Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Third Brother
The sudden drop in temperature seemed to freeze the humid air around the food cart. Maria dropped her hand from her mouth, her face turning the color of chalk.
"What did you say?" Maria choked out, taking a stumbling step toward Marcus. Her beige trench coat brushed against the dusty side of the metal cart. "Leo... Leo was just a baby."
"Leo died behind the radiator of an abandoned laundry mat on Tenth Avenue," Marcus said, his voice devoid of inflection, yet heavy enough to crush bone. "Two weeks after the city cleared us out from under the bridge. He had the cough. You remember the cough, don't you, Elena? You gave us extra beans that last night because you knew his chest was rattling."
Elena closed her eyes tightly, tears finally spilling over her lashes to join the dust on her cheeks. She gripped the edge of the cart until her fingernails scraped the metal. "I tried to call the police. I tried to tell the shelter. They told me to mind my own business or they would shut my cart down for health code violations."
Julian stepped closer, the polished leather of his shoes crunching on a discarded soda can. "The city always protects its own interests. Just like they’re protecting the man who owns this entire block now."
Maria looked between the two well-dressed men, her confusion warring with her grief. "Why are you here? You're wealthy men now. You have suits, cars, power. Why come back to this miserable street to torture an old woman who only ever gave you food?"
"We didn't come for you, Maria," Julian said, his dark eyes shifting past her shoulder to look up at the cracked facade of a towering brick tenement building behind the cart. "We came for the landlord who charged you five hundred dollars a week to park on a public sidewalk."
Elena’s eyes flared with sudden alarm. "Don't touch Victor. He’s... he’s dangerous. He has men who make people disappear."
Marcus let out a short, humorless laugh that sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete. "Let him try. We spent our childhood dodging men with crowbars under a bridge. A slumlord with a ledger isn't going to scare us."
Julian raised two fingers. From the middle black SUV, the rear door swung open silently. A tall man in a grey tweed suit stepped out, carrying a heavy leather briefcase. He walked with the precise, rhythmic gait of a military veteran turned corporate enforcer.
"Who is that?" Elena asked, her voice trembling as she watched the stranger approach.
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"That," Julian said, watching the man draw near, "is the man who just bought every mortgage, tax lien, and outstanding debt on this entire zip code."
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