"Met?" Rafaella laughs, the sound like breaking glass. "Is that what we're calling it? I'm his sister."
The silence that follows could shatter concrete.
"Half-sister," I correct, though the damage is done.
Pietro rises from his chair, movements deliberate and dangerous. "Explain."
Rafaella tilts her head, studying the room with calculating eyes. "You didn't tell them? All these years, and you kept our father's secret?"
"What secret?" Vittoria's voice cracks. "What is she talking about?"
My jaw works, searching for words that won't come. Rafaella fills the silence.
"Giuseppe Sartori had another family. In Naperville. A wife, three children." She gestures to herself. "I'm the oldest."
"You're lying." Giulia's hands shake as she grips her rosary. "Giuseppe would never?—"
"Every Thursday for twenty-three years." Rafaella's smile is poison. "Family dinners, birthdays, graduations. He was there for all of it."
Pietro's fist slams the desk. Papers scatter. "Lorenzo. Did you know?"
The truth sits like acid on my tongue. "Yes."
"How long?" His voice drops to deadly quiet.
"Since I was twenty-two. Dad took me to meet them."
"You knew." Vittoria's accusation cuts deeper than any blade. "You knew our father had another family and you said nothing?"
"He made me promise?—"
"Fuck his promises!" Pietro roars. "You kept this from us. From me."
Bruno laughs from his wheelchair, the sound hollow and bitter. "Of course he did. Lorenzo, keeper of secrets. Tell me, brother, what else are you hiding?"
"This was the only?—"
"The only what?" Pietro circles the desk, predator stalking prey. "The only betrayal? The only lie?"
"What do you want, Rafaella?" My voice cuts through the chaos.
She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see the kid I met years ago. Scared, angry, betrayed by a father who lived two lives.
"You think I wanted this?" Her composure cracks. "I spent my entire adult life pretending the Sartori name didn't exist. Pretending my father wasn't—" She stops, swallows hard. "I never wanted anything to do with this family. With any of you."
"Then why?—"
"Because I had no choice!" The words explode from her. "My brother Alberto is dying. Leukemia. He needs a bone marrow transplant, and neither I nor our sister are matches."
The room shifts. Vittoria's breathing becomes shallow, rapid.
"So you come here." Pietro's voice drips venom. "Looking for what? Money?"
"Not money." Rafaella's hands clench in her lap. "Family members. Blood relatives. The doctors say siblings have the best chance of being compatible donors."
"You want us to save the son of our father's whore?" Bruno's cruel laugh fills the room.
"My mother wasn't a whore." Rafaella stands, fury replacing desperation. "She loved him. She thought they were really married. He had documents, a whole life with us. She didn't know about you until after he died."
