Chapter 4 - The Dead Brother’s Name Returns
I did not sleep that night.
Sleep required trust.
Trust required believing that when you closed your eyes, the world around you remained the same.
But my world had changed.
A hidden drive.
A seven-year-old recording.
My dead brother’s voice coming from a device someone had secretly placed inside my home.
And a message from an unknown number reminding me that secrets were dangerous.
The worst part was not that someone knew about Daniel’s evidence.
The worst part was that they knew I had found it.
I sat in my office until sunrise, replaying the recording over and over.
Every time, I heard something different.
Not because the words changed.
Because I changed.
Seven years ago, I would have dismissed Daniel’s concerns.
I would have told him he was paranoid.
Emotional.
Too suspicious of people.
That was what everyone said about him after he died.
Daniel Duca was brilliant.
But reckless.
A man who trusted his instincts too much.
A man who saw enemies everywhere.
That was the story.
A convenient story.
Now I wondered who had written it.
The first light of morning entered through the windows as Jonah stood across from my desk.
"You need to leave."
I looked at him.
"No."
"You have been sitting here for six hours."
"I know."
"You haven't eaten."
"I know."
"You haven't slept."
I looked back at the screen.
Daniel's face was frozen on the monitor.
A younger version of my brother.
Alive.
Confident.
Before everything was taken from him.
"Tell me something, Jonah."
"Yes?"
"If someone wanted to hide evidence for seven years, why leave it where I could find it?"
Jonah thought for a moment.
"Maybe they didn't."
I looked at him.
"Explain."
"Maybe they didn't want you to find the drive."
"Then why was it there?"
"Maybe someone else wanted you to find it."
The answer stayed between us.
Because it changed everything.
There were two possibilities.
Someone was trying to expose the truth.
Or someone was setting a trap.
And I had no idea which one scared me more.
Sophia Carter was discharged from the hospital two days later.
I made sure she did not return to the Duca estate.
Not because I wanted to protect myself.
Because I wanted to protect her.
She moved into one of my family's private guest houses outside the city.
A place guarded around the clock.
A place nobody connected to the mansion knew about.
Emma was there too.
When I visited, she was sitting on the floor drawing.
The picture was simple.
A house.
Three people.
A woman.
A little girl.
And a tall man wearing black.
I looked at it.
"Who is this?"
Emma looked up.
"You."
I almost smiled.
"Why am I there?"
She shrugged.
"Because you saved Mommy."
Children had a strange way of saying things adults spent years avoiding.
Simple.
Honest.
Dangerously honest.
Sophia watched from the kitchen doorway.
"She likes you."
I looked at her.
"She barely knows me."
Sophia smiled sadly.
"Children know who makes them feel safe."
I looked away.
Safety was not something I was used to giving.
Or receiving.
"Tell me about Daniel."
Sophia's expression changed.
The smile disappeared.
"He was kind."
Nobody described my brother that way anymore.
Not publicly.
Not after his death.
"He visited my mother when she was sick," Sophia continued. "He paid for her treatment."
"Why?"
"Because that's who he was."
I looked down.
Daniel had always been different from me.
I learned to survive by building walls.
He survived by opening doors.
"How did you know about his investigation?"
Sophia hesitated.
"Because he came to me."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't trust anyone else."
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
"My brother trusted a housekeeper but not his own family?"
Sophia looked at me carefully.
"He trusted you."
I looked up.
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
"Because he was trying to protect you."
I said nothing.
Daniel protecting me.
Even after death.
The thought was difficult to accept.
"What did he find?"
Sophia looked toward Emma.
Then lowered her voice.
"Money transfers."
"From where?"
"Companies connected to the Duca organization."
My expression remained calm.
Inside, everything shifted.
"My family?"
"I don't know exactly."
"You said someone inside my family was stealing from him."
Sophia nodded.
"He believed someone was moving money through fake companies."
"Who?"
She looked afraid.
"Your uncle."
The room became silent.
My uncle.
Marco Duca.
My father's younger brother.
The man who had helped run the family business after my father's death.
The man who had attended Daniel's funeral.
The man who had hugged me and told me we needed to stay strong.
The man who had looked me in the eyes and said:
"Accidents happen."
I had never questioned him.
Not once.
"Do you have proof?"
Sophia shook her head.
"Daniel did."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
I watched her.
"You know something."
She looked away.
"I know he hid something before he died."
"Where?"
"He told me if anything happened to him, the truth would come back to the person who needed it most."
I frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It did to him."
I stood.
"Did he mention my father?"
Sophia became still.
That was enough.
I noticed.
"You know something about my father."
"No."
"Sophia."
She closed her eyes.
"I never met your father."
"Then why did you react?"
She didn't answer.
Because she knew she had already said too much.
That evening, Vivian came to the estate.
I was not surprised.
I was waiting.
She entered my office wearing a cream coat and carrying the expression of someone who had practiced what she wanted to say.
"We need to talk."
I poured myself a drink.
"About what?"
"About us."
I looked at her.
"Is that really what you want to discuss?"
Her expression hardened.
"What else would we discuss?"
"The woman who almost died in your presence."
"Again?"
The frustration in her voice was real.
"You are still doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like I am a criminal."
I placed the glass down.
"Then help me understand."
"I already explained."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You gave me a story."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And you don't believe it."
"No."
The honesty surprised her.
"You don't trust me anymore."
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was worse.
I trusted the version of Vivian I thought I knew.
I did not trust the woman standing in front of me.
"Alessandro."
Her voice softened.
"Do you really think I would hurt someone?"
I looked at her.
"I think you know more than you are telling me."
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
"You don't understand what your family is capable of."
The words were quiet.
But they confirmed everything.
"Your family?"
She realized her mistake.
"My mistake."
"No."
I stepped forward.
"You said my family."
Vivian looked away.
"Forget it."
"I can't."
"Alessandro, please."
Please.
That word from Vivian was rare.
I had never heard fear in her voice before.
Not until now.
"Who are you protecting?"
She looked at me.
And for one second...
I thought she would tell me.
I thought the woman I planned to marry would finally choose the truth.
Then her phone rang.
The same thing happened.
The same fear.
The same hesitation.
She looked at the screen.
I saw a name.
Before she turned it away.
Marco.
My uncle.
My blood.
My family.
Vivian answered.
"Hello?"
She walked toward the window.
Her voice lowered.
I could not hear everything.
But I heard enough.
"No, he doesn't know everything."
A pause.
Then:
"I said I would handle it."
My chest tightened.
She ended the call.
When she turned back, I was watching her.
She knew.
She knew I saw.
"Alessandro..."
I raised my hand.
Not angrily.
Just enough to stop her.
"Leave."
Her face changed.
"What?"
"Leave my house."
"This is our home."
"No."
I looked around the office.
The walls.
The history.
The secrets.
"This is my family's house."
Her eyes filled with anger.
"You are ending our engagement?"
I stared at her.
Seven years ago, my brother died.
Two days ago, a child knocked on my door.
Tonight, my fiancée spoke to my uncle like they were sharing a secret.
"I am saying I need answers before I marry anyone."
Vivian stood there silently.
Then she said something that followed me long after she left.
"Be careful what you uncover, Alessandro."
She walked toward the door.
"Sometimes the truth doesn't set people free."
She stopped.
"Sometimes it destroys the only life they have left."
The door closed.
I remained alone.
But not for long.
Because seconds later, Jonah entered.
His face told me everything.
"What happened?"
He placed a folder on my desk.
"We found something."
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Old.
Seven years old.
My brother Daniel standing outside a building.
Beside him...
Was Sophia Carter.
But that was not what caught my attention.
Behind them was another person.
Someone I knew.
Someone who had been at Daniel's funeral.
Someone who had comforted me after losing my brother.
Someone who had spent years helping me run the family empire.
My uncle Marco Duca.
Jonah looked at me.
"Alessandro..."
I stared at the picture.
The dead brother.
The loyal uncle.
The maid who knew too much.
The fiancée who lied.
For seven years, Daniel's name had been buried.
May you like
But now it had returned.
And it had brought everyone who betrayed him back with it.
