A SECRET BURIED IN THE FLOORBOARDS

When we walked back through the front doors of the Romano estate, the atmosphere was completely different.

The fear was gone.

Anthony was sitting on the leather sofa in the living room, a baseball bat resting casually across his knees.

Arthur was sitting in the armchair opposite him. He looked pale, but smug. He thought he still held all the cards.

Maria was standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames.

Luca walked into the room. He didn’t look angry. He looked entirely at peace.

He walked over to the coffee table and dropped the heavy manila envelope from the vault onto the glass.

Arthur’s eyes darted to the envelope.

“You went to the bank,” Arthur noted.

“I did,” Luca said.

Luca sat down on the sofa next to his son.

“So, Arthur,” Luca began, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Let’s talk about Elias.”

Arthur’s smugness faltered slightly. “He’s my nephew. He’s innocent in all this.”

“He’s your son,” Luca corrected quietly.

Maria spun around from the fireplace. “What?”

Arthur went completely rigid. “That’s a lie.”

Luca opened the envelope. He didn’t pull out the autopsy. He didn’t pull out the wrench.

He pulled out a single photograph and slid it across the glass table.

Arthur stared at the picture of himself standing over his brother’s bloody body.

The color drained from Arthur’s face so fast I thought he was going to pass out.

Maria walked over slowly. She looked down at the photograph.

She looked at the bloody wrench in Arthur’s hand.

Then she looked at Arthur.

“You killed him,” Maria whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of twenty-eight years of misplaced guilt. “I didn’t hit him. You beat him to death.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The brilliant lawyer was finally out of lies.

“My wife found out,” Luca said, his voice ringing with a cold authority. “She confronted you. And you threatened to kill me if she told the police. You forced a dying woman to carry your sins to the grave.”

Anthony stood up, gripping the baseball bat tighter.

“Dad. Let me handle him,” Anthony said, his eyes burning with rage.

“No,” Luca said, raising a hand.

Luca picked up the original 1998 deed to the house. The one that put the property in Maria’s name to secure the trust.

He held it up.

“This is what you wanted, Arthur,” Luca said. “The house. For your son. The son you murdered your brother for.”

Arthur couldn’t look away from the deed. It was his obsession. His life’s work.

Luca struck a match.

Arthur gasped as Luca held the flame to the corner of the thick parchment.

“No! Luca, stop! That’s a legal document!” Arthur yelled, surging forward.

Anthony shoved him hard back into the armchair.

We watched in silence as the fire consumed the paper. The 1998 deed curled, blackened, and turned to ash on the glass table.

“The house doesn’t belong to Maria anymore,” Luca said calmly. “And it certainly doesn’t belong to the trust.”

“You can’t do that!” Arthur panicked. “The trust is irrevocable!”

“The trust was based on fraudulent conditions,” Luca countered smoothly. “And as of yesterday morning, when I thought I was losing my mind, I signed a new transfer of deed.”

Luca looked at Anthony.

“I gave the estate to Anthony,” Luca said. “It’s his house now. He can bulldoze it tomorrow if he wants to.”

Arthur stared at him, utterly defeated.

“You have nothing, Arthur,” Luca said, standing up. “You have no leverage. You have no house. And in about ten minutes, you’re going to have no freedom.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they approached the front gates.

Luca had called the police from the car.

Arthur looked toward the front windows. He looked at the photograph on the table.

He realized it was over.

But instead of crying, or begging, Arthur let out a dry, bitter laugh.

“You think you’ve won, Luca?” Arthur sneered, standing up slowly. “You think you’ve protected your precious family?”

Arthur looked directly at me.

“Ask your nurse why she’s really here.”

I froze.

Luca frowned, looking at me.

“Rebecca?” Luca asked.

Arthur smiled cruelly.

“Did you really think the nursing agency just randomly assigned you a widow who specializes in neuro-degenerative care exactly when I started slipping you sedatives?” Arthur asked.

My heart hammered in my chest.

Arthur looked back at Luca.