Chapter 7 - DOMINIC’S SHADOW
Dominic Vescari had been dead fourteen years.
That did not stop him from controlling the room.
His portrait hung over Anthony’s childhood home with the same stern expression Anthony remembered from dinner tables, funerals, and long drives where silence meant discipline.
Anthony stood beneath it.
Laurel came beside him.
“You want to break it.”
“What?”
“The portrait.”
Anthony almost smiled.
“Maybe.”
“You won’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to remember what certainty looks like when it’s wrong.”
Laurel looked at him.
For all his power, Anthony had always carried one childish loyalty.
His father had been difficult.
Cold.
Controlling.
But Anthony believed Dominic’s cruelty had rules.
Family first.
Always.
Now Joseph claimed Dominic worked with him.
Anthony did not believe it.
That was precisely why he had to consider it.
Samuel Redd arrived by noon.
Julian came separately.
Marcia refused to leave.
Preston was not part of this family, but Laurel asked that Nathan’s messages be passed to him through Diane because Nathan trusted him enough to answer.
The alliances no longer made sense on paper.
That made them more honest.
Samuel placed a small wooden box on the table.
“I kept this because Dominic told me to burn it.”
Anthony looked at him.
“You disobeyed my father?”
“Often.”
Inside were six black-and-white photographs.
Dominic.
Joseph.
Julian.
Michael.
Samuel.
And a younger Marcia.
Marcia closed her eyes.
Anthony looked at her.
“You were part of it.”
“No.”
“Then why are you there?”
“Because I followed Dominic.”
Samuel answered.
“Twenty-three years ago, Dominic met Joseph secretly.”
Anthony stared at the photograph.
“After the war started.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He wanted it stopped.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“No. He wanted control of the ending.”
Samuel nodded.
“Both.”
Anthony looked at Julian.
“You were there too.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Julian spoke slowly.
“Joseph told Dominic he could end the war if Dominic gave him three things.”
“What?”
“Access to the eastern route.”
Anthony knew that route eventually became Vescari territory.
“Second?”
“Permission to remove anyone who interfered.”
Anthony’s face hardened.
“Third?”
Julian looked toward Marcia.
“A successor.”
Silence.
Laurel frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Samuel answered.
“Joseph wanted one younger Vescari trained in his methods.”
Anthony looked at Michael’s photograph.
“Michael.”
Marcia shook her head.
“No.”
“Who?”
Nobody answered.
Anthony saw it.
Then understood.
“Me.”
Marcia whispered, “Dominic refused.”
Julian looked at him.
“At first.”
Anthony's face changed.
“At first?”
Samuel sat.
“Dominic eventually agreed to let Joseph teach you certain things indirectly.”
Anthony laughed once.
“You’re telling me my father let Joseph shape me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Men around you. Business lessons. Conflicts.”
Anthony remembered his twenties.
Situations where rivals made inexplicable mistakes.
Opportunities appeared exactly when he needed them.
Mentors came and went.
Some praised aggression.
Some taught patience.
He had believed experience shaped him.
Perhaps some of it had been designed.
“Why?”
“Dominic thought he could take Joseph’s methods without taking Joseph’s poison.”
Julian shook his head.
“No one could.”
Laurel stared at Anthony.
“Did Michael find out?”
“Yes,” Samuel said.
Anthony’s breathing slowed.
“Then Michael confronted Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Dominic told him family survival sometimes required ugly alliances.”
Anthony closed his eyes.
Michael had worshiped their father more than Anthony ever did.
That betrayal would have broken him.
Samuel continued.
“Michael decided to meet Julian and expose Joseph.”
“And died.”
“Yes.”
Anthony looked at Julian.
“Were you late?”
“I was stopped.”
“By who?”
Julian hesitated.
“A Vescari car.”
Marcia whispered, “Dominic?”
“I never saw the driver.”
Anthony turned to Samuel.
“You were Dominic’s closest man.”
Samuel's eyes lowered.
“I drove that night.”
The room froze.
Anthony stepped forward.
Laurel caught his wrist.
Not stopping.
Grounding.
Samuel did not move.
“Did you kill Michael?”
“No.”
“Did you stop Julian?”
“Yes.”
“On my father’s order?”
“Yes.”
Anthony's voice became almost inaudible.
“Why?”
“He told me Michael was walking into an ambush.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“There was no ambush until you stopped me.”
Samuel looked at him.
“I know that now.”
Anthony stared.
Michael went alone.
Julian was prevented from reaching him.
Someone then killed Michael.
Every piece benefited Joseph.
“Did Dominic know?” Anthony asked.
Samuel's silence returned.
“Answer.”
“I don’t know.”
Anthony moved closer.
“I need better.”
Samuel met his eyes.
“Dominic spent the rest of his life believing Joseph killed Michael.”
“So he broke with Joseph.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Joseph never found?”
“Because someone warned him before Dominic’s men reached his safe house.”
Anthony looked around the room.
“Who knew?”
Samuel.
Marcia.
Dominic.
Julian.
One other person.
Paul.
Anthony’s uncle.
Nathan’s supposed father.
The man who had raised Joseph’s son.
Anthony slowly turned toward Marcia.
“Paul knew about the safe house.”
She looked horrified.
“Yes.”
“Where is Paul now?”
Nobody had seen him since the banquet.
He had raised his hand against Laurel.
Then been separated.
Anthony had assumed his men were watching him.
He called security.
The answer came quickly.
Paul’s room was empty.
A rear gate camera showed him leaving in a maintenance truck shortly after dawn.
Anthony ended the call.
Laurel whispered, “Paul.”
Julian stood.
“If Paul warned Joseph then, he may still be protecting him now.”
Marcia shook her head.
“No.”
Anthony looked at her.
“You raised Nathan with Paul.”
“Yes.”
“Did Paul know Nathan was Joseph’s son?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
Marcia stopped.
That was the problem.
Certainty had become expensive.
Anthony looked toward Dominic’s portrait.
His father had spent years hiding Joseph.
Paul had spent years raising Joseph’s child.
And that night, every surviving branch of the family was expected inside Joseph’s old packing house.
Anthony finally understood.
May you like
The meeting was not a negotiation.
It was a reunion.
