness I had.
“Antonio?””
Marcus nodded.
I felt something break.
Antonio Romano.
My cousin.
My second-in-command.
The person I trusted to handle everything when I wasn't there.
“No.””
Marcus looked at me sadly.
“That was Isabelle's reaction too.””
I looked at the flash drive.
“What was on it?””
“She never opened it.””
“Why?””
“Because she was scared.””
I almost laughed.
Isabelle Romano was not easily scared.
“She was scared of a flash drive?””
Marcus looked at me.
“She was scared because she knew what was inside.””
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then I heard breathing.
Slow.
Controlled.
A child's voice whispered.
“Daddy?””
My heart stopped.
“Nora?””
A pause.
Then:
“Don't come upstairs.””
My body went cold.
“Nora, where are you?””
No answer.
Then another voice.
A man's voice.
“Hello, Dominic.””
I knew that voice.
But my mind refused to accept it.
Because it was impossible.
“Who is this?””
A quiet laugh.
“You really don't remember me?””
The call ended.
I looked at Marcus.
He had heard everything.
His face had lost all color.
“Who was it?””
I didn't answer.
Because I knew.
I knew the voice.
I had heard it every day.
For years.
It was the voice of someone who stood beside me.
Someone who protected me.
Someone who knew my children.
Then the security alarm started screaming.
A red light flashed.
Guest wing.
Upstairs.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Dominic.””
I pulled away.
“What?””
His voice dropped.
“Your wife wasn't killed because she discovered a secret.””
I looked at him.
“She was killed because she was about to tell you who the secret belonged to.””
The alarm continued.
And then my phone received one final message.
A picture.
My three daughters standing in the upstairs hallway.
Taken moments ago.
Behind them stood a man.
His face was hidden.
But his hand rested on Olivia's shoulder.
The same hand that wore a gold ring.
A ring I recognized.
Because I had given it to him.
The message underneath said:
*Come upstairs alone.*
May you like
And the name attached was:
*Antonio.*
