Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO LIVED UNDER ANOTHER NAME
“The son who signed it was not Dante.”
Dante repeated his father's words as though saying them aloud might make them understandable.
Vincent studied the hospital authorization again.
“The signature matches yours because Gabriel had access to your old correspondence,” he said.
Dante shook his head.
“My brother wouldn't need to forge my signature to authorize Father's treatment.”
“Unless your father's doctors believed you were the only son permitted to make decisions.”
Isabella lowered her eyes.
Dante turned toward her.
“What aren't you telling me?”
She stood near Evelyn's fireplace, looking suddenly much older than she had at the banquet.
“After Father's disappearance, Gabriel started using your identity.”
Dante stared.
“For what?”
“Financial transactions. Medical appointments. Private meetings.”
“How?”
“He resembled you enough that people who didn't know the family accepted it. Especially sixteen years ago.”
Dante's hands curled into fists.
“Why didn't you stop him?”
“Because Father asked me not to.”
The room fell silent.
Evelyn looked down at her necklace.
“That part is true,” she whispered.
Dante turned.
“Mother?”
“Your father believed someone was trying to destroy you. He thought Gabriel could draw those people into the open by appearing to act in your name.”
Dante looked from his mother to his sister.
“So Father asked Gabriel to impersonate me?”
“At first,” Isabella said.
“What happened afterward?”
She hesitated.
“Gabriel liked being you.”
Those five words explained something Dante had never understood about his younger brother.
Gabriel had always been charming.
Always confident.
Always comfortable entertaining wealthy investors.
But he'd also spent years complaining that Dante received everything.
The leadership.
The family ring.
Their father's approval.
And now Dante was learning his brother had spent sixteen years quietly borrowing the identity he resented.
Vincent opened another document.
“Boss, there are twelve companies registered under variations of your name.”
Dante glanced at the screen.
He recognized none of them.
“What's their value?”
“Approximately eighty-four million dollars.”
Isabella looked startled.
Dante noticed.
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
“Then what have you been protecting all these years?”
She looked at Evelyn.
“My father.”
Dante closed the folder.
“Vincent, bring the car.”
“Where are we going?”
“Albany.”
Evelyn immediately stood.
“No.”
Dante faced her.
“Mom.”
“Don't go to Briarwood without me.”
“It's too dangerous.”
She touched the black pearl.
“Your father will not speak to you if I'm not there.”
Dante frowned.
“Why?”
“Because the last time he saw you, he believed you'd betrayed him.”
For a moment, Dante looked twenty-seven again.
Not the feared man who controlled half of Manhattan's criminal underworld.
Just a son realizing his father had spent sixteen years believing a lie.
I stepped forward.
“Mrs. Ferraro shouldn't travel alone.”
Dante looked at me.
“I'll have medical staff accompany her.”
“She's not asking for a doctor.”
Evelyn squeezed my hand.
“She means I need someone who will listen to me.”
Dante studied me.
Then nodded.
“Get your coat, Madison.”
Isabella immediately objected.
“A housekeeper has no business involving herself in this.”
Dante looked at his sister.
“She's the only person in this house who believed Mother when it mattered.”
Isabella fell silent.
We left Manhattan shortly after midnight.
The city lights disappeared behind us as three black SUVs traveled north.
Evelyn sat beside me.
Dante occupied the opposite seat.
He stared out the window for most of the journey.
I wondered how many questions he was trying not to ask.
Finally, Evelyn spoke.
“Your father used to call you his little captain.”
Dante looked toward her.
“You remember that?”
“Of course.”
“You haven't called me that in years.”
She smiled sadly.
“I stopped when you stopped coming to breakfast.”
Dante lowered his eyes.
For a brief moment, the hardness disappeared from his face.
He reached across the seat and took his mother's hand.
“I'm sorry.”
She held it tightly.
“Find your father first, sweetheart.”
We arrived at Briarwood shortly before three in the morning.
The estate stood behind enormous iron gates.
Most of the windows were dark.
A single lamp burned beside the front entrance.
Vincent approached the security booth.
The guard recognized him.
After a brief conversation, the gates opened.
Dante looked suspicious.
“That was easy.”
Vincent nodded.
“Gabriel left instructions to admit us.”
“Where is he?”
“Inside.”
Dante stepped out before the vehicle had fully stopped.
I helped Evelyn follow.
The front doors opened.
Gabriel Ferraro stood beneath a massive stone archway.
He was thirty-nine.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Well dressed.
He looked remarkably like Dante, though his expression was softer.
“Brother,” Gabriel said.
Dante walked straight toward him.
“Where's Father?”
Gabriel glanced at Evelyn.
“Hello, Mom.”
She didn't answer.
Dante grabbed Gabriel's jacket.
“Where is he?”
Gabriel didn't resist.
“He's upstairs.”
“Take me to him.”
“Before you see him, there's something you need to understand.”
Dante tightened his grip.
“You've had sixteen years to explain.”
Gabriel's expression changed.
“I know.”
Then he said something unexpected.
“I've been waiting sixteen years for you to come.”
Dante released him.
“What?”
“Father told me you'd come eventually.”
“Why didn't he contact me?”
Gabriel looked toward Evelyn.
“Because he believed you authorized everything.”
Dante shook his head.
“I didn't.”
“I know that now.”
“Then why didn't you tell him?”
Gabriel looked ashamed.
“Because by the time I discovered the truth, I was already trapped.”
He led us upstairs.
The hallway smelled of polished wood and old books.
At the far end, a door stood partially open.
Inside was a large bedroom overlooking the gardens.
An elderly man sat beside the window.
Silver hair.
Thin shoulders.
A dark cardigan.
In his hands rested a silver pocket watch.
Evelyn stopped walking.
“Antonio.”
The man turned.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
Then he stood slowly.
“Evie?”
Evelyn began crying.
Dante didn't move.
His father looked toward him.
Their eyes met.
And the years between them seemed to fill the room.
“Dante?”
Dante swallowed.
“Hello, Dad.”
Antonio stepped forward.
Then stopped.
His expression changed from disbelief to fear.
He looked toward Gabriel.
“Why did you bring him here?”
Gabriel lowered his head.
“It's time.”
Antonio shook his head.
“No.”
Dante approached.
“Father, I didn't authorize your confinement.”
Antonio closed his eyes.
“That's what Gabriel says.”
“Then why won't you believe him?”
Antonio looked directly at his eldest son.
“Because I heard you give the order.”
Dante froze.
“What order?”
Antonio opened the pocket watch.
Inside was a tiny folded photograph of three boys standing beside a fishing boat.
Dante recognized himself.
Gabriel.
And their cousin Michael.
Michael Ferraro had died at twenty-two.
At least, that's what the family had always believed.
Antonio looked toward the photograph.
Then whispered:
“THE MAN WHO GAVE THE ORDER HAD YOUR FACE, DANTE. BUT HE CALLED ME BY A NAME ONLY MICHAEL EVER USED.”
May you like
Gabriel stepped backward.
And Dante realized the brother he had been searching for might not be the one standing beside him.
