Luca smiles gently. “Marco was like that. He was always into the philosophical bullshit.”
That smile—this story—this is what I saw in his private office.
The evidence of Marco’s compassion, his gentle influence on his cousin.
And this is what I’m watching disappear as Luca hardens himself into a monster pursuing revenge against the wrong enemy.
The secret burns in my stomach like acid, demanding to be spoken.
Tell him.
Tell him about the recording.
Tell him who Marco’s real killer is so he’ll stop destroying innocent people.
“That’s why you let me treat the bird,” I say instead, the confession dying unspoken in my throat. “Because Marco taught you that healing matters.”
“Maybe.” He won’t look at me now, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the garden walls as a light breeze plays at his dark hair. “Or maybe I just want to see if you’ll keep choosing mercy even when mercy hasn’t been shown to you.”
I stiffen. I feel like whatever moment we’ve shared is gone. “Is that what this is? Some kind of test?”
“Everything is a test, Giuliana.” His voice goes cold again, the brief glimpse of vulnerability slamming shut behind familiar walls. “Every choice you make, every word you say, every moment you think I’m not watching—it all tells me something about who you really are.”
“And who am I?” I ask, too tired to be afraid of the answer. “According to your careful observations?”
Luca finally looks at me again, and the intensity in his dark eyes makes my breath catch. “I’ve already told you that you’re not your father. You might share his blood, but that’s where the similarity ends. You make choices he never did. You try to heal instead of hurt. You forgive, when others would lash out.” He pauses, and something almost painful crosses his face. “You’re everything I should have been if grief hadn’t turned me into this.”
The world seems to stop at his admission.
For just a moment, I see him clearly—not the monster who destroyed my clinic or the captor who holds me prisoner, but the broken man underneath.
The one who loved his cousin so much that losing him shattered his humanity.
“I—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Your bird will recover.” His tone shifts back to businesslike as he stands. “You’re truly skilled at fixing broken things, Giuliana. I hope you remember that.”
He turns to leave, and panic seizes me at the thought of being alone with my spiraling thoughts, at the secret I’m carrying, and the walls closing in again.
“Why?” The question bursts out of me, desperate and raw. “Why are you letting me do this when you’ve shown me nothing else?”
Luca pauses mid-stride, his back to me.
For several long seconds, I think he’s not going to answer.
Then his shoulders shift, and he glances back with an expression that might be regret.
“Because watching you heal things reminds me of who I used to be,” he says quietly. “Before Marco died. Before revenge consumed everything. You’re…” He trails off, seeming to struggle with the words. I see him flex his hands. “You’re what I lost when I decided destroying you mattered more than being the kind of man Marco would recognize.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the garden with the terrible knowledge that understanding him is so much more dangerous than hating him ever was.
I press my hands to my face and let the tears come again, this time for different reasons.
Because I saw his humanity just now, saw the man hidden beneath the monster.
Because he opened up about Marco in a way that makes my secret feel like a betrayal.
Because some twisted part of me wants to comfort him, to tell him that he’s not too far gone, that healing is still possible if he’d just stop pursuing this twisted revenge.
