Chapter 22 - LUCA
Luca survived.
Two broken ribs.
Concussion.
Knife wound through his shoulder.
Whoever attacked him could have killed him.
They deliberately did not.
Message.
Roman wanted to fly to Nevada.
He asked me first.
Not permission.
Perspective.
“What do you think?”
I looked at him.
“Why do you want to go?”
“To hear what Luca knows.”
“Only that?”
Roman hesitated.
“No.”
Good.
“I want to see him suffer.”
There was my husband.
Still there.
Always would be.
“What will seeing him give you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then go when you know.”
He stayed.
Two days later, Luca requested a secure video call.
Leah attended.
So did Roman.
The first time the brothers saw each other, neither spoke.
Luca looked older.
Leah looked furious.
“You idiot.”
“Hello to you too.”
She started crying.
Luca did not.
Then he looked at Roman.
“I’m sorry.”
Roman’s face remained unreadable.
“For which part?”
“Pick one.”
“Help me.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“The codes. Savannah. Celeste. Carlo.”
“Our daughter?”
“I never knew they intended to take the baby.”
Roman stood.
I touched his wrist.
He looked at me.
Then sat back down.
Luca continued.
“Carlo told me Salvatore killed our father.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“Yes.”
Roman’s voice lowered.
“You were my friend.”
Luca looked straight at him.
“That’s why I hated you so much.”
That was the most honest thing anyone said.
Luca admitted Carlo had cultivated his anger for years.
Small comments.
Documents.
Photographs.
Stories.
Every time Luca questioned something, Carlo supplied another piece.
Then came the debt.
Not Luca’s brother’s gambling debt.
That was another lie.
The four hundred thousand dollars had been borrowed to pay for their mother’s cancer treatment and mortgage.
Carlo purchased the debt.
Then used it.
Leah closed her eyes.
“Our mother died anyway.”
Luca nodded.
“I needed somebody to blame.”
Roman understood that better than anyone.
“What does Devereux want?”
Luca looked toward the camera.
“To finish what he started.”
“What?”
“Separating your family from its money.”
Roman frowned.
“I already sold most of it.”
“Not your money.”
Luca shook his head.
“Your children’s.”
The trust had another provision.
If Isabella’s line produced grandchildren, ownership of several dormant Vascari land holdings transferred into a protected generation-skipping trust.
Clara and Nicholas were beneficiaries.
Value:
Almost one hundred eighty million dollars.
I felt cold.
May you like
Roman looked sick.
Our children had just become targets of an inheritance neither of us knew existed.
