Chapter 23
Brandon asked for nothing.
That made Leo curious.
He was fifteen.
Celeste had written.
Celeste had met him once.
Then again two years later after Leo requested it.
Brandon had remained silent.
Leo asked Rebecca:
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She answered generally.
Released.
Working outside Castellano businesses.
No family authority.
Still subject to financial obligations from the old case.
“Why no letter?”
Rebecca looked toward Vincent.
Leo noticed.
“Dad told him no?”
Vincent answered.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know.”
Leo decided to ask.
One message through Brandon’s attorney.
WHY DID YOU NEVER WRITE?
The answer came ten days later.
Because every version I drafted sounded like I was asking you to understand me.
I did not think you owed me that work.
Leo read it.
Then:
“That good answer.”
Vincent nodded.
It did not erase anything.
Leo continued reading.
Brandon had written more.
I did not hit you.
For years I used that fact to make myself feel less responsible than Celeste.
That was dishonest.
I knew after the second incident.
I kept sending Emma away.
I helped create false records.
I needed Emma removed because I was afraid of losing money and status.
Knowing and facilitating were enough.
You do not need to answer this.
Leo looked up.
“Did he know second?”
“Yes.”
“So first he didn’t.”
“As far as the evidence showed.”
“Then why not stop after?”
Vincent remembered Brandon’s deposition.
Because we were already in it.
He told Leo.
The phrase bothered him.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“You can stop whenever.”
“Yes.”
“Even after bad?”
“Yes.”
Leo thought.
“Harder.”
“Usually.”
“But still.”
“Yes.”
That became the part he remembered.
Not Brandon.
The sentence.
Already in it.
At school months later, Leo and two friends broke into a locked athletics storage room to retrieve a soccer ball.
Stupid.
Minor.
Then one friend damaged the lock.
The other said:
“Don’t tell.”
Leo almost agreed.
They were already in it.
He heard the phrase.
The next morning he told the coach.
Received detention.
Paid part of the repair from his allowance.
His friends were furious.
Vincent asked:
“Why tell?”
Leo shrugged.
“Because worse later.”
That was not the whole answer.
But enough.
Brandon never received another question that year.
Leo did not owe consistency.
One letter could be read.
Then silence could return.
At sixteen, Leo sent another question.
Not about the abuse.
About Northstar.
WHY DID MONEY FEEL WORTH IT IF YOU ALREADY HAD MONEY?
Brandon answered:
Because I was comparing what I had to what I thought I deserved.
Leo read that sentence twice.
Then showed Vincent.
“That family problem?”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Sometimes.”
Leo nodded.
Then put the letter away.
The scheme had once been about ghost workers.
Hidden compensation.
Restaurant debt.
Status.
But the larger pattern was simpler.
May you like
Enough had stopped feeling like enough.
Leo was beginning to understand that danger too.
