Chapter 6 - Arthur Rossi’s Missing Brother
“No.”
The word left my mouth before thought.
My father was Michael Mercer.
He raised me.
Packed school lunches.
Taught me to ride a bicycle.
Cried at my graduation.
Died of pancreatic cancer when I was twenty-four.
Daniel was my uncle.
That was reality.
Except Matteo Rossi had looked into a camera seventeen years earlier and called me Daniel’s daughter.
My mother refused to answer the phone.
That was answer enough.
I drove to her house with Maya.
Arthur did not come.
My request.
I needed one family betrayal at a time.
Mom opened the door and saw my face.
Then sat down.
“Tell me.”
She cried immediately.
That made me angrier.
“Tell me.”
Daniel was my biological father.
He was nineteen.
My mother was twenty-one.
They were not related then, obviously—Michael Mercer was Daniel’s older cousin, not brother. After Daniel’s girlfriend disappeared, Michael eventually married my mother and legally adopted me.
My family simplified the story over time.
Daniel became “Uncle Daniel.”
Michael became Dad.
Nobody told me.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel was dangerous.”
“Or because you thought he was.”
Mom wiped her face.
“He loved you. But he kept getting involved with people at the port.”
Then Marina Rossi discovered Daniel was helping Matteo investigate Mirror Bay.
She threatened to expose my paternity and take evidence to family court claiming my mother had concealed Daniel’s rights.
That alone was not enough leverage.
So Marina did something smarter.
She created documents implying Daniel used my identity in thefts.
Even when I was a child.
A fake trust.
Fake transfers.
A paper trail with my name at the center.
The same method she used now.
“She’s been using me for seventeen years?”
Mom nodded.
Daniel disappeared to protect me.
Or believed he did.
Matteo disappeared soon after.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood.
“You lied to me every day.”
“I gave you a father who loved you.”
“That is not the part I’m angry about.”
Michael was my father.
Biology did not change that.
But truth stolen from me did.
Mom whispered,
“Daniel asked me six months ago if Todd worked for Gridline.”
“Why?”
“He said Marina was moving again.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I thought he was paranoid.”
I laughed.
Everyone protected me with silence.
It was becoming a family tradition.
Arthur was waiting outside when I left.
I frowned.
“I asked you not to come.”
“I didn’t go inside.”
“Technical compliance.”
“I’m learning.”
I got into his car because rain had started again and I was tired of being dramatic in driveways.
He said nothing.
That helped.
Finally:
“Matteo believed Daniel.”
“I know.”
“My brother was difficult to fool.”
“Was?”
Arthur looked out the windshield.
“I have spent eight years speaking about him as though he is both alive and dead. Grammar becomes complicated.”
That hurt.
I realized our conspiracies overlapped differently.
I had just learned one father was biological and another chosen.
Arthur had never learned whether his brother had a grave.
“Do you think Daniel killed Matteo?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if he had, Marina would not have spent seventeen years controlling him.”
Fair.
Then Gabriel called.
A man had surrendered at a federal building in Tacoma.
Daniel Mercer.
My biological father.
I nearly laughed because my life had lost all sense of pacing.
He agreed to talk only if I was present.
Maya objected.
Then agreed because apparently we were all exhausted.
Daniel looked older than photographs.
Gray beard.
Deep lines.
Thin.
When I entered the interview room, he stood.
“Natalie.”
I remained near the door.
“Don’t.”
He sat again.
“What should I call you?”
“Daniel.”
Pain crossed his face.
Good.
He deserved some.
He told everything.
He helped Matteo investigate Mirror Bay in 2009.
Marina found out.
Matteo wanted to go public.
Daniel wanted to take evidence and run.
They argued.
On the night Matteo vanished, Daniel was supposed to meet him at Pier Forty-Six.
Matteo never arrived.
Instead, Marina called Daniel.
She had access to my school enrollment.
My mother’s address.
Everything.
She promised if Daniel disappeared, I stayed untouched.
He did.
For years, he lived under different names.
Then Todd entered my life.
Daniel recognized him through an old Gridline contact.
Todd—Thomas Leonard—had worked for Marina’s logistics network long before meeting me.
“He targeted me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Not immediately.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“And you did nothing.”
“I started collecting evidence.”
I laughed.
“Men in this family love collecting evidence while women get lied to.”
He flinched.
Good.
He admitted contacting Todd.
Pretended he wanted into the processor theft.
That was how he got close.
Brittany wanted out.
Daniel helped her.
But Marina discovered it.
“Did you kill Brittany?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yes.”
“Marina?”
“No.”
Daniel looked toward the mirror.
“Huxley.”
I blinked.
“Who?”
Wrong story, apparently.
He corrected:
“Marcus Redd.”
M.R.
The initials on Todd’s phone were not Marina Rossi.
Not always.
Marcus Redd was Gridline’s founder and CEO.
Public tech darling.
Marina’s business partner.
Arthur went still.
Gridline had been built partly with Mirror Bay money.
That explained everything.
Redd controlled digital identity systems.
Deepfakes.
Port authorization.
Telematics.
He designed the technical layer.
Marina owned the routes.
Todd and Brittany executed.
Daniel infiltrated.
“Where is the processor shipment?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Redd has it.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur asked,
“And Matteo?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Alive.”
Arthur stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I saw him six months ago.”
The room changed.
Arthur grabbed the table.
“Where?”
“Private facility outside Vancouver.”
“Why?”
“Marina kept him alive because he memorized account structures she couldn’t recreate.”
Arthur’s voice broke slightly.
“Eight years?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
Arthur stood.
For one second, I thought he might hit him.
He didn’t.
“Address.”
Daniel gave it.
Arthur left before anyone could stop him.
I followed.
Not because of romance.
Because I recognized what panic did to good decisions.
In the hallway, I caught his arm.
“Arthur.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Natalie.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
The fury in his face cracked.
“Your brother is alive.”
“I know.”
“That means you do not rush into Canada with guns.”
His jaw tightened.
“I wasn’t going to.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He exhaled.
“I was considering it.”
“We use law enforcement.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“I’m getting used to it.”
For the first time since the tape played, Arthur laughed.
Very quietly.
Then said,
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
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“To get my brother back.”
This time, I said yes.
