Chương 8 - WHAT VITTORIO HELDLuca did not move.
“My gun?”
Matteo nodded.
“The lion one.”
Vittorio spread his hands.
“There.”
He looked at Luca.
“Now we can finally stop pretending Sofia was helpless.”
Elena stood.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she came armed.”
Bianca stared.
“You told me she attacked you.”
“She did.”
Luca turned.
“You never told me any of this.”
“Because your wife was dead, your son was traumatized, and telling you Sofia tried to shoot me would have started a war inside your own house.”
Elena looked toward the red coat they had brought back from the warehouse.
“Tell it from the beginning.”
Vittorio laughed softly.
“You think this is a hospital interview?”
“I think lies have gotten enough people shot.”
Something in her voice made him answer.
“Sofia discovered the drug route. She believed Luca knew.”
“I didn’t,” Luca said.
“I know.”
Vittorio’s admission surprised everyone.
He looked at Luca.
“You were always too sentimental about narcotics.”
“Children were dying.”
“And hundreds of men depended on the money from those ports.”
“There are other ways to earn.”
“For you.”
Vittorio’s anger finally showed.
“You were born Santoro. You could decide one morning that the old rules offended you and walk toward legitimacy.”
His voice hardened.
“The rest of us built our lives around this family.”
There was the motive.
Not simple greed.
Fear.
Resentment.
A lifetime of believing survival depended on a machine Luca had suddenly decided to dismantle.
Vittorio continued.
“Sofia was going to Rizzo. I went to stop her.”
“With Luca’s pistol?” Elena asked.
“No.”
He looked at Luca.
“She had it.”
Luca frowned.
“How?”
“She took it from your study before leaving.”
Bianca whispered, “That part is true.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I saw the gun in Sofia’s bag earlier.”
Vittorio nodded.
“She pointed it at me.”
Matteo covered his ears.
Elena immediately took him toward the doorway.
But the boy stopped.
“No.”
His voice was small.
“I wanna finish.”
Luca crossed to him.
“You don’t have to.”
Matteo looked at his father.
“Yes.”
The boy swallowed.
“Mama yelled.”
“What did she say?”
“That Uncle Vittorio was bad.”
Vittorio looked away.
“And then?”
“She had the gun.”
“And then?”
Matteo squeezed Elena’s hand.
“Uncle Vittorio took it.”
Vittorio nodded.
“We struggled.”
Elena looked at the red coat.
“The bullet entered Sofia from behind.”
Vittorio’s eyes shifted.
“That can happen in a struggle.”
“No.”
She lifted the coat.
“Not like this.”
She pointed to the hole.
“High back. Downward angle.”
“So?”
“So Sofia was turned away from the shooter.”
Silence.
Elena continued.
“No powder scorching around the fabric. The muzzle wasn’t close.”
Vittorio’s expression changed.
“A frightened woman pointing a pistol at you doesn’t get shot in the back from several feet away during a struggle.”
Luca stared at him.
Vittorio said nothing.
Bianca whispered, “You lied to me.”
His face hardened.
“I did what was necessary.”
There it was.
Not a confession born easily.
A wall finally cracking because there was nowhere left to hide.
Luca stepped forward.
“You shot her.”
“She was going to destroy everything.”
“You shot my wife in the back.”
“She was going to send you to prison.”
“That was my consequence to face!”
Vittorio shouted back.
“And Matteo’s?”
The room froze.
“What happened when your enemies learned his father had become an informant? What happened to every family whose income depended on us? What happened when Palermo smelled weakness?”
His eyes were wet now.
“I loved you like a brother.”
“Then you should have trusted me.”
“I trusted the man you used to be.”
Luca’s voice dropped.
“That man was the problem.”
Vittorio looked at Matteo.
“I never meant for him to see.”
The boy stared back.
That seemed to hurt Vittorio more than Luca’s hatred.
Marco entered quietly from the hall.
Behind his back, hidden from Vittorio, he held up a folded copy of Sofia’s manifests.
Luca noticed.
Earlier, before Vittorio arrived, Luca had made one decision.
No more family justice.
Marco had been instructed to deliver copies to Magistrate Rizzo.
He had succeeded.
Vittorio saw the look between them.
“What did you do?”
Luca answered calmly.
“What Sofia tried to do.”
Vittorio’s face changed.
“You went to the state?”
“I went to the truth.”
“You fool.”
Vittorio moved fast.
He pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket.
Marco drew.
Bianca screamed.
“Don’t!”
Vittorio caught Matteo by the shoulder and pulled the boy against him.
Everything stopped.
Luca’s face became terrifying.
“Let him go.”
“I won’t hurt him.”
“Then let him go.”
“I am getting him away from this.”
“From his father?”
“From the ruins you are creating!”
Matteo began crying.
“Uncle V, stop.”
Vittorio flinched.
That tiny voice reached somewhere bullets could not.
But he did not release him.
Elena stepped forward.
Vittorio swung the gun toward her.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“You love him?”
He glared at her.
“You know I do.”
“Then look at him.”
Vittorio did.
Matteo’s face was wet with tears.
“Do I look safe?” the boy whispered.
For one second, Vittorio’s grip loosened.
Luca moved.
A guard fired into the ceiling.
Chaos erupted.
Bianca shoved Elena down.
Marco tackled one gunman.
Luca lunged for Matteo.
But Vittorio dragged the boy through the side corridor and disappeared.
By the time Luca reached the courtyard, a car was already roaring through the open gate.
“Elena!”
She ran outside.
Something red lay on the wet gravel.
Matteo’s scarf.
Luca picked it up.
His face went white.
Marco stumbled out behind them.
“Boss…”
Luca looked toward the road.
Vittorio’s taillights disappeared into the rain.
Elena saw the terror return to Luca’s eyes.
Not Mafia fury.
A father’s terror.
May you like
Luca closed his fist around his son’s scarf.
“He took Matteo.”
