Chapter 8 - The Brother Who Pulled the Trigger
Luca didn't move.
Michael's hand was steady.
His eyes were empty.
“Put the gun down,” Luca said.
Michael laughed.
“You sound like him.”
“Like who?”
“Father.”
Luca took one careful step forward.
“Which one?”
Michael's expression changed.
For the first time, something resembling pain crossed his face.
“That's what you still don't understand.”
He lowered the gun slightly.
“None of them were our fathers.”
Luca stared.
Michael continued.
“Antonio was my father in every way that mattered. Adrian was the man who raised me. Daniel was the man whose blood runs through both of us.”
“And Isabella?”
Michael looked away.
“She was the only one who tried to save us.”
Luca approached.
“Then why are you working with Adrian?”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Because he told me the truth before anyone else did.”
“He's using you.”
“Maybe. But at least he never pretended to love me.”
Luca felt his chest tighten.
“I looked for you.”
Michael shook his head.
“No, you didn't.”
“I was a child.”
“So was I.”
Michael's voice cracked.
“You got a bedroom. A family. A name. I got a locked room and thirteen years of being told my mother abandoned me.”
Luca lowered his weapon.
“I didn't know.”
Michael looked at him.
“That's what makes it worse.”
A door opened behind them.
Adrian entered with two armed men.
Vanessa stood beside him.
Luca immediately turned.
“Vanessa?”
She looked terrified.
Adrian smiled.
“Did you really believe she was helping you?”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“I tried.”
Adrian raised his gun.
“She's been reporting your movements to me all night.”
Luca stared at her.
“Is that true?”
She shook her head.
“I had no choice.”
Michael laughed.
“That's what everyone says.”
Adrian gestured toward the table.
“Sign the agreement.”
Luca looked at the documents.
“Where is the will?”
“Sign first.”
“No.”
Adrian nodded toward Michael.
Michael raised his gun again.
Luca looked at his brother.
“Don't do this.”
Michael's eyes filled with tears.
“You don't get to tell me what to do.”
Adrian placed a pen on the table.
“Five minutes.”
Luca slowly reached for it.
Then he noticed something.
Michael was tapping his thumb against the side of his gun.
Twice.
A childhood habit.
Their father had taught them to use the signal whenever they were in danger.
Two taps meant wait.
Three meant run.
Michael was signaling him.
Luca understood.
He picked up the pen.
And signed the first page.
Adrian smiled.
“Excellent.”
But Luca had not signed his name.
He had drawn a small circle.
The same mark Antonio used to identify forged documents.
Adrian leaned closer.
“What is this?”
Luca threw the ink bottle into his face.
The room exploded into chaos.
Vanessa knocked a guard's gun away.
Michael fired into the ceiling.
Luca tackled Adrian.
They crashed against the table.
The documents scattered.
A gunshot rang out.
Vanessa fell.
“NO!”
Michael rushed toward her.
Luca grabbed Adrian's weapon.
But Adrian escaped through a side door.
Michael pressed his hands against Vanessa's stomach.
Blood covered his fingers.
“Stay with me!”
Vanessa looked at him.
“I'm sorry.”
Michael began crying.
Luca knelt beside her.
“Who shot you?”
She struggled to speak.
“Not Adrian.”
Luca looked around.
The two guards were gone.
Michael's gun was still in his hand.
Luca turned toward him.
“Michael?”
His brother looked horrified.
“I didn't shoot her.”
Vanessa grabbed Luca's sleeve.
“The third grave…”
“What?”
“Tomorrow…”
Her breathing became shallow.
“It's not for your mother.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Who is it for?”
Vanessa whispered:
“Adrian.”
Then she pressed something into his hand.
A small key.
“Find the room beneath the chapel.”
Her eyes closed.
Michael began screaming for help.
Luca checked her pulse.
She was alive.
Barely.
He called for an ambulance.
Then he examined the key.
A number was engraved on it.
1303\.
The date Antonio had supposedly died.
He turned toward Michael.
“Do you know what this opens?”
Michael shook his head.
But before Luca could ask anything else, his phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke.
“Congratulations, Luca.”
“Who is this?”
“Your father.”
Luca went still.
“Antonio?”
The voice laughed.
“No.”
A pause.
May you like
“Your real father.”
Then the call ended.
