The Truth He Buried
1048 Words
“Don't.”
Damien's voice cracked through the room like a gunshot.
The single word stopped everyone.
Ethan Romano didn't even look at him.
His eyes remained fixed on me.
Steady.
Unwavering.
As if nothing else in the world mattered.
"You deserve to know," Ethan said.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
The atmosphere inside the hospital room felt suffocating.
One man was hiding something.
The other was desperate to reveal it.
And somehow, I was standing in the middle of a battlefield I didn't understand.
"What truth?" I asked.
Neither of them answered immediately.
The silence stretched.
Dangerous.
Heavy.
Damien stood from his chair.
His entire body was tense.
"You need to leave."
Ethan finally looked at him.
"I've spent years staying quiet."
Years.
The word hit me like a slap.
Years?
My gaze snapped between them.
"What are you talking about?"
Damien's expression darkened.
"Not here."
"Then where?" I demanded.
No one answered.
The frustration building inside me finally exploded.
"My father was almost murdered tonight!"
Both men went silent.
Good.
Because I was done being treated like a child.
"Someone tell me what's going on."
For several long seconds, Ethan simply watched me.
Then he sighed.
"Your father lied to you."
The room seemed to freeze.
I laughed bitterly.
"That's hardly shocking."
"No."
His eyes hardened.
"You don't understand."
A chill slid down my spine.
Something in his voice felt different.
Personal.
Almost angry.
As though he wasn't speaking about a business secret.
He was speaking about something far worse.
Then the hospital room door opened.
A doctor entered.
"Miss DeLuca."
Everyone turned.
The doctor smiled politely.
"Your father is awake."
My heart nearly stopped.
Without another word, I rushed from the room.
I didn't look back.
Didn't look at Ethan.
Didn't look at Damien.
All I could think about was my father.
---
Vincent DeLuca looked exactly the way powerful men should never look.
Weak.
The sight shocked me more than I wanted to admit.
He sat upright in his hospital bed.
A bandage wrapped around his shoulder.
Machines beeped steadily beside him.
Yet somehow he still managed to look intimidating.
The moment I entered, his eyes found mine.
"Close the door."
Not hello.
Not how are you.
Typical.
I closed it anyway.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then something inside me snapped.
"Someone tried to kill you."
His expression remained calm.
Too calm.
As if this happened every day.
"It wasn't the first attempt."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
He looked away.
A mistake.
My father never looked away.
"How many times?" I whispered.
His silence answered the question.
Too many.
Fear mixed with anger.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it wasn't necessary."
I laughed in disbelief.
"It wasn't necessary?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Watch your tone."
There he was.
The father I knew.
Control first.
Everything else second.
I stepped closer.
"No."
The word surprised both of us.
For once, I refused to back down.
"Someone almost killed you, and now Ethan Romano is standing outside talking about secrets you've kept from me my entire life."
The moment Ethan's name left my mouth, my father's expression changed.
The room grew colder.
"Stay away from him."
The order came instantly.
I crossed my arms.
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
I nearly screamed.
That answer again.
The answer he'd given me for twenty-two years.
Because I said so.
Because I know best.
Because you're my daughter.
Enough.
"Tell me the truth."
His jaw tightened.
"No."
The word landed between us.
Final.
Absolute.
The old Isabella would have accepted it.
The obedient daughter.
The perfect heiress.
The girl who never questioned her father.
But that girl was gone.
Tonight changed everything.
I looked directly into his eyes.
And for the first time in my life, I saw something unexpected.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
My heart skipped.
Why would Vincent DeLuca be afraid?
And why did it have anything to do with Ethan Romano?
A knock interrupted us.
The door opened.
One of my father's security chiefs entered.
His face was pale.
Very pale.
Something was wrong.
"What is it?" my father demanded.
The man swallowed.
"We have a problem."
The room immediately tensed.
My father's voice became ice.
"Explain."
The security chief hesitated.
Then he said the last thing I expected.
"We reviewed the security footage."
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
"And?"
The man looked directly at me.
Then back at my father.
His face drained of color.
"There was someone near the attack site moments before it happened."
My pulse quickened.
"Who?"
The security chief hesitated.
For the first time since entering the room, he looked genuinely frightened.
When he finally spoke, the words shattered the silence.
"It was Damien Blackwood."
The world stopped.
"No."
The denial escaped before I could think.
Impossible.
Damien?
My Damien?
The boy who taught me how to ride a bike.
The friend who stayed with me after my mother died.
The person I trusted most.
No.
There had to be a mistake.
My father didn't look surprised.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Because it meant he already suspected.
"What exactly did the footage show?" my father asked.
The security chief shifted uncomfortably.
"It shows Mr. Blackwood entering a restricted area fifteen minutes before the attack."
My stomach twisted.
"No."
But this time, my voice sounded weak.
Uncertain.
The guard continued.
"He left moments before the shooter struck."
The room spun.
I couldn't process it.
Couldn't accept it.
Damien would never
A sudden memory surfaced.
The look on Damien's face earlier.
The fear.
The guilt.
The way he'd tried to stop Ethan from talking.
My chest tightened painfully.
No.
No.
No.
The door behind me suddenly opened.
Everyone turned.
My heart dropped.
Damien stood there.
Frozen.
Silent.
And judging by the expression on his face...
He had heard every word.
The security chief slowly reached for his radio.
The guards outside shifted.
Ready.
Waiting.
One wrong move.
One wrong word.
And everything would explode.
Damien's blue eyes found mine.
Pain flashed across his face.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Isabella."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I can explain."
And for the first time in my life...
I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear it.
- Writer
