Chapter 10 - THE GHOST IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The spring breeze suddenly felt freezing cold.
Luca stared at the back of the photograph, the color draining from his face.
"Arthur," Luca said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.
Arthur looked up from his sandwich, smiling. "Yes, Luca?"
Luca walked slowly toward the older man, holding out the black-and-white photograph.
"Did you know my brother thirty years ago?" Luca asked.
Arthur looked at the picture. His smile vanished instantly. The glass of iced tea slipped from his hand, shattering on the stone patio.
"Grandpa?" Leo asked, scared by the sudden noise.
"Hannah, take Leo inside," Luca commanded, not taking his eyes off Arthur.
I didn't argue. I grabbed Leo’s hand and quickly led him into the kitchen, but I stayed by the glass door, watching with a sickening dread in my stomach.
Arthur’s hands were trembling violently. He couldn't speak.
"Arthur," Luca’s voice was dangerously low. "My brother burned innocent people alive. He tried to kill me. He abandoned his own son. How do you know him?"
"I... I..." Arthur gasped for air, his chest heaving.
"Boss, give him a second, he’s going to have another stroke," Daniel warned, stepping forward.
"I want the truth!" Luca roared, slamming the photograph onto the patio table.
Arthur closed his eyes, tears spilling down his wrinkled cheeks. He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to speak clearly.
"Thirty years ago," Arthur whispered. "I was a bus driver. I hit a man. In the rain. It was an accident. But... he died."
My hand flew to my mouth.
"The police... were going to arrest me," Arthur sobbed. "I would have gone to prison. Vanessa... she was only a baby. She would have gone into foster care."
Luca stared at him, rigid. "Go on."
"A young man... saw it happen," Arthur cried. "Marcus. He was just a teenager. Running numbers for the mob. He... he came to me. He said he would get rid of the body. Hide the evidence."
"In exchange for what?" Luca demanded.
"A favor," Arthur wept. "He said... someday... he would come to me. And I would have to do... exactly what he said."
The pieces fell into place with a horrifying click.
"The engagement," Luca breathed, taking a step back. "Vanessa didn't meet me by accident."
Arthur shook his head. "Marcus... tracked us down. Two years ago. He told Vanessa about the favor. He told her... she had to marry you. To get access to the accounts. Or he would go to the police... and put me in prison for murder."
"You knew?" Luca yelled, his betrayal absolute. "You sat at my table, you let me take you into my home, and you knew your daughter was trying to destroy me?!"
"I didn't know about the fire!" Arthur screamed, falling to his knees on the patio. "I swear! I thought she was just going to divorce you and take a settlement! When I found out she was working with Marcus... when I found out they hurt people... I tried to stop her!"
"You lied to me!" Luca snarled, turning away in disgust.
"I was protecting my grandson!" Arthur sobbed. "If Marcus put me in prison, who was going to protect Leo?!"
Silence fell over the patio, broken only by the old man's weeping.
I opened the glass door and stepped outside, my heart breaking for both of them. Luca had been betrayed by the man he considered family, and Arthur had been trapped by a thirty-year-old mistake.
"Luca," I said softly. "He took a bullet for you in the cabin. He tried to stop Marcus."
"He brought them into my life, Hannah," Luca said, his voice hollow. He looked at Arthur on the ground. "Get off my property. Pack your things. I never want to see you again."
Arthur didn't argue. He slowly stood up, looking older and more broken than I had ever seen him. He nodded once, a gesture of absolute defeat, and walked toward the guest house.
I looked at Luca. "And Leo? Are you taking him away from his grandfather?"
Luca closed his eyes. "Leo is my son. He stays here. Arthur leaves."
The rest of the day was a nightmare. Leo cried hysterically when Arthur packed his battered brown suitcase. Luca locked himself in his study.
As Arthur walked down the long driveway toward the front gates, I ran after him.
"Mr. Bellini, wait," I called out, handing him an envelope with cash. "Please, take this. Until I can figure something out."
Arthur shook his head, pushing the money back. "No, Hannah. Take care of... my boy."
He turned and walked through the heavy iron gates.
I watched him go, feeling a deep, nagging suspicion in my gut.
The photograph. Who sent it?
Marcus was dead. Vanessa was in federal prison without mail privileges. Richard was dead.
Who was left that knew about a thirty-year-old favor?
I ran back into the house and straight into Luca’s study.
"Luca," I said, slamming my hands on his desk. "Who sent the picture?"
Luca looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "It doesn't matter. It was probably one of Marcus's old crew trying to shake us down."
"Marcus was eighteen years old thirty years ago," I argued. "He was a street kid. Who was he running numbers for?"
Luca froze.
"My father," Luca whispered.
"Your father has been dead for twenty years," I said.
May you like
Luca stood up slowly, picking up the envelope the picture came in. He turned it over and looked at the postmark.
"My father is dead," Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "But his consigliere isn't."
