Chapter 8 - THE BROTHER’S PRICE
I wanted to hit my brother.
I wanted to hug him.
I wanted to travel backward six months and remove every betting app from his phone with a hammer.
Instead I stood in a side corridor of Union Station and forced myself to speak slowly.
“Toby, do not move.”
“I’m already here.”
“Where exactly?”
“Alley behind the restaurant.”
“Is Eddie there?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“A black car across the street.”
Dante took out his phone and began typing.
“What kind?” I asked.
“Mercedes.”
“Plate?”
Toby read it.
Dante sent the number to Arthur.
I said, “Get inside the restaurant.”
“It’s closed.”
“Then walk somewhere public.”
“He said not to.”
“Toby!”
My voice echoed.
I lowered it.
“Listen to me. The man who gave you the money tried to take two children tonight.”
Silence.
“What?”
“He is not a bookmaker who got creative.”
“Oh God.”
“Move.”
I heard Toby walking.
Then running.
A car door slammed in the background.
“Toby?”
“I’m going.”
“Toby!”
Footsteps.
Breathing.
A horn.
Then he shouted something.
The line stayed open.
I heard a door bang.
Voices.
Music.
He had entered somewhere.
“Nora?”
“Yes.”
“I’m in a twenty-four-hour diner.”
I could breathe again.
Dante pointed toward the station exit.
“Arthur has a team three minutes away.”
I told Toby.
He laughed weakly.
“Never thought I’d be happy to get picked up by mob guys.”
“Personal growth.”
“Nora.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“Later.”
He went quiet.
“Is Mom really in danger?”
I looked at Dante.
He shook his head.
“Caterina’s apartment is secure,” he said.
“Toby, Mom is protected.”
My brother exhaled.
“So Eddie lied.”
“Yes.”
“He does that well.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Maybe eight months.”
The timeline chilled me.
Before the debt.
Before the nanny job.
“Start at the beginning.”
Toby sighed.
“I met him at a private betting room near Cicero.”
“Who invited you?”
“A guy from work.”
“The one named Eddie?”
“No. Mark.”
“Last name?”
“I know this one. Delaney.”
Dante mouthed the name to himself.
He recognized it.
“What?” I asked.
“Later.”
Toby continued.
“Eddie was friendly. He bought drinks. He asked about family. Normal stuff.”
“You tell strangers about Grandma’s lullabies normally?”
“I was drunk.”
“Of course.”
“He said his mother was Sicilian. We were talking about weird things old people do. I told him Grandma sang the same song every time you cried.”
My stomach twisted.
“Then what?”
“Nothing for weeks.”
“And the necklace?”
“One night I showed him a photo from Grandma’s birthday. He zoomed in on it.”
“Why?”
“He said the bird looked antique.”
My pulse jumped.
“He knew.”
“I think so.”
“When did he offer the loan?”
“After I lost fifteen grand.”
I closed my eyes.
“Fifteen.”
“I know.”
“No, I need to hear numbers because apparently pain has accounting.”
Dante almost smiled.
Toby said, “Eddie said he knew people who could cover me. No credit check. No paperwork.”
“And you said yes.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“He started asking about you.”
“What questions?”
“Where you worked. Whether you still lived alone. Whether Mom still had Rosa’s things.”
I gripped the phone.
“You gave him my restaurant.”
“I thought he was interested in you.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“I will kill you myself.”
“That feels fair.”
Dante touched my arm.
I looked at him.
He shook his head slightly.
Not now.
Annoyingly, he was right.
“Did Eddie arrange the nanny job?”
Toby hesitated.
“He said he knew someone who needed help.”
There it was.
My life had been arranged by a blond security man using my brother’s stupidity as an application process.
“What did he ask after I got hired?”
“Nothing directly.”
“Toby.”
“He wanted me to text if you mentioned the Morettis.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Truth.”
“No.”
I listened.
He sounded honest.
Maybe I wanted him to.
Then he said, “I did tell him when you called me after the first night.”
“You mean earlier tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“What exactly?”
“That something weird happened with a song.”
Dante closed his eyes.
That was enough.
Gavin—Edward—knew the plan worked.
Nora sang.
Twins responded.
Music box emerged.
Safe opened.
Tablet found.
Then Enzo’s people stole it.
My brother had not intended to hurt anyone.
Intent did not change consequence.
Arthur’s team reached him.
I heard men identify themselves.
Toby sounded terrified.
Dante took the phone.
“Mr. Bennett.”
Toby went silent.
Dante’s voice remained calm.
“You are going with my people.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will answer every question.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will not lie.”
“No, sir.”
“And if you ever gamble forty thousand dollars you do not have again, your sister will become the least frightening part of your week.”
I stared.
Toby whispered, “Understood.”
Dante handed the phone back.
“That was oddly parental.”
“He endangered my children.”
The warmth disappeared.
Right.
This was not a joke.
We returned to the penthouse before dawn.
Toby arrived ten minutes later.
He looked terrible.
Wrinkled hoodie.
Unshaven.
Eyes red.
The second he saw me, he stopped.
I crossed the room.
He braced.
I hugged him.
Hard.
Then pushed him away.
“You idiot.”
“I know.”
“No. I need you to improve the vocabulary.”
“I catastrophic idiot?”
“Better.”
He looked at Dante.
Dante did not smile.
Arthur placed a photograph of Gavin on the table.
Toby nodded.
“That’s Eddie.”
“Full name he gave you?”
“Edward Reese.”
Close enough to Reece.
“Phone number?”
Toby provided it.
“Locations?”
“Betting room. Bar. Once a warehouse.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Where?”
Toby gave the address.
Arthur typed.
His face changed.
“What?”
Arthur turned the laptop.
The warehouse was owned by a logistics company.
Delaney Freight.
I remembered the coworker who first invited Toby to the betting room.
Mark Delaney.
Dante said, “Delaney hauled for my father.”
Arthur nodded.
“And for Enzo after Vittorio died.”
Toby sank into a chair.
“So this whole thing—”
“Was designed,” I said.
The debt.
The introduction.
The job.
My desperation.
Gavin knew I was Rosa’s granddaughter.
He knew Isabella had left safety rituals tied to the lullaby.
He needed someone who could trigger the twins’ memory without looking suspicious.
A nanny.
A desperate one.
I looked at Dante.
“He used me as a key.”
“Yes.”
“To open Isabella’s secrets.”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“What was on the tablet he stole?”
Dante’s face hardened.
“We need to know.”
Toby raised a hand slightly.
Everyone stared.
He lowered it.
“Sorry.”
“What?” I asked.
“Eddie said something once.”
“When?”
“A month ago.”
“Say it.”
“He was drunk. He said the Moretti princess hid a confession where only her babies could find it.”
Dante went still.
“Confession.”
“His word.”
“Whose confession?”
“He didn’t say.”
Arthur looked at Dante.
“The lake code.”
I understood.
Isabella’s tablet might contain directions.
Rosa’s red-bird code said LAKE.
Enzo wanted the tablet to find whatever Isabella hid at the lake house.
Dante stood.
“We go now.”
I stood too.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“The girls were attacked less than four hours ago.”
“They remain here with full security.”
“Your full security included Gavin yesterday.”
That stopped him.
Arthur looked away.
I continued.
“We don’t leave them in the same building while we chase another clue.”
“I am not taking them to the lake.”
“I didn’t say take them.”
“What are you saying?”
“Move them somewhere nobody in the Moretti organization chose.”
He stared.
“Where?”
I thought.
Not Mom.
Not Caterina.
Not Aunt June, because Toby had spoken her name on monitored phones.
Then I remembered Father Michael.
The rectory.
Old stone walls.
No corporate security system.
No Moretti employee list.
“St. Anthony’s.”
Dante’s expression said absolutely not.
I kept going.
“No one expects Dante Moretti to hide his daughters in a church.”
“I am not hiding.”
“Then call it a spiritual retreat.”
Toby made a choking sound.
I ignored him.
Dante rubbed his jaw.
Arthur said, “It has merit.”
Dante looked betrayed.
Arthur shrugged.
“God has reasonable security.”
For the first time all night, Toby laughed.
Dante did not.
But he agreed.
By seven, the twins were eating pancakes in Father Michael’s kitchen while two carefully selected guards watched the entrances from outside.
Grace stayed.
My mother arrived with Caterina.
The old woman took one look at Toby and slapped him on the back of the head.
He stared.
“What was that for?”
“Being stupid with money.”
“You met me ten seconds ago.”
“Rosa told me enough.”
Family.
Apparently blood came with retroactive disciplinary rights.
Dante stood near the chapel door while the twins colored at a table.
Mia called him over.
“Daddy.”
He crouched.
She handed him a drawing.
Three stick figures.
Two small.
One tall.
And another figure with long brown hair.
Me.
Dante stared.
“Who’s that?”
“Nora.”
“I can see.”
Mia added a blue scribble over all four.
“Dark.”
Bella pointed.
“Safe dark.”
Dante looked at me.
Something moved behind his eyes.
I looked away first.
Not because I was afraid.
Because it was too personal.
Arthur’s phone rang.
He answered quietly.
Then came toward us.
“We located Delaney Freight’s warehouse.”
Dante stood.
“Gavin?”
“Unknown.”
“Enzo?”
Arthur’s face tightened.
“His car is there.”
Dante reached for his coat.
I followed.
He turned.
“You stay.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“Enzo used me as a key. I want to know what door.”
“This is not a nursery.”
“I noticed.”
“People there may be armed.”
“I will stay in the car.”
He stared.
I stared back.
Finally he said, “You stay behind Arthur.”
“Fine.”
“And if anything happens—”
“I run.”
“Yes.”
“Toward public witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“Not into secret hallways.”
“Nora.”
“I am confirming.”
His mouth almost moved.
Then Caterina spoke from behind us.
“Dante.”
He turned.
She held the red-bird pendant.
“You need this.”
“Why?”
“Because the code is not for the lake house.”
We all froze.
“What?”
She opened the pendant and pointed to the six numbers.
“Rosa did not write LAKE to mean Lake Geneva.”
“What does it mean?”
Caterina’s face turned grave.
“Lake Street.”
Dante looked at Arthur.
Delaney Freight’s warehouse address was on Lake Street.
The code was not directing us away from Enzo.
It was directing us straight to him.
Caterina continued.
“And those six numbers are not a safe code.”
“What are they?”
“A date.”
“Four-seven-twenty-eleven,” I said.
Dante’s face drained.
“What happened April seventh, 2011?”
He did not answer.
Arthur did.
“Dante’s father died.”
Caterina nodded.
“And the last digit?”
She touched the tiny 3 written separately beneath the date.
“Third room.”
Dante stared at her.
“What third room?”
Caterina whispered:
“The room where Vittorio recorded his last confession.”
According to the property records on Arthur’s screen, that room was inside the same Lake Street warehouse where Enzo’s car was waiting.
May you like
And suddenly the secret Isabella died trying to protect was no longer buried in a nursery.
It was waiting in a warehouse owned by the man who had engineered my brother’s debt.
