The Man Beside Me in the Rain
Chapter 03 - The Man Beside Me in the Rain
Marco did not reach for his gun.
Good.
Neither did I.
We stood inside Warehouse 19 with six men pretending not to watch.
I said:
“Clear the room.”
Marco frowned.
“Dominic.”
“Everyone out.”
They obeyed.
The heavy door closed.
Now only us.
“What did Colombo say?”
“That you knew Mateo Alvarez was here the night he died.”
Marco’s face changed.
Not guilt exactly.
Recognition.
“Yes.”
One word.
My anger sharpened.
“You want to add context before I break something?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Marco sat on an old crate.
For once, not asking permission.
“Mateo contacted me.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before he died.”
“Why?”
“He found records inside the electrical system.”
I stared.
“That makes no sense.”
It did once Marco explained.
Warehouse 19 housed an old private data relay used before we moved operations to encrypted cloud systems.
Physical backup hardware.
Route logs.
Payroll.
Off-book transfers.
Mateo was rewiring the building for a contractor.
He opened a locked utility cabinet and found storage drives.
He recognized Niko’s name.
Then mine.
Then Vincent Colombo’s.
He called Niko first.
Niko panicked.
Called Marco.
“Why you?”
“Because I managed internal security.”
Yes.
Of course.
Mateo met Marco privately.
He handed over a copy.
Marco reviewed it.
The ledger showed Vincent feeding route information to Colombo fronts.
But also something else.
Someone inside my organization was buying properties after attacks drove values down.
Shell company.
Marco could not identify the owner.
“Sebastian?”
Wrong story. Need distinct names. Let's use Renato Moretti, Dominic's uncle/cousin maybe. Better new internal villain. Let's set "Aldo Moretti", Dominic's uncle and consigliere? Need keep consistent. User only has Dominic and Marco. Could introduce "Uncle Aldo", Dominic's late father's brother. Let's do.
“Uncle Aldo?”
Marco looked away.
“No.”
“Who?”
He said:
“Your father.”
My chest went cold.
My father had been dead nine years.
“What are you saying?”
“The shell companies started under him.”
Marco found transfers linking my father, Carlo Moretti, to early property acquisitions.
Attacks happened.
Competitors weakened.
Carlo purchased.
Years later, Vincent used the same playbook with Colombos.
Maybe inherited.
Maybe copied.
Mateo had stumbled into proof that the Moretti empire’s “legitimate” expansion was built partly on manufactured violence long before I ran it.
“And you hid it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marco looked at me.
“Because your father was dying.”
Cancer.
Private.
Only family knew.
He had six months.
Marco thought exposing him would fracture the organization.
Start war.
Destroy businesses.
So he buried the ledger.
Promised Mateo he would investigate quietly.
Mateo refused.
Wanted federal authorities.
Then Niko intervened.
“Did Niko kill him?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Nobody meant to.”
I hated that sentence.
Mateo returned to the construction site after hours to retrieve the original drive he had hidden in the electrical cage.
Niko followed.
Marco followed Niko.
They argued.
Mateo climbed the scaffold to reach the junction level.
Niko grabbed his leg.
Not to throw him.
To stop him leaving.
The scaffold brace shifted.
Already defective.
Mateo fell.
Three stories.
“Was he alive?”
“Yes.”
My voice changed.
“What did you do?”
“Called ambulance.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“Then why hide the rest?”
“Because Niko begged me.”
There it was.
Niko panicked.
Said Elena would lose everything if the case opened into organized crime.
Said Sofia would grow up with her father labeled a criminal associate.
Marco agreed to let the death remain a construction accident.
He took the ledger copy.
Niko recovered the key.
They split the evidence.
“What happened to the ledger?”
Marco looked toward the chalk sentence.
“Gone.”
“Who took it?”
“Your father.”
I laughed once.
“Dead man again.”
“He was alive then.”
Nine years ago? Wait Mateo died two years before Elena started, and Dominic's father died nine years ago. Timeline mismatch. Need fix: Mateo died maybe 4 years ago, father died 5 years ago? User didn't specify. We can set father died three years ago? But chap1 says for twenty years built life; no father death mention. Let's revise in story: "My father died eighteen months after Mateo." So introduce father death later. Need patch this section. Let's continue carefully: Carlo Moretti was alive when Mateo died, died eighteen months later. Good.
“My father was alive then.”
Carlo summoned Marco after learning about the ledger.
Took the copy.
Said he would “handle history.”
Then told Marco:
“Dominic never sees this.”
“Why?”
Marco’s eyes filled.
“Because he knew you worshipped him.”
That hurt.
Not because true.
Because accurate.
I had spent my adult life making my father larger than he was.
Founder.
Survivor.
Man who rebuilt after old wars.
Maybe he had manufactured some of them.
“Why didn’t you tell me after he died?”
“Cowardice.”
Simple.
At least Marco knew the word.
Then:
“And because by then you were becoming him.”
Silence.
I looked at my hands.
Tattoos.
Scars.
Rings.
“What does that mean?”
“You were winning.”
He laughed bitterly.
“We all liked winning.”
That was worse than a threat.
Not fear.
Benefit.
Marco benefited from my father’s version of history.
Then from mine.
Truth became expensive.
So he waited.
“Did you betray Elena’s route?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Yes.”
My body went still.
“Vincent was right.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Marco stood.
“Brooklyn Navy Yard. Building C.”
I reached for the door.
He stepped between me and it.
I nearly hit him.
“Move.”
“No.”
“What?”
“If we go there like this, we lose them.”
“You have three seconds.”
“Vincent wants Red Hook because the city is forcing redevelopment. Your leases block his project.”
“I know.”
“He doesn't need you to sign willingly.”
“What?”
“He needs proof you attacked Colombo territory while holding city permits.”
My jaw tightened.
A political trap.
Violence as leverage.
Again.
“He'll livestream any assault.”
Marco nodded.
“Kidnapping Elena and Sofia is bait.”
“Then why tell me location?”
“Because he wants you there angry.”
I stared at my oldest friend.
“You knew all this and said nothing.”
“I was trying to confirm.”
“No.”
My voice lowered.
“You were deciding for me.”
Marco looked away.
Same disease.
Different man.
I pulled out my phone.
Called Miriam Voss, an Assistant U.S. Attorney I had paid lawyers to avoid for years.
She answered after five rings.
“Dominic Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“This should be interesting.”
“I need help extracting two kidnapping victims.”
Silence.
Then:
“And what do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
She laughed.
“I don't believe you.”
“Neither do I.”
I looked at Marco.
“But call tactical.”
Twenty minutes later, federal agents began planning.
No Moretti assault.
No burned docks.
No war.
That choice felt like cutting off my own hand.
Maybe that was why it mattered.
Then Marco's phone buzzed.
One message from Niko.
A photograph.
Elena and Sofia.
Alive.
Sitting on the floor of a warehouse office.
Niko beside them.
Gun in his hand.
Not pointing at them.
At the camera.
Underneath:
I DIDN'T GIVE THEM UP. I'M TRYING TO GET THEM OUT.
I stared.
The supposed traitor was inside with my family.
And according to his next message, Vincent Colombo was not the man giving orders.
Someone else was.
May you like
Someone Niko called:
THE WIDOW.
