Page 83 of Goldflame


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I click to another set of documents. “Castellano’s trafficking operation depends on specific corrupt port officials. I’ve been compiling evidence against them for years. Smith’s money laundering through his hotel chain leaves a pattern that, when presented correctly, becomes impossible to ignore.”

“And the Marlowe’s?” Lorenzo asks.

“Victoria’s death created an opportunity. Her sister, Olivia, lacks the same charm and connections. Half the police department is ready to break ties, they simply need the right incentive.” I close the files. “When I make these dominoes fall simultaneously, the Consortium will fragment. Infighting will ensure its collapse. But the timing must be precise, and I haven’t yet figured that part out yet. But I will.”

Lorenzo whistles low. “You’ve been busy.”

“Necessarily so.” I straighten a pen on my desk that’s shifted one degree out of alignment. “The Consortium isn’t merely a criminal organization; it’s a cancer that metastasizes through everything it touches.”

“Including Julian.”

My jaw tightens. “Yes.”

But can I save him?

I’ve asked myself this question countless times since awakening from near-death. Julian—my brother, my responsibility. He’s always been my responsibility, but I haven’t always been the best mentor.

The memories surface: Julian at six, crying after a particularly cruel beating our father gave our mother;Julian at twelve, standing between our mother and Lucian’s rage; Julian at fourteen, knuckles bloody from his first underground fight.

Each time, I provided less and less comfort and guidance to him. Not because I didn’t want to, but because my father’s pressures on me became greater. I had to pull back, observe Julian more than I intervened, because father threatened to start beating him if I didn’t.

“Stop coddling him, Adrian. He needs to grow some fucking balls! Unless you’d rather I just cut his off?”

He would have done it; there’s no doubt.

Out of necessity, I became more passive in Julian’s life. Yet, look at what that’s done to him.

“Julian possesses our father’s darkness.” My voice remains steady despite the weight in my chest. “I failed him. I should have seen what was happening. Should have intervened more directly. But I don’t think it’s too late. When the time is right to strike and I enact my plan, I want to get him out rather than leave him to crumble with the rest.”

“He’s insane,” Lorenzo counters. “You saw what he did to Aurelia.”

My jaw ticks. “Everyone makes mistakes. Mother is beyond salvation. The Consortium has consumed her completely. But Julian… there’s still something worth saving there. Once we collapse the Consortium’s structure, once we’ve severed the resources feeding his worst instincts, we can extract him.”

“And if he resists?”

“Then I’ve failed him completely.”

Lorenzo studies me for a moment and then sighs. “What should I tell him about the photos?”

I consider our options, weighing variables and outcomes. “Tell him we’re taking things slow. Teasing her. More things to come.”

“That’s too vague.”

“It suggests progress without promising immediate evidence.” I press my fingertips together. “It buys us time, hopefully.”

Lorenzo nods, typing the message. “Speaking of Aurelia,” he says without looking up, “we need her on board. Given what they’ve done to her, she’ll want to help. Also”—he waves his phone—”if she was involved, we could’ve staged photos and have less to worry about.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why keep her in the dark?”

My chest tightens. The memory of Aurelia’s face at breakfast—hurt, confused, angry—produces an uncomfortable pressure in my sternum. “She’s been through enough. She needs more time to recover.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Lorenzo says, giving me a disapproving stare as if he’s my father.He is older by a few years.“She’s stronger than you realize. We should tell her.”

“I’m aware of her strength.” More aware than he knows. For ten years, I watched Aurelia navigate the Consortium’s treacherous waters. I watched her bend without breaking, adapt without surrendering. It’s always been one of the qualities I most admired—most loved—about her.

Lorenzo finishes the text, then sets hisphone down. “And while we’re on the topic of telling her the truth, when will you tell her about… your situation?”