Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER
I didn’t trust Luca Pascale.
It took me twelve seconds to decide that.
He smiled too easily.
Massimo never smiled unless something surprised him.
Luca smiled like every expression had already been rehearsed.
I helped Massimo back into his wheelchair.
Luca watched.
“Progress?”
“That’s confidential.”
He laughed.
“I’m family.”
“And I’m still his therapist.”
Massimo looked almost amused.
Luca noticed.
Something cold passed between the brothers.
“Leave us,” Massimo said.
I grabbed my bag.
Luca stepped aside.
As I passed him, he said softly, “Be careful with my brother.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“He breaks things he cares about.”
Massimo heard him.
“Get out, Luca.”
The door closed behind me.
Ten minutes later, voices exploded from inside.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“You’re getting careless.”
“And you’re getting comfortable.”
Then something smashed.
I moved toward the door.
Elena caught my arm.
“Don’t.”
“He could fall.”
“He could also shoot his brother.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Elena’s face stayed serious.
“They love each other.”
“Your family has a weird way of showing it.”
“Power makes love complicated.”
Later that night, I asked Massimo about Luca.
He ignored me.
“Was he in the car?”
His eyes snapped toward mine.
“What?”
“When you had your accident.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You react every time anyone mentions him.”
“Drop it.”
“Fine.”
I turned away.
“Tessa.”
I looked back.
Massimo’s expression had changed.
“The crash wasn’t an accident.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“A truck hit us.”
“Us?”
“My driver died.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Someone tried to kill you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who?”
“No.”
I thought about the gates.
The cameras.
The armed men.
“You’re still in danger.”
“I’m always in danger.”
“And you brought me here?”
His eyes hardened.
“You came for fifty thousand dollars.”
The words stung.
I stepped back.
“You think that’s all I care about?”
“I think everyone has a price.”
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
“What?”
“You think money explains people.”
“It usually does.”
“No. It explains you.”
He stared at me.
I immediately knew I had gone too far.
But I didn’t apologize.
Massimo looked toward the window.
“When I was twelve, my father made me watch him beat a man almost to death.”
I froze.
“He told me kindness was something weak men invented because they were afraid to take what they wanted.”
His voice was flat.
“He trained you.”
“He built me.”
“No.”
Massimo looked at me.
“He damaged you.”
For a long moment, nothing moved.
Then a phone rang in the hallway.
One of the guards rushed in.
“Boss.”
Massimo’s face changed instantly.
“What?”
The guard handed him the phone.
Massimo listened.
His expression became deadly.
“When?”
A pause.
“Who else knows?”
Another pause.
Then he ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
Massimo looked at me.
“Someone broke into your apartment last night.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
“They didn’t take anything.”
“Then why—”
“They left something.”
He handed me his phone.
A photograph filled the screen.
My bedroom.
My bed.
May you like
And on my pillow—
a single bullet.
