Chapter 10
The next two weeks were tense.
Emilio didn't file his lawsuit. Not yet. But he didn't go away either.
He was spotted outside the estate. He sent threatening text messages. He called Father's business partners, spreading lies.
Father increased security. Bodyguards were everywhere. The gates were locked twenty-four hours a day. No one got in or out without being checked.
Marco was adjusting to his new life. He spent his days learning about the family business. Father taught him everything. And Marco was a quick study. He was smart. He was honest. He had a way with people that Emilio never had.
The business partners loved him. The house staff respected him. Even Father, who had been so closed off since Mother's death, seemed to come alive when he was with Marco.
They were building something. A real father-son relationship.
And I... I was healing.
For the first time since Mother died, I didn't feel like I was carrying the weight of the world alone. I had Marco. I had Father. I had people who loved me and supported me.
But I couldn't stop worrying about Emilio.
He was my brother. Blood of my blood. And I knew him. I knew how far he would go when he was cornered.
My worry turned out to be justified.
It happened on a Tuesday night.
Marco and I had gone into the city for dinner. We were at a small Italian restaurant, talking and laughing. For a few hours, we forgot about the threats. About the tension. About Emilio.
We were walking back to the car when it happened.
A van pulled up beside us. The side door slid open.
Two men jumped out.
They grabbed Marco.
I screamed.
"Lucia, run!" Marco shouted. He fought back. He was strong. But there were two of them. And they had weapons.
One of the men hit Marco over the head. He crumpled to the ground.
I tried to run. But the second man grabbed me. He put his hand over my mouth. He dragged me toward the van.
I bit his hand. Hard.
He cursed and let go. I fell to the ground.
I looked up. And I saw him.
Emilio.
He stood in the doorway of the van. His face was hard. Cold.
"Emilio!" I screamed. "What are you doing? These are your own family!"
He didn't answer. He just nodded at the men.
They picked up Marco and threw him into the van.
One of the men turned to grab me again.
But then headlights appeared. A car was coming down the street. Fast.
The men panicked. They jumped into the van. The door slid shut. The van sped away.
I lay on the ground, shaken. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
Marco was gone.
Emilio had taken him.
The car that had scared them off pulled up beside me. The driver jumped out. It was Marco's friend from the library. He'd seen what happened. He called the police.
I called Father.
"Father," I said. My voice was barely a whisper. "They took him. Emilio took Marco."
Father was at the restaurant in ten minutes. The police arrived shortly after.
I told them everything. What happened. What Emilio looked like. The van. The men.
Father was beyond angry. He was terrifying.
He called Vincenzo. He called every contact he had. He put every resource the family had into finding Marco.
"They won't get away with this," he said. His voice was ice. "I will burn the whole city to the ground before I let them hurt my son."
The hours that followed were the longest of my life.
We waited in the study. The phone rang every few minutes. Leads. Tips. Sightings. But nothing concrete.
Emilio hadn't called. He hadn't made any demands.
That scared me more than anything.
If he wanted money, he would have called. If he wanted to negotiate, he would have called.
But he hadn't called.
Which meant he didn't want anything from us.
He just wanted to hurt us.
It was three in the morning when Vincenzo called.
"We found them," he said. "An old warehouse on the docks. Emilio and two men. And Marco. He's alive. But he's hurt."
Father was already moving. "Let's go."
The police wanted to handle it. They wanted to set up a perimeter. To negotiate.
Father didn't have time for that.
He and Vincenzo and four of his best men drove to the warehouse. I went with them. Father tried to make me stay behind. But I refused.
Marco was my brother. I wasn't going to let him face this alone.
We arrived at the warehouse. It was dark. Abandoned. The only light came from a single window on the second floor.
Father's men surrounded the building. They moved quickly. Quietly.
Vincenzo kicked down the door.
We rushed inside.
The warehouse was empty except for a small area in the center. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling.
Marco was tied to a chair. His face was bruised. His lip was split. Blood ran down his forehead.
Emilio stood in front of him. He held a gun.
The two men who had kidnapped Marco stood in the corner. When they saw us, they put their hands up. They surrendered immediately. They were just hired thugs. They didn't want to die for Emilio.
Emilio didn't even look at them. His eyes were on Father.
"Let him go, Emilio," Father said. His voice was calm. But I could see the rage beneath the surface. "This is between us. He has nothing to do with this."
"Nothing to do with this?" Emilio laughed. A wild, crazy sound. "He's your new favorite son, isn't he? The replacement. The one who's better than me in every way."
He pressed the gun to Marco's head.
"Emilio, no!" I screamed.
Marco looked at me. He didn't look scared. He looked... sad.
"It's okay, Lucia," he said.
"Shut up!" Emilio shouted. He pressed the gun harder. "You don't get to speak. You don't get to be the hero. You're nothing. You're just a mistake."
He looked at Father.
"You did this," he said. "You made me this way. You always loved Mother more. You always loved Lucia more. And now you love him more. I was never good enough. Never."
Father took a step forward.
"You were always enough, Emilio," he said. "You were my son. I loved you. But you threw it all away. You chose anger. You chose resentment. You chose to hurt the people who loved you."
"I didn't have a choice!" Emilio shouted. "You never gave me a choice!"
"You had every choice," Father said. He took another step forward. "And you chose wrong. Every single time."
Emilio's hand shook. The gun wavered.
I saw my chance.
I ran forward.
"Lucia, no!" Father shouted.
I tackled Emilio. The gun went off. The bullet hit the ceiling.
We fell to the ground. I grabbed the gun and threw it across the room.
Father's men rushed forward. They pulled Emilio off me. They pinned him to the ground.
Father ran to Marco. He untied him. He held him.
"Are you okay?" Father asked. His voice was full of emotion.
"I'm fine," Marco said. He smiled through the blood. "Just a few bruises."
I stood up. I looked at Emilio. He lay on the ground, face down. The men held him.
He looked up at me. His eyes were full of hate.
"You ruined everything," he said.
I shook my head.
"No, Emilio," I said. "You ruined it yourself."
The police arrived minutes later. They arrested Emilio. They arrested the two thugs.
They led Emilio out in handcuffs. He didn't look at me. Didn't look at Father.
He just stared straight ahead. Empty. Broken.
As the police car drove away, I stood between Father and Marco. Father put his arm around both of us.
We were alive.
May you like
We were together.
And for the first time in a long time, I thought we might actually be okay.
