Chapter 6 - The brother's shadow
The drive back to the Caruso estate felt like an eternity. Vincent’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind replaying every interaction he’d ever had with Celeste. He should have seen it. He should have known she was too ambitious to simply accept her place as the wife of a weak brother.
He slammed the brakes as the SUV approached the main gates of the estate. The heavy iron gates were wide open. The guardhouse was dark. Vincent drew his sidearm, a heavy, custom-engraved pistol, and stepped out into the snow. The beautiful, bright Christmas lights that decorated the mansion now felt eerie, casting long, dramatic shadows across the snow-covered lawn.
He moved silently, his broad shoulders squared, his athletic frame slipping through the darkness. He reached the front doors. They were unlocked. He pushed them open and stepped into the grand foyer. It was completely silent. The guards he had left behind were nowhere to be seen.
Vincent moved through the luxurious hallways, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the imported carpets. He reached the entrance to the main living room. The massive Christmas tree in the corner was fully lit, casting a warm, golden glow over the expensive furniture.
Sitting on the large leather sofa, perfectly straight and incredibly calm, was the boy from the photograph. Julian. He was wearing the miniature tailored suit, his dark hair neatly combed, his fair skin glowing in the holiday light. He held a small, silver pocket watch in his hand, tracing the intricate engravings with his thumb.
Sitting on the floor opposite him, looking confused and slightly scared, was Noelle. She was still wearing her pale-green dress, clutching a velvet pillow to her chest.
Vincent lowered his weapon and stepped into the room.
Julian looked up. His eyes, so identical to Vincent’s, locked onto the massive man in the doorway. He didn't flinch. He didn't show fear. He simply snapped the pocket watch shut and slipped it into his jacket.
You are Vincent Caruso, the boy said. His voice was steady, refined, and completely devoid of childish innocence. His American accent was clipped and precise.
Vincent slowly holstered his weapon. He took a step forward. I am your father.
Julian’s expression didn't change. Biological designation is irrelevant. Celeste told me you would say that to confuse me. She said you are a weak leader. She said you allowed this family to become soft, and that to restore our power, the weak must be removed.
Julian slowly stood up. He reached into his tailored jacket.
Vincent didn't move to defend himself. He knew he could cross the room and disarm the boy in a fraction of a second, but he refused to use violence against his own son.
Julian pulled his hand out of his jacket. He wasn't holding a weapon. He was holding a heavy, iron key.
She told me to lock the girl in the basement, Julian said, looking down at Noelle. She said the cold would keep her quiet until the Morettis arrived to secure the house.
Why didn't you? Vincent asked softly.
Julian looked back at Vincent, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his incredibly disciplined face. Because it is illogical. If you are as weak as she claims, you would have surrendered the house. But the security cameras showed you driving through the gates alone, armed, prepared to fight an entire squad. A weak man runs. You did not run.
Vincent took another slow step forward, dropping to one knee so he was eye-level with the boy. Celeste lied to you, Julian. She used you as a pawn to steal my crown. But you are a Caruso. We do not lock our family in the cold. We protect them.
Noelle stood up, dropping her pillow. She walked bravely over to Julian and gently touched his sleeve. You look just like Daddy, she whispered.
Julian stared at the little girl’s hand on his arm. For the first time, the terrifyingly composed facade of the child-soldier cracked. A deep, profound sadness flashed in his eyes. I have never had a sister.
You have one now, Vincent said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and pulled both of his children into a massive, protective embrace. He felt Julian stiffen for a moment, unaccustomed to physical affection, before the boy slowly rested his head against Vincent’s broad chest.
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The emotional reunion was cut brutally short by the sound of shattering glass. The massive window at the far end of the living room exploded inward, showering the Christmas tree in shards of ice and crystal.
Vincent instantly shielded the children with his heavy coat. He looked up, his eyes turning to absolute ice. The Morettis hadn't been defeated at the shipyard. The men at the docks were the decoy. The real invasion force had just breached the mansion.
