Chapter 6 - THE BROTHER WHO CHOSE SILENCE
“ISABELLA WAS TRYING TO PROTECT ME?”
Lorenzo's voice trembled.
Raymond nodded.
“She believed someone was turning your own business against you.”
Lorenzo looked at the photograph of Vincent beside Isabella's car.
“Then why did my brother lie for three years?”
Nobody answered.
I watched him study the image again.
There was anger in his eyes.
But beneath it was something worse.
Hope.
He wanted Raymond to be wrong.
He wanted to believe Vincent hadn't betrayed him.
Mateo finally spoke.
“Boss, Vincent's car was seen near the estate's north entrance ten minutes ago.”
“Bring him to the office.”
Lorenzo folded the photograph and placed it inside his jacket.
Then he turned to Raymond.
“You're coming with us.”
Raymond shook his head.
“I've spent three years being called a liar by your company. I'm not walking into that mansion unless someone guarantees I can walk back out.”
“You have my word.”
Raymond studied him.
“Your wife trusted that word, Mr. DeLuca.”
Lorenzo didn't defend himself.
He simply said, “Then I'll have to earn it again.”
When we returned to the mansion, the ballroom was almost empty.
Workers were removing the engagement decorations.
The white roses lay in boxes.
Camille's enormous cake remained untouched.
Vincent waited inside Lorenzo's office.
He was forty-one, with the same dark eyes as his brother, but tonight he looked ten years older.
When Lorenzo entered, Vincent stood.
“Lorenzo—”
“Sit down.”
Vincent obeyed.
Lorenzo placed the photograph on the desk.
“Explain this.”
Vincent stared at the image.
His face drained.
“Where did you get that?”
“Does it matter?”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Raymond.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“Did you know Isabella was in danger?”
Vincent swallowed.
“I knew she was investigating the emergency fund.”
“Did you go to Gate Six that night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she called me.”
Lorenzo's hands curled into fists.
“Then why wasn't I told?”
Vincent looked toward the window.
“Because she said someone was using your name to authorize the missing transfers. She wanted proof before confronting you.”
“Did you think I was stealing from injured workers?”
“No.”
“Then why hide it?”
“Because I thought I could handle it myself.”
Lorenzo laughed bitterly.
“Three years, Vincent.”
His brother lowered his head.
“Three years.”
Vincent explained that Isabella had arrived at Gate Six carrying copies of financial records.
She believed someone had forged Lorenzo's approval on several payments.
Vincent had gone there to convince her to leave.
They argued.
“She wanted to meet the terminal manager,” Vincent said. “I told her it wasn't safe.”
“Then what happened?”
“She gave me her car keys and told me to move the car away from the loading area. She didn't want anyone to recognize it.”
Lorenzo pointed at the photograph.
“That's why you're holding them?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Isabella?”
“Inside the inspection office.”
Vincent's voice cracked.
“I waited twelve minutes. Then the emergency sirens started.”
He covered his face.
“I couldn't find her. Somebody told me she'd taken the service road and had an accident.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“You believed that?”
“At first.”
“And afterward?”
Vincent said nothing.
Lorenzo's voice hardened.
“Afterward, Vincent?”
His brother looked up.
“Someone left a photograph of Olivia outside my apartment. On the back, they'd written that accidents happen to children, too.”
My blood ran cold.
Vincent shook his head.
“I was terrified. I thought if I pushed the investigation, they'd come after her.”
“So you buried the truth?”
“I tried to find it quietly.”
“With money from Isabella's trust?” Mateo asked.
Vincent nodded.
“Some of those payments went to Raymond. Others went to investigators.”
“Then why did Camille have the account records?” Lorenzo demanded.
“Because someone accessed my trustee credentials. I signed legitimate investigation expenses, but I didn't authorize the surveillance purchases.”
Mateo examined the statements.
Vincent's explanation matched some transactions.
Not all.
There were still large payments he couldn't explain.
“What about the complaints from Raymond?” Lorenzo asked.
Vincent's face tightened.
“I closed them.”
“Why?”
“Because every time Raymond submitted another complaint, someone sent me another warning.”
Lorenzo stepped away.
“You should have come to me.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
His voice broke.
“You let me bury my wife believing she'd died because she was careless. You let Olivia grow up thinking her mother made a mistake on a rainy road.”
Vincent began crying.
“I thought I was keeping her alive.”
I stood near the doorway, unable to move.
For the first time since I'd met the DeLuca brothers, neither looked powerful.
They looked like two men who had failed someone they loved.
Then Vincent removed a small silver digital recorder from his coat.
“Isabella gave me this that night.”
Lorenzo stared.
“You had that all along?”
“The original recording is damaged. But there are conversations on it.”
“Why didn't you give it to the police?”
“Because I was afraid they would think you were involved.”
Lorenzo reached for the recorder.
Vincent pulled it away.
“I'll give it to an independent investigator. Not someone paid by the family.”
Lorenzo stepped back.
“That's the first sensible thing you've said tonight.”
Then Mateo's phone vibrated.
His expression changed as he read the message.
“Boss, we've got a serious problem.”
“What now?”
“Anton Varga has ordered an emergency replacement of the Gate Six security system.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. Six o'clock.”
Lorenzo checked his watch.
It was 11:42 p.m.
Mateo continued.
“The old records are scheduled to be wiped during the installation.”
Raymond straightened.
“Those systems contain the original access logs.”
Vincent looked terrified.
“If those records disappear, we may never prove who was at the gate.”
Lorenzo stared at the recorder.
May you like
Then he said something that made every person in the room fall silent.
“We have six hours to find out whether my wife was murdered—and whether the man responsible is still sitting at my family table.”
