“Your son,” Santino murmured.
“Our brother,” I corrected him.
Santino chuckled softly. “Oh, my sweet, naive little brother.”
I watched as he pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to me.
I took it, frowning, and opened it.
I stared at the contents, my guts twisted painfully as I read the words on the medical report.
Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father, Matteo De Santis, is confirmed as the biological father of Domenico De Santis.
Combine Paternity Index (CPI): 2,450,000
Probability of Paternity: 99.999%
My hands shook as I stared down in horror at the words in front of me.
“It’s amazing what a little bit of pressure can do to people when you want something,” Santino murmured, twirling his hammer in his hand. “You kill their scheming husband, and suddenly, the world they protected for a mere fifty thousand dollars can be yours. Money talks, but violence screams.”
The paper fluttered to the floor as I looked at the hammer he held.
Blood. So much old blood on it.
They didn’t call him The Carpenter for nothing.
“I-I…” I couldn’t even form words.
“He lied to you, Matteo. He has been lying to you. You blindly accepted it because he broke you. He’s a fucking monster, but inthe end, it was she who did it all. Francesca. It was all her idea. She thought it would make you both stronger. They knew you. They knew every-fucking-thing that made you tick. You always wore your emotions on your sleeve. A dangerous thing in this world. Did I teach you nothing before I left?”
I said nothing, the nausea burning my throat.
“They wanted Domenico angry. They wanted him to hate you because if he did, he would step up and run things the way they wanted. You grew stronger than they thought you would. You brought them fear. They knew you were a hydra they wouldn’t be able to contain, so they used Anna and Domenico against you. They killed Delilah and Gianna to tilt your world sideways. It spiraled you right into their plans. You would blame Domenico. You would hurt him. And look? You did exactly as they planned.”
I got up and rushed to my bathroom before I fell to my knees, vomiting into the toilet.
They’d tricked me. I prided myself on knowing things. On reading people. But they’d tricked me. I’d let my anger and pain blind me.
My son…
Domenico was my boy.
I-I’d hurt my boy.
I vomited again, clutching at the toilet, my stomach so sick I thought I’d die.
Or perhaps it was my heart that was sick.
It took me a few minutes to gather myself, but I did. I washed out my mouth and returned to find Santino right where I’d left him.
I didn’t hate him.
I should, but I could never.
I went to him and fell to my knees. He shifted as I lay my head in his lap.
“Please,” I rasped. “Brother.”
