Chapter 4 - Vincent’s Second Life
Dominic tackled Vincent as the first bullet shattered the wall behind them.
Tommy fired toward the hidden doorway.
Clara dropped behind the desk.
“Stay down!”
Three more shots.
Then silence.
Dominic reached the corridor.
Empty.
The shooter had vanished.
On the carpet lay one shell casing.
Tommy picked it up with a handkerchief.
A symbol had been etched into the brass.
A crown.
Vincent saw it.
His expression changed.
Dominic caught it.
“You recognize that.”
Vincent remained silent.
“Enough secrets.”
Vincent stared at the casing.
“The Crown Club.”
Tommy swore.
Clara looked between them.
“What is that?”
Dominic answered.
“A private organization our father refused to join.”
“Organization?”
“A room where powerful men convince themselves laws are for other people.”
Vincent shook his head.
“It’s more than that.”
He admitted he had infiltrated the Crown Club months earlier.
The men Clara had seen him speaking with at the gala were members.
He had been collecting evidence.
Clara stared at him.
“So the dance…”
“I saw someone following you. Dancing kept you in public.”
“You squeezed my hand.”
“To stop you from reaching your bag. The man behind you was watching.”
Clara’s anger softened.
“You were protecting me.”
Vincent smiled weakly.
“Badly, apparently.”
Dominic looked at his brother differently.
Vincent had not betrayed him.
He had been fighting alone.
Just as Dominic always had.
Their father’s prediction had been right.
Vincent tried to protect Dominic.
Dominic tried to protect everyone.
And Salvatore had used both instincts against them.
They replayed the cassette.
The damaged section could not be recovered.
But Clara found something better.
A reference number.
Account 7719.
She searched the paper ledgers.
Nothing.
Then she remembered her mother’s habit.
Numbers were honest.
Unless people forced them to lie.
She reversed the digits.
A ledger opened.
Inside was a photograph.
Salvatore stood beside Enzo.
Between them was a woman.
Dominic recognized her immediately.
His mother.
Isabella Castellano.
Dead for eighteen years.
On the photograph, someone had written:
FOUNDER.
Dominic’s stomach tightened.
Vincent whispered, “Mom?”
Clara turned the photograph over.
There was an address.
And today’s date.
Beneath it were four words.
MIDNIGHT. COME FOR THE TRUTH.
Dominic checked his watch.
11:54.
They had six minutes.
The address belonged to an abandoned church three blocks away.
They arrived at midnight.
Candles burned inside.
Someone had expected them.
At the altar sat a single wheelchair.
Empty.
Clara approached.
A leather folder rested on the seat.
She opened it.
Medical records.
Isabella Castellano.
Dominic read the final page.
His mother had not died from cancer as he had been told.
She had been poisoned.
Slowly.
For months.
Vincent stepped backward.
“No.”
Then a woman’s voice came from the confessional.
“She discovered what Salvatore was building.”
Dominic aimed his gun.
“Come out.”
The door opened.
An elderly woman emerged.
Clara gasped.
She knew her.
“Mrs. Alvarez?”
The woman had been Clara’s childhood neighbor.
She looked at Clara with tears in her eyes.
“Your mother told me one day you would come.”
She handed Clara a sealed letter.
Evelyn’s handwriting covered the front.
Clara opened it.
Her eyes raced across the page.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Dominic asked.
Clara looked up.
“My mother said your mother created the original ledger.”
“Why?”
“To protect her sons.”
Dominic felt cold.
“From whom?”
Mrs. Alvarez answered.
“From their father.”
Vincent went still.
The church doors slammed shut behind them.
May you like
A lock turned from the outside.
Then smoke began pouring beneath the doors.
