Chapter 6: The Brother Who Waited by the Phone
Cesare Falcone's villa was forty minutes outside the city, set behind a long gravel drive and surrounded by the kind of landscaped quiet that costs a great deal of money to maintain.
He had lived there for eleven years.
He entertained rarely.
He complained about nothing.
He had, by all appearances, made his peace with the life he had.
He was sitting in his study with a glass of wine and his phone face-up on the desk when the gate intercom sounded at eleven forty-three.
He looked at the phone first.
No messages.
No missed calls.
He pressed the intercom.
"Who is it?"
The voice that answered was not his security guard's.
"Open the gate, Cesare."
He set down his wine glass very carefully.
He opened the gate.
Domenico came in alone, which surprised him.
No driver waiting in the hall.
No men posted at the door.
Just his younger brother, still in the suit he had worn to the banquet, standing in the entrance of the study as though he had simply stopped by.
"You're up late," Cesare said.
"The evening ran long." Domenico looked around the study — the bookshelves, the desk, the fire that had burned down to coals.
"Sit down, Cesare."
"This is my house."
"Sit down."
Cesare sat.
Domenico remained standing.
He did not take out the document.
He did not produce evidence or make an accusation.
He simply looked at his brother the way you look at something you have been trying not to see for a long time.
"How long have you been planning it?" he said.
Cesare picked up his wine glass again.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do."
"The banquet went badly, I take it.
I'm sorry I couldn't attend.
I had—"
"A prior engagement.
Yes.
Enzo told me." Domenico pulled the chair from the corner of the room, placed it directly across from his brother, and sat down.
"The DNA document was fabricated.
The sample came from Ethan's brush, not Ruby's.
Enzo had it verified three weeks ago." He paused.
"You chose the wrong man to run your errand."
Cesare's hand tightened slightly on the glass.
"Enzo has always been sentimental about your branch of the family."
"He has always been honest.
There's a difference." Domenico leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me how long."
Cesare was quiet for a moment.
Then he set down the glass and looked at his brother directly for the first time since Domenico had walked in.
"Four years," he said.
"Since before Ruby came home."
"You've been watching for an opening for four years."
"I've been watching you make decisions that endanger everything Father built for four years." Cesare's voice had changed — the polite surface gone, something older and harder underneath.
"You brought that child home with no explanation.
You installed her in the household without consulting anyone.
You made her the center of a succession question that affects every family connected to the Falcone name, and you did it unilaterally, the way you do everything."
"So you decided to remove her."
"I decided to protect the family."
"By fabricating evidence."
"By using the tools available to me." Cesare stood now, the pretense of calm finally giving way.
"You were handed everything, Domenico.
Father's name, Father's position, Father's loyalty.
I stepped aside because I was told to.
Because it was what the family needed.
And I accepted that.
But I will not watch you hand what we built to a child whose origins you won't even explain, based on nothing but your word."
Domenico looked at him.
"Ruby is my daughter."
"So you say."
"She is my daughter," he said again, with a quietness that closed the argument completely.
"And what you did tonight — what you built, what you set in motion, what you used Valentina and Marcus to carry out — was an attempt to remove a three-year-old child from her home and destabilize this family's succession so that Father's will would fall to you."
Cesare said nothing.
"I need you to say it out loud," Domenico said.
"Not for me.
Because I already know.
But I need to hear whether you are still the kind of man who can say what he has done."
The fire had gone completely cold.
Cesare looked at his brother for a long moment.
Then he said, "I did what I believed was necessary."
"That's not what I asked."
Cesare picked up his wine glass, looked at it, and set it back down without drinking.
"Yes," he said finally.
"I planned it.
All of it."
Domenico nodded once.
He stood.
He buttoned his jacket.
"I'll be in touch," he said, "about what happens next."
He walked to the door.
"Domenico." Cesare's voice stopped him.
"What are you going to do?"
Domenico turned.
He looked at his brother — really looked at him, the way you look at something you are saying goodbye to.
"I'm going to go home," he said.
"Ruby woke up in a strange kitchen tonight because the people in her house tried to take everything from her.
I'm going to go sit with her until she falls back asleep."
He left.
Cesare stood alone in his study for a long time after the sound of the car disappeared down the gravel drive.
Then he picked up his phone and made a call.
It rang four times before it was answered.
May you like
"It didn't work," he said.
"We need to move to the second option."
