Chapter 10 - The Doctor's Confession
Dr. Vincent Aris looked like a ghost standing in my foyer. The rain dripped from his expensive wool coat, pooling on my hardwood floor.
Luca instantly moved in front of me, shielding me with his massive frame. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need to. The lethal tension rolling off him was enough to make the air in the room feel heavy.
“Put the gun down, Uncle,” Luca commanded, his voice unnervingly steady. “You’re an old man. You won't make it out of this room.”
Vincent laughed, a wet, rattling sound that turned into a violent cough. “I’m dying anyway, Luca. Stage four pancreatic. The doctors give me a month. I don't care about making it out of this room. I only care about cleaning up the loose ends before I see God.”
“You think God will forgive you for murdering my mother?” I screamed from behind Luca, my anger overriding my fear.
Vincent’s pale eyes shifted to me. He raised the faded photograph in his left hand.
“I didn't murder your mother, Katherine,” Vincent gasped, leaning heavily on his cane. “I loved your mother. We all did.”
He threw the photograph onto the floor at Luca’s feet.
Luca glanced down. I peeked around his shoulder.
It was an old Polaroid, taken at least thirty years ago. It showed three people laughing on a boat. My mother, beautiful and young, her hair blowing in the wind. Standing beside her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, was a handsome man who looked exactly like an older version of Luca. Antonio Santoro.
And standing on the other side of my mother, looking at her with a quiet, tragic longing, was a young Dr. Vincent Aris.
“You loved her?” Luca asked, confusion flashing across his stoic face.
“She was the light of this entire miserable family,” Vincent wheezed, tears mixing with the rain on his wrinkled face. “Antonio took her. He always took what he wanted. He made her his mistress. He gave her a child.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “He gave her you.”
“If you loved her, why did you cut her brakes?” I cried.
“I didn't!” Vincent roared, banging his cane against the floor. “I tried to save her! Antonio’s wife—your mother, Luca—she found out about the affair. She found out Antonio was funneling millions in bearer bonds to Maria to secure Katherine’s future.”
The truth hit me like a physical blow.
Sofia and Luca’s mother. The matriarch of the Santoro family. She was the one who ordered the hit on my mother.
“Your mother ordered the hit on Antonio for his betrayal,” Vincent confessed, looking at Luca with pity. “And then she ordered the hit on Maria. I found out about the car bomb too late. I tried to call Maria that night. I tried to warn her not to get in the car. But she didn't answer.”
Vincent collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor, the gun falling from his limp fingers. He was sobbing into his hands.
“I forged your psychiatric papers for Nathan because Sofia forced me to,” Vincent wept, not looking at me. “Sofia is just like her mother. Ruthless. Vicious. But when I heard you had survived the vault... when I heard you found the sewing box... I knew I had to come tell you the truth before I died.”
I stood frozen in the foyer, the world tilting beneath my feet. The woman I had hated for the last hour wasn't the killer. The killer was long dead, buried in a lavish mafia mausoleum.
Luca stared at his uncle, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths. He had just learned his own mother ordered the murder of his father.
Luca picked up the gun from the floor. He unloaded the clip, ejected the chambered round, and tossed the empty weapon onto a side table.
“Go home, old man,” Luca said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Die in your bed. You are no longer family.”
Vincent didn't argue. He slowly struggled to his feet, leaning on his cane, and walked out into the rain without a word.
Luca shut the heavy door, locking the deadbolt. He turned around and leaned against the wood, closing his eyes. For the first time since I met him, the invincible Mafia boss looked completely shattered.
I walked over to him. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing that felt right. I reached out and gently took his hand. His fingers were freezing.
He opened his eyes and looked down at me.
“We share the same father,” Luca whispered, the reality of it finally settling between us. “You are my sister.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, tears spilling over my cheeks. “I’m sorry for everything this family has done to you.”
Luca shook his head. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box.
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“Don't apologize, Katherine,” Luca said softly. “Because out of all the violence, and all the lies, my father did one thing right. He brought you into this world.”
He opened the velvet box. Inside rested a small, gold family heirloom—a locket bearing the Santoro crest.
