Chapter 24 - Midnight Over the Atlantic
The private Gulfstream cut through the turbulence thirty thousand feet above the dark, endless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Inside the cabin, the hum of the twin jet engines was the only sound competing with the quiet clinking of ice against crystal.
Gabriel sat across from me, a leather portfolio open on the mahogany table between us. He hadn't touched his whiskey. He had spent the last three hours reviewing digitized manifests from the European maritime registry, cross-referencing cargo shipments from Rotterdam to Montreal dating back across the past decade.
Every page was a testament to a ghost.
"He never stopped," Gabriel said quietly, his thumb tracing the digital signature on a 2018 bill of lading. "Every time I expanded our operations into pharmaceutical transport, every time I thought I was cleaning the family name and moving our revenue into legitimate freight... he was skimming twenty percent off the top through Antwerp and Rotterdam."
"He was using Julian," I said, leaning forward. My passport sat on the table beside the brass key, which Gabriel had returned to me before we boarded at O'Hare. "Your father needed someone who understood the lake ports without raising suspicion. Julian knew every slip, every crane, every inspector from Detroit to Chicago."
Gabriel looked up, his dark eyes hollowed by betrayal. "And you think Julian was just a victim in this?"
"He's my brother, Gabriel!"
"He let you mourn him, Maya!" Gabriel’s voice rose, sharp as a switchblade, slicing through the pressurized quiet of the cabin. "He watched you tear yourself apart for six months! He watched your father drink himself into the hospital after the funeral! Julian let the whole world believe he was rotting in the mud so he could leverage fifty million dollars against Dominic Rossi!"
The truth of his words hit me like ice water. I wanted to deny it, wanted to scream that Julian had no choice, that Reyes and Sterling had backed him into a corner. But the cold arithmetic of the bank drafts didn't lie. Julian hadn't fled with an empty pocket. He had wired the funds to an account bearing our father’s name.
He had made our father an accessory to international money laundering to ensure Dominic Rossi couldn't eliminate Vance & Sons without exposing his own hidden empire.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the drone of the engines. "If my brother stole fifty million from your father, why aren't you handing this to your family enforcers? Why bring me to Rotterdam?"
Gabriel leaned back against the leather seat, staring out the oval window into the pitch-black sky.
"Because ten years ago, my father gave me a gold signet ring on his supposed deathbed," Gabriel said, his voice flat with suppressed rage. "He told me that the only thing that matters in this life is the line between who is inside the family and who is outside. He made me swear to protect the Rossi name at all costs."
He turned back to look at me, his gaze fierce and raw.
"For ten years, I lived in his shadow. I carried the guilt of every compromise I made because I thought I was honoring his legacy. Now I find out he spent that entire decade living like a king in the Netherlands, using your brother to bleed my operations dry, and waiting for me to fail so he could take back the Chicago docks."
He reached across the table, his hand covering mine, his grip tight and warm.
"I’m not going to Rotterdam for the money, Maya. And I’m not going to protect my father. I’m going to end his reign. But if Julian crossed the line—if Julian was the one who pointed Dominic’s hitmen toward our table at Il Canto—I will not protect him from the consequences."
"Julian wouldn't do that," I whispered, though the certainty in my voice was fading fast. "He wouldn't hurt me. He wouldn't hurt our father."
"We’ll know in four hours," Gabriel said, letting go of my hand and closing the portfolio. "My advance team secured a safe house near the Erasmus Bridge. The *Caledonia* is scheduled to clear dry dock and head for open waters tomorrow night at midnight. If we don't pull Julian out before the ship clears the harbor, he’ll disappear into international waters. And we will never see him again."
I turned toward the small window, watching the faint glow of the wingtip light flash against the dark clouds.
Julian had sent the key to me because he believed I was his salvation. But as the plane began its long descent toward the coast of the Netherlands, I realized the terrifying truth: I wasn't bringing my brother a rescue.
May you like
I was bringing him Gabriel Rossi.
***
