For several seconds, nobody moved.
The lights came back on, but Richard was gone.
I stared at the empty space where he had been standing.
“How?”
Damiano was already moving.
He checked the doorway, then the small windows along the wall.
“There’s another exit.”
“Then find it.”
He looked at me.
“I will.”
I was still holding the photograph.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Your real father is alive.
Those words had changed everything.
Again.
I looked at the photograph.
My mother was pregnant.
Vittorio stood beside her.
Richard stood behind them.
And the fourth man had been deliberately erased.
“Damiano.”
He turned.
“Look.”
I showed him the photograph.
He studied it carefully.
“That’s not Vittorio.”
“I know.”
“Then who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned the photograph
