Chapter 9 - The Brother Who Stole Dante’s Face
Dante Russo had an older brother.
Matteo.
Same height.
Same build.
Close enough in appearance that strangers often confused them in old photographs.
But Matteo had supposedly died in Iraq while working private security twelve years earlier.
No body returned.
Only military-contractor confirmation.
Dante never questioned it.
Now he did.
Security footage became a nightmare.
A man appearing to be Dante had entered restricted areas on nights Dante could prove he was elsewhere.
The greenhouse camera outage.
The pitcher delivery corridor.
The medical file room.
Not Dante.
Matteo.
“How did nobody notice?” Elena asked.
Dante’s expression darkened.
“Because he knows how I move.”
Same family.
Same training.
Same childhood habits.
Matteo had spent years learning Dante’s access codes through compromised devices.
But why?
Miguel knew.
“Matteo worked for Vincent.”
Adrian shook his head.
“Vincent isn't smart enough for this.”
“No.”
Miguel looked at him.
“Matteo controls Vincent.”
There it was.
Isabella’s real mastermind.
Not a Moretti.
A Russo.
Matteo spent years feeding Vincent ambition.
Convincing him Adrian was weak.
Helping him leak protected names.
Creating problems, then selling solutions.
Why target the Morettis?
Dante knew before anyone said it.
“Our father.”
The Russo brothers’ father, Antonio, had worked for Adrian’s father.
He died in prison after taking responsibility for a Moretti financial crime.
Dante believed Antonio volunteered to protect the family.
Matteo believed he was sacrificed.
Matteo built his revenge slowly.
Not by shooting Adrian.
By making the family destroy itself.
Vincent against Adrian.
Police against witnesses.
Doctors against patients.
Isabella silenced.
Anthony hidden.
Dante framed.
“He wants me to kill my own brother,” Dante whispered.
Exactly.
The poisoning evidence.
The impersonation.
All designed so Adrian would execute Dante without asking enough questions.
Adrian stared at him.
“Would've worked five years ago.”
Dante almost smiled.
“But not now.”
Adrian looked toward Sophia.
“No.”
A five-year-old had changed more than Titan.
She had changed the pace of a man who once treated suspicion like proof.
Then Lucia finally called.
“Adrian.”
“Where are you?”
“Moving.”
“Is Anthony safe?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on.”
A boy's voice came.
“Dad?”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I’m here.”
“Grandma says you have a big dog.”
Despite everything, Adrian laughed.
“I do.”
“Can I meet him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he mean?”
Sophia grabbed the phone.
“No! He likes crackers.”
Elena nearly stopped her.
Adrian didn't.
Anthony laughed.
Two children, connected through secrets, talking like the world wasn't collapsing around them.
Then Lucia returned.
“Matteo found us.”
Adrian stood.
“What?”
“We got away.”
“Where?”
“I can't say.”
“Mother—”
“He has people listening.”
Then a vehicle crashed on Lucia’s end.
Anthony screamed.
The call went dead.
Adrian’s face changed.
Dante immediately traced the signal.
A rural road outside Worcester.
They arrived forty minutes later.
Lucia’s SUV sat against a guardrail.
Blood on the driver’s seat.
No Lucia.
No Anthony.
One message painted across the windshield:
BRING DANTE TO ME.
Underneath:
AND BRING THE DOG.
Sophia saw the photograph later.
She pointed at the words.
“He doesn't want Titan.”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“He wants what Titan remembers.”
Adrian stared at her.
A dog couldn't testify.
But Titan could identify someone.
Matteo had impersonated Dante.
Maybe humans struggled to tell them apart.
Titan wouldn’t.
The dog knew scent.
And if Titan reacted to Matteo differently than Dante, every lie collapsed.
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Matteo wasn't asking for the dog.
He was asking them to bring the one witness he could never fool.
