Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER WHO CAME BACK
Leo Callahan was waiting outside Naomi’s apartment with a coffee in one hand and a bruise under his left eye.
Naomi stopped six feet away.
He smiled weakly.
“Hi.”
She hit him with her purse.
“Ow.”
Then she hugged him.
Hard.
Leo smelled like airport, winter, and the cedar soap he had used since high school.
For five years, she had imagined dozens of versions of this reunion.
None included an eye bruise.
She pulled back.
“What happened?”
“I walked into a door.”
She hit him with the purse again.
“Ow! Okay. A man walked me into a door.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Probably because our family has excellent decision-making skills.”
She unlocked the apartment.
Leo followed.
Inside, Naomi checked the rooms before she took off her coat.
Leo noticed.
“That normal now?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
She turned.
“So are you.”
His smile vanished.
He set the coffee on the counter.
“I know about the debt.”
“You always knew about the debt.”
“I know what happened after.”
Naomi’s stomach tightened.
“Who contacted you?”
“Anonymous email. Documents. Audio.”
“What audio?”
He took out his phone.
Naomi’s own voice filled the kitchen.
Five years younger.
Cold.
Precise.
“If the debt is cleared, I work for Valente until he decides the obligation is satisfied.”
Naomi froze.
“I never said that.”
Leo stared.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“You walked into the back room—”
“I said I’d fix their books in exchange for your debt being erased.”
“That recording sounds like—”
“It’s edited.”
She took the phone.
The cadence was wrong.
Tiny spaces where words had been stitched together.
Five years ago, it might have fooled her.
Now she had spent too much time around financial recordings, depositions, surveillance summaries.
“Someone wants you to believe Dominic enslaved me.”
“Didn’t he?”
“No.”
The answer surprised both of them.
Naomi sat.
“He manipulated the situation. He let your debt keep growing because he thought it would bring me to him.”
Leo’s face went white.
“He did what?”
“He did not create it.”
“That’s your defense?”
“No.”
“You spent five years working for a man because I was stupid.”
“I spent nine days working for him because you were stupid.”
Leo blinked.
“What?”
“The debt was cleared after nine days.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Naomi looked away.
Leo laughed once.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You like him.”
“Don’t.”
“You like the mafia boss.”
“I will throw you off my balcony.”
“We’re on the fourth floor.”
“You’ll have time to regret your tone.”
He stared at her.
Then seriousness returned.
“Naomi, what are you doing?”
That question was harder than any accusation.
“I don’t know.”
Leo sat across from her.
“I thought you were trapped.”
“Maybe I was.”
“By him?”
She looked toward the window.
“By the version of myself that made sense there.”
Leo waited.
Naomi rubbed both hands over her face.
“In normal companies, I spent years watching executives move bad numbers into good columns and call it strategy. People got laid off. Pensions disappeared. Everyone smiled in meetings.”
“And Dominic?”
“Never pretended.”
“That doesn’t make him good.”
“I know.”
“Does he kill people?”
Naomi’s silence answered.
Leo stood.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“Do not lecture me about risk.”
“You saved my life.”
“I paid a debt.”
“You gave him five years.”
“I gave myself five years.”
Leo stared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means stop making my choices about you.”
The words came sharper than she intended.
He flinched.
Naomi immediately regretted it.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.”
That was worse.
She stood.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You are.”
He looked at the bruise reflected in the dark window.
“And I’ve spent five years pretending the worst thing I did was lose money.”
Naomi said nothing.
Leo continued.
“I let you become the responsible one when Mom died. I let you fix Dad. Fix me. Fix every disaster. Then I moved across the country and told myself your high-paying consulting job meant it all worked out.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I didn’t ask.”
That landed.
Silence had many accomplices.
Naomi poured water into two glasses.
“Who hit you?”
“The guy who gave me the documents.”
“You met him?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m apparently committed to bad sequels.”
She glared.
“Name.”
“He called himself Daniel Ross.”
Description matched nobody she knew.
Tall.
Brown hair.
Expensive coat.
A scar near his chin.
“He said Dominic ruined your life. Offered to help me get you out.”
“What did he want?”
Leo hesitated.
“Your work laptop.”
Naomi went still.
“And?”
“I told him no.”
She exhaled.
“He hit me.”
“Congratulations on your first intelligent decision in five years.”
“Thanks.”
“Did he follow you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Naomi walked to the bedroom and opened the closet.
A floorboard near the wall lifted with a screwdriver.
Beneath it sat a small black case.
Leo stared.
“What is that?”
“Insurance.”
Inside was an encrypted drive containing copies of every ledger Naomi had ever been asked to reconcile for Valente.
Not enough to prosecute everyone.
Enough to destroy several people.
She had created it in year two.
Updated it monthly.
Dominic did not know.
At least she thought he didn’t.
Leo looked horrified.
“You brought that home?”
“I keep it offline.”
“That sentence does not make me feel better.”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Callahan.”
“Your brother looks worse with a bruise.”
She froze.
Leo saw her face.
The voice continued.
“I told him to ask nicely.”
“Who is this?”
A soft laugh.
“Daniel Ross.”
Naomi walked toward the window but stayed out of sight.
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“No. You want me to guess. That means you’re either insecure or theatrical.”
Leo mouthed, Seriously?
Naomi ignored him.
Daniel said, “The drive.”
“What drive?”
“Dominic taught you suspicion, but you learned redundancy all by yourself.”
Her blood chilled.
“How do you know?”
“Because somebody close to you tells me things.”
“Varga?”
“No.”
“Dominic?”
The laugh changed.
“Not everything is about your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Tell that to him.”
Naomi’s jaw tightened.
“What happens if I say no?”
“You already know. Your brother gets corrected again.”
Leo muttered, “I object to the phrasing.”
Naomi covered the phone.
“Quiet.”
Daniel continued.
“Tomorrow. Noon. Battery Park. Bring the drive.”
The line ended.
Leo said, “We’re calling the police.”
Naomi stared at him.
“You just said we.”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud.”
“Can this be emotional later?”
A knock sounded at the door.
Three slow knocks.
Pause.
Two.
Naomi knew the pattern.
Roman.
She opened the door with the chain still on.
Roman stood alone.
“You quit.”
“Excellent observational skills.”
“Dominic sent me.”
“Then leave.”
“He said you’d say that.”
“Tell him he remains irritatingly competent.”
Roman looked past her.
Saw Leo.
His expression hardened.
“Who hit you?”
Leo blinked.
“Nice to see you too.”
Naomi unchained the door.
Roman entered.
She told him about Daniel.
Not the drive.
Roman listened.
When she finished, he said, “Daniel Ross is dead.”
The room went silent.
Leo said, “That seems inconvenient.”
Naomi stared.
“How dead?”
Roman’s face did not move.
“Eight years.”
Her stomach turned.
“Who was he?”
“Financial investigator. State organized-crime task force.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Real accident?”
Roman looked away.
Naomi already knew.
“Dominic?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Roman hesitated.
“His father.”
Valente history again.
Old sins using new names.
Naomi sat.
“Someone is using a dead investigator’s identity.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did Daniel Ross investigate?”
Roman pulled out a folded photocopy.
A newspaper clipping.
FINANCIAL INVESTIGATOR KILLED IN LATE-NIGHT CRASH.
Beside the article was a photograph.
Naomi read the caption.
Ross had been investigating waterfront construction contracts and municipal waste accounts.
The same accounts she had flagged two weeks ago.
She looked up.
“Dominic knew?”
“Not until today.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You shouldn’t. But I’m telling the truth.”
Leo leaned against the counter.
“So someone is resurrecting a dead investigator, targeting Naomi, and reopening whatever he found.”
Roman nodded.
Naomi looked at the hidden floorboard.
Insurance.
Suddenly it felt less like protection and more like a beacon.
“Roman.”
“Yeah?”
“When Dominic recruited me, did anyone else know why?”
His face tightened.
“Several people.”
“Names.”
“Me. His father. Salvatore Greco. Dominic’s attorney at the time.”
“Who?”
Roman looked toward the window.
“Celeste Vale.”
Naomi knew the name.
Everyone did.
Celeste had become Dominic’s general counsel three years earlier.
Elegant.
Brilliant.
Untouchable.
And one of only four people with access to Naomi’s compensation structure, travel records, and internal audit calendar.
The phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
Naomi leaving Le Bernardin.
Varga’s hand at the small of her back as he leaned past another diner.
The angle made it look intimate.
Below it:
YOUR BOSS DIDN’T LIKE THIS.
A second photograph appeared.
Dominic in the harbor office.
Standing alone.
His fist bloody against a shattered glass wall.
Leo stared.
“That’s about you.”
Naomi’s pulse jumped.
Roman swore.
A third message came.
ASK HIM IF HE’S JEALOUS NOW.
Naomi looked at Roman.
“Where is Dominic?”
Roman did not answer quickly enough.
Her chest tightened.
“Roman.”
“At Varga’s club.”
“Why?”
“To discuss boundaries.”
Naomi grabbed her coat.
Leo said, “That sounds like murder with business vocabulary.”
“It is.”
She looked at Roman.
“You’re driving.”
He blinked.
“You quit.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic ordered me not to take you anywhere.”
May you like
Naomi opened the door.
“Then tonight you can disappoint everyone.”
