Chapter 3 - THE MAN I CALLED FAMILY
My uncle had been more of a father to me than my own father.
Now I was standing in a hospital hallway, wondering whether he'd spent seventeen years keeping my daughter from me.
And he was coming toward us.
"Keep him away from Elena," I told Marco.
"Already handled."
"And inform hospital security."
"Done."
I looked through the glass toward the emergency room where Sofia rested.
She had finally stopped crying.
But when she saw my expression, fear returned.
"He's here, isn't he?"
I nodded.
She closed her eyes.
"Oh, God."
"Sofia, listen to me."
I knelt beside her bed.
"You're not alone anymore."
She shook her head.
"You don't know what he's capable of."
"Then tell me."
Her voice trembled.
"Vittorio didn't just threaten me."
I went still.
"He told me your father had been murdered."
My stomach tightened.
"My father died in a car bombing."
Sofia nodded.
"That's what everyone believed."
I stared.
"What are you saying?"
She looked toward the door.
"Vittorio said if I ever told you about Elena, you'd die the same way your father did."
Before I could respond, footsteps approached.
Marco entered.
"He's outside."
I stood.
"Stay with Sofia."
Then I walked into the corridor.
Vittorio Mancini waited near the nurses' station.
Sixty-four years old.
Silver hair.
A tailored charcoal coat.
His familiar lion ring glittered beneath the fluorescent lights.
When he saw me, he smiled.
"Luca."
I didn't return the smile.
"Uncle."
He opened his arms.
"I heard about Enzo. Terrible business."
I remained still.
His smile faltered.
"What's wrong?"
"Why are you here?"
"To check on my nephew."
"Then why were you asking about Elena Vasquez?"
For the first time, something changed in his face.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
"Who?"
"Don't."
My voice was quiet.
"Don't lie to me."
Vittorio glanced toward Marco.
"Perhaps we should speak privately."
"We are speaking."
He sighed.
"Luca, you're upset."
"Who is Elena Vasquez?"
Silence.
Then he smiled again.
"A girl injured in an accident, apparently."
I stepped closer.
"She's my daughter."
His smile disappeared.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Vittorio said something I hadn't expected.
"Who told you that?"
I felt cold.
Not surprise.
Not denial.
He wanted to know who had revealed the truth.
"Seventeen years," I whispered.
His expression hardened.
"Luca—"
"Seventeen years!"
Several people turned toward us.
I lowered my voice.
"You knew?"
He didn't answer.
I looked at the ring.
The black stone.
The gold lions.
"Did you threaten Sofia?"
Vittorio's eyes narrowed.
"Be careful."
The words hit me harder than a confession.
Because they were the same words he'd used when I was a boy.
Whenever I asked questions about family business.
Whenever I challenged him.
Whenever I tried to make my own decisions.
"Did you arrange the attack on Enzo?"
Vittorio laughed softly.
"You're letting grief cloud your judgment."
I stared.
Then hospital security approached.
"Mr. Mancini, we're going to ask your visitor to leave the restricted area."
Vittorio looked toward me.
His expression became cold.
"You don't know what you're doing."
I stepped aside.
"Leave."
For a moment, I thought he'd refuse.
Then he adjusted his coat.
"You're making a mistake, Luca."
He walked toward the elevators.
Just before the doors closed, he turned.
May you like
And said something that made my stomach drop.
"Ask Sofia why Elena's birth certificate has another man's name on it."
