Chapter 8 - The Truth About Our Fathers"Who?"
My voice echoed through the abandoned terminal.
Matteo smiled.
"That's the question your father died asking."
Luca's face was stone.
Marco struggled against the restraints.
"Don't listen to him."
Matteo pressed the gun against Marco's shoulder.
"Quiet."
I stepped forward.
"Who put my father in the car?"
"Antonio."
I stopped.
"What?"
"Your father wanted to run."
"Liar."
"He had a wife. A little girl. He'd collected enough evidence to bury half the family."
Matteo tilted his head.
"Antonio convinced him to meet one last time."
My eyes went to Luca.
He said nothing.
Matteo continued.
"They drove together because Antonio promised federal protection."
"Then what happened?"
"Someone changed the destination."
"Who?"
Matteo smiled.
"Me."
There.
One word.
Clear.
The wire captured it.
My heartbeat thundered.
Matteo kept talking.
"I told Antonio the prosecutor had moved the meeting."
"You set them up."
"I redirected them."
"To killers you paid."
His eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
"You admitted paying Caruso."
"Caruso was supposed to frighten them."
Marco laughed weakly.
"You're still lying after fourteen years."
Matteo struck him again.
Luca stepped forward.
"If you touch him again—"
"What? You'll kill me?"
Matteo laughed.
"That's the problem with you, Luca. You inherited your father's conscience."
He looked at me.
"Antonio wanted redemption."
"By exposing you?"
"By destroying everyone."
"What happened to the car?"
Silence.
I stepped closer.
"What happened?"
Matteo's expression changed.
For the first time, I saw the memory behind his eyes.
"The brakes failed."
"You sabotaged them."
"I paid Caruso."
"To sabotage them."
"I paid him to make sure Antonio didn't reach the meeting."
My stomach turned.
"And my father?"
"Collateral damage."
The words landed harder than a slap.
I thought of my mother's white rose.
A closed casket.
Eighteen years of a lie.
"My father was collateral damage?"
Matteo realized too late what he'd said.
Luca looked toward a dark window above the terminal floor.
The signal.
Everything had been recorded.
Matteo noticed.
His face changed.
He grabbed me.
The gun pressed against my ribs.
Luca froze.
"Let her go."
Matteo laughed.
"There it is."
He pulled me tighter.
"The great Luca DeSantis finally afraid."
I could feel Matteo breathing.
I remembered Marco's hands around my throat.
Dante's van.
The sedative.
Every person who had decided my fear made me controllable.
Not again.
Luca's eyes met mine.
He didn't move.
Neither did I.
Matteo backed toward an exit.
"Tell your men to stand down."
Luca said nothing.
"Now!"
Luca lifted one hand.
The shadows remained still.
Matteo dragged me backward.
I stumbled deliberately.
His grip shifted.
That was all I needed.
I drove my heel down onto his foot.
He cursed.
I twisted.
The gun moved away from my ribs.
Luca crossed the distance between us.
Matteo fired.
The shot hit the ceiling.
Luca slammed him against a steel column.
The gun fell.
I kicked it away.
Marco's chair toppled during the struggle.
Two of Luca's men rushed in.
Seconds later, Matteo was on the floor.
Luca stood over him.
Matteo laughed.
"Do it."
Luca's fists tightened.
"Go ahead."
I saw fourteen years in Luca's face.
His father.
His brother bleeding in a hospital.
His mother tied to a chair.
My bruised neck.
Everything Matteo had taken.
"Kill me," Matteo whispered.
Luca looked at him.
Then at me.
I didn't say a word.
I didn't need to.
Luca stepped back.
"No."
Matteo looked surprised.
"You don't get to become the victim in the final chapter."
Sirens sounded outside.
Matteo's face changed.
"Police?"
Luca straightened his jacket.
"Federal investigators."
"You brought federal agents?"
"My attorneys did."
Matteo stared.
"You'll expose the family."
Luca's answer was quiet.
"You already did."
Agents entered.
Matteo was arrested on charges connected to witness intimidation, kidnapping, conspiracy, and the reopened murders of Antonio DeSantis and Thomas Marlowe.
Dante had agreed to cooperate.
The shooter from the restaurant had started talking.
The ledger existed.
The recording existed.
And now Matteo's own confession existed.
For the first time, he had nowhere to hide.
As they pulled him away, Matteo looked at me.
"You think Luca is innocent?"
I didn't answer.
He laughed.
"Ask him when he first learned your last name."
Luca went still.
I turned.
Matteo smiled.
"There it is."
My stomach tightened.
"Ask him why you were really allowed into the DeSantis house six months ago."
"Matteo," Luca warned.
"No more secrets, right?"
Agents dragged him toward the exit.
He shouted over his shoulder.
"Ask Luca about the file in the bottom drawer of his desk!"
Then he was gone.
The terminal became quiet.
I looked at Luca.
"What file?"
He didn't answer immediately.
That told me enough.
"Luca."
"I can explain."
The four most dangerous words in the English language.
We returned to the mansion before sunrise.
Luca didn't stop me when I entered his study.
Didn't stop me when I opened the bottom drawer.
Inside was a folder.
My name was printed on the tab.
ELENA MARLOWE.
My hands began to shake.
Photographs.
My employment history.
My college transcript.
My mother's address.
My bank records.
My father's old photograph.
And a report dated seven months earlier.
One month before I'd entered Luca's world.
The final page contained one sentence highlighted in yellow.
SUBJECT IS DAUGHTER OF THOMAS MARLOWE, FORMER DESANTIS ACCOUNTANT CONNECTED TO ANTONIO DESANTIS INVESTIGATION.
I slowly looked up.
Luca stood in the doorway.
"You knew."
His expression broke.
"Elena—"
May you like
"You knew who my father was before I ever walked through your door."
And suddenly the one man I had trusted most looked like another person who had decided I didn't deserve the truth.
