Luca came out of the study and found his son seated on the floor opposite the door, the paperweight discarded on the floor beside him. He had a sombre expression on his face that pulled at his heartstrings. He sat down beside him and faced the door.
“What’s wrong, piccolo?”
“Nothing,” mumbled Alessandro.
“It can’t be nothing, you look like a sad little bambino.”
Alessandro frowned. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“That word, what does it mean?”
“Oh, you mean bambino,” he nodded, “It means baby. You look like a sad little baby.” He ruffled his hair eliciting a smile from the boy. The smile turned upside down just as soon as it appeared.
“Is it true what he said, that I’m a bastard?” Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, making his stomach plummet.
“No, that’s not true. Where
