Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER HIDDEN INSIDE THE FAMILY
“Play it again.”
Damien stood over Marcus's tablet as his father's voice echoed through the office.
“Damien, don't trust your brother.”
Marcus replayed the recording.
The words didn't change.
Sophie watched Damien's expression harden.
“Mr. Russo?”
“My father never had another son.”
“Are you certain?”
Damien looked at her.
“I grew up in that house. My mother died when I was twelve. My father raised me himself.”
He stopped.
There was one person who had lived in their home for nearly fifteen years.
Adrian Russo.
His cousin.
The orphaned son of Vittorio's younger brother, Carlo.
Carlo had supposedly died in an automobile accident when Adrian was a toddler.
Vittorio had brought Adrian into the family.
He had paid for his schooling, given him a room beside Damien's, and eventually trusted him with family business.
Damien had called him a brother more than once.
But his father had never used that word.
Not until now.
“Adrian,” Damien said.
Marcus nodded slowly.
“That would explain a few things.”
“What things?”
“The records from the medical trust. Adrian had authority to sign financial documents for the organization.”
Damien's jaw tightened.
“After my father died?”
“Yes.”
“Who authorized that?”
“Your father apparently did.”
Sophie stepped toward them.
“Then maybe Adrian wasn't stealing family money six months ago.”
Damien looked at her sharply.
She continued.
“Maybe he was moving money your father wanted hidden.”
It was an uncomfortable possibility.
Damien had never been able to explain why Adrian had stolen from accounts that were closely monitored.
For years Adrian had earned more than enough money legitimately through Russo investments.
Yet when the missing funds were discovered, the evidence had pointed directly toward him.
Damien had issued orders to find him.
Adrian had vanished.
Now he was back.
And Vanessa had been working with him.
Marcus's phone vibrated with a security update.
“The facility administrator says Oliver is inside,” he reported. “But Vanessa is claiming she's his court-appointed guardian.”
Sophie stared at him.
“That's impossible.”
“She has documents.”
“She has forged documents.”
Damien turned to Marcus.
“Have our attorney verify the order with the issuing court. Don't let anyone move Oliver.”
He looked at Sophie.
“We're going.”
Twenty minutes later, their car turned through the gates of a sprawling rehabilitation center overlooking Long Island Sound.
The grounds were immaculate.
White buildings.
Tall oaks.
A stone fountain beside a circular driveway.
But Sophie barely noticed.
All she could think about was Oliver sitting somewhere inside, waiting for her.
Damien walked beside her through the entrance.
Two private security officers stood outside the reception area.
One stepped forward.
“Mr. Russo, I'm afraid—”
“Move.”
The man hesitated.
Then noticed Marcus and the two officers accompanying him.
Damien wasn't carrying a weapon.
He hadn't come to threaten anyone.
But there was something in his expression that made the guard reconsider.
The administrator, a woman named Dr. Patricia Hale, hurried toward them.
“Mr. Russo, this facility has strict patient privacy rules.”
“A seven-year-old boy was removed from school without his mother's authorization.”
Dr. Hale looked toward Sophie.
“Are you the child's mother?”
“Yes. Sophie Bennett.”
The doctor's expression changed.
“Mrs. Bennett, I was told you had agreed to a temporary placement.”
“I agreed to nothing.”
Dr. Hale went pale.
She turned to an assistant.
“Bring me the intake records.”
A few moments later, Vanessa appeared at the end of the hallway.
Her ivory designer dress looked absurdly elegant beneath the hospital lights.
“Damien.”
She approached with a brittle smile.
“Thank God you're here. I was trying to help.”
Sophie stepped forward.
“Where is my son?”
Vanessa ignored her.
“Darling, Oliver had an episode. He became frightened. I brought him somewhere safe.”
“You kidnapped him,” Damien said.
Vanessa's expression tightened.
“Don't use that word.”
“Then tell me why his mother wasn't informed.”
“Because she wasn't thinking clearly.”
Sophie felt as though she'd been slapped.
Vanessa gestured toward her bandaged wrist.
“She's injured, exhausted, and emotionally unstable. You saw what happened with the cake.”
Damien stared at his fiancée.
He remembered the evening he'd proposed.
Vanessa had cried.
She had told him she wanted a home filled with family.
He had believed that beneath her demanding personality was a woman who understood loneliness.
Now he wondered whether he had loved Vanessa or the future she had promised him.
“Where is Oliver?” he repeated.
Vanessa glanced toward the elevator.
“In a private room.”
“Take us there.”
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“Then explain it.”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Your father isn't well.”
The hallway fell silent.
Damien stepped closer.
“You've seen him?”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Almost two years.”
Damien stared at her.
His fiancée had known his supposedly dead father was alive.
For two years.
While Damien visited his grave every anniversary.
While he sat alone in the family chapel on Christmas Eve.
While he told Vanessa how much he wished his father could attend their wedding.
“You watched me grieve,” he said.
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“I promised I wouldn't tell you.”
“Who made you promise?”
“Vittorio.”
Damien shook his head.
“Why would my father trust you with that secret?”
Vanessa looked toward Sophie.
“Because he didn't trust everyone around you.”
Before Damien could answer, a small voice came from the hallway.
“Mom?”
Sophie spun around.
Oliver stood near the elevator.
He wore his blue sweater and carried his little toy airplane.
His dark hair was rumpled.
His cheeks were wet.
“Oliver!”
She hurried toward him.
The boy ran into her good arm.
“Mom, I wanted you.”
Sophie sank to her knees.
She held him as carefully as she could.
“I know, sweetheart. I'm here.”
Oliver pressed his face into her shoulder.
“Can we go home?”
“Yes.”
Sophie kissed his hair.
“Yes, baby.”
Damien watched them.
For a moment, the entire mystery seemed less important than that simple embrace.
Then Oliver looked up at him.
“Mr. Damien?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Grandpa said you would come.”
Damien crouched.
“Did he?”
Oliver nodded.
“He said you're good at finding people.”
Damien swallowed.
“Where is Grandpa now?”
Oliver pointed toward the elevator.
“Upstairs. But he told me not to go back.”
“Why?”
The boy looked at Vanessa.
Then lowered his eyes.
“He was scared.”
Damien rose.
“Take Sophie and Oliver to the car,” he told Marcus.
Vanessa stepped into his path.
“You can't leave with him.”
Sophie tightened her arm around Oliver.
Damien's expression turned cold.
“Try to stop them.”
Dr. Hale approached with the intake paperwork.
“Mr. Russo, there is a serious problem.”
She held up the supposed guardianship order.
“The court clerk confirms this document doesn't exist in their records. I'm notifying law enforcement.”
Vanessa looked stunned.
“I didn't prepare that.”
“Then who did?” Damien asked.
But Vanessa was no longer watching him.
She was staring at the elevator.
The doors opened.
An elderly man stepped out.
Gray hair.
Thin shoulders.
Dark wool coat.
A silver watch on his left wrist.
Damien knew him immediately.
Not because of the photographs.
Not because of the scar.
But because of the way the man paused, looked directly at him, and softened his expression exactly as he'd done whenever Damien came home injured as a boy.
“Dad?”
Vittorio Russo stopped walking.
For several seconds, neither man moved.
Then Vittorio whispered, “My son.”
Damien felt eight years of grief rise into his throat.
He wanted to embrace him.
He wanted to strike him.
He wanted to ask how a father could let his only child suffer that much.
Instead, he said, “Why?”
Vittorio's eyes filled with tears.
“Because I thought keeping you away would keep you alive.”
“From what?”
Vittorio looked toward Vanessa.
Then toward the hallway behind her.
“From the mistake I made before you were born.”
Damien took a step forward.
“What mistake?”
The elevator opened again.
Adrian Russo walked out.
He wore the same gray jacket Sophie had described.
His face was bruised, and one hand was bandaged.
But he was smiling sadly.
“Tell him, Vittorio.”
Damien turned toward him.
May you like
Adrian looked him directly in the eyes.
“Tell Damien why you raised your firstborn son as his cousin.”
