The maid’s toddler said a man with your face followed me, and the mafia boss realized his family had buried a living brother

"You traitorous old bastard," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet tone as he aimed his gun directly at Vance's chest. "Thirty years you served my father. Thirty years I trusted you with our family's business."

Vance pulled a small snub-nosed revolver from his coat pocket, his hands shaking violently as he aimed it between the two brothers.

"Your father was a fool!" Vance spat, his eyes wild with desperation. "He built Blackwater Bay, but he didn't have the stomach to take the real money from Boston! He kept us small! He kept us legitimate!"

"He kept us alive," Vincent corrected him coldly.

"I made this company sixty million dollars!" Vance shouted. "And when Evan found the accounts, he was going to destroy everything I built! I had to take him out!"

"And what about tonight?" Evan asked, taking a step forward, his shotgun resting against his hip. "You brought a strike squad to Vincent's home. You were going to kill him, too."

"He was soft!" Vance cried out, his voice cracking with hysteria. "He spent four years grieving for a ghost while the Boston Syndicate offered me full control of the Rhode Island ports! I didn't have a choice!"

"You always had a choice, Richard," Vincent said smoothly.

Outside the cottage, the soft sound of footsteps echoed on the gravel path.

Vincent’s eyes flicked toward the side window. Through the glass, he saw four dark figures moving around the perimeter of the cottage. Boston Syndicate men. Vance hadn't come alone.

"Drop the gun, Richard," Evan warned, noticing the shadows outside as well.

"No!" Vance screamed, squeezing the trigger of his revolver.

POP!

The shot echoed loudly inside the small cottage. The bullet struck the stone fireplace near Vincent's head, showering sparks into the dark room.

Before Vance could fire a second time, Evan raised his shotgun and fired once.

The heavy blast blew Vance back against the stone hearth. The old man slumped onto the floorboards, his revolver slipping from his lifeless fingers, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

At the same instant, the cottage windows shattered outward as automatic gunfire raked the wood walls from the outside.