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“Let Rocco go pick them up and bring them back here. That way, we control the fucking narrative.”
Marco doesn’t look as if he wants to agree, but when Rocco appears behind me, saying, “I heard ya. I’m on the way, boss,” Marco turns and heads back to the bedroom.
I follow him, determined to keep a close eye on him.
Graziella is lying in bed as though she’s still asleep, her long, gold hair spread across the pillow. There’s a hole in her forehead and several in her chest, the scent of piss and shit in the air, and her eyes staring to her left.
I step up to the bed and pull her eyelids down.
My brother stands against the wall, a lone tear falling from his eye. I see what most eyes won’t notice. There’s a slight tremble running through his body, and I know that his sanity is slowly slipping away. He won’t be satisfied until he sheds blood.
“You know they’re gonna want to know who would have reason to do this, right?”
Marco looks up at me, and his jaw clenches, but no words come out. His light blue shirt is stained dark red with blood from her body.
Ermes, another man from our security team, steps into the room.
“Anything you need from us, boss?” Ermes asks as Rocco pushes off the wall and stands by the bed.
“Have the men check the cameras to see if there’s anything we can use. Ensure everything that needs to be secured is taken off the premises.”
Ermes nods and heads out.
I will have to call the police in time, but I’m giving him his moment. He’s standing over her, staring down at her lifeless body.
“Grazie, mi dispiace cosi tanto,” he apologizes to her, sitting beside her on the bed.
I don’t know what demons haunt my brother, but I suspect they are far greater than his infidelity. Things must have gotten pretty bad because his wife is sleeping in the second master suite, and he sleeps in the main master.
I cannot imagine that type of strain on my marriage to Mila.
I hate that I had to leave her the way I did this morning, but it was for her own good.
After a while, I hear a noise downstairs.
“Marco,” I say to my brother.
He lifts his head to look at me. “We have to call the police.”
He nods his head wearily, and I wonder where my father is. I’m certain he’s received the call, as have Antonio, Massimo, and Niccoló.
As if they heard my thoughts, all four men appear in the doorway behind me.
“Mio Dio,” I hear my father. “Marco! Get up! What is this!” he shouts, his hand outstretched toward the bed.
I try to meet my father’s eye and explain to him that now isn’t the time for one of his infamous rants, but he ignores me. He’s hellbent on exploding, and I know it’s got shit to do with my brother’s suffering.
Marco trembles and shudders, a sniffle escaping from him. Massimo drops onto the bed beside Marco and places his arms around his twin. The two of them press their foreheads together, and Massimo speaks in a low tone to Marco, which doesn’t allow us to hear his words.
“Marco! Perché l’hai fatto?” my father accuses when he’s had enough.
For the first time, Marco finds strength and pulls himself to his full height. With fury burning in his eyes, he looks at my father. “I did not do this! You always cared more about her than me! In everything, it was always about their family, wasn’t it? You never cared what I wanted! I was your son, and you sold me out like a slave to the highest bidder!” he spits.
“Explain this!”
“I can’t!”
“How can’t you? Where were you when this happened? Why is she not in the master suite?” my father demands.
