THE MAFIA'S OBSESSION

THE TRUTH HE BURIED

Marco looked like a ghost.

The confident consigliere who had once commanded respect now lay pale against crisp white sheets, his shoulder heavily bandaged, machines filling the silence with slow, steady beeps.

His eyes found mine first.

"You came."

"I almost didn't."

A weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I wouldn't have blamed you."

Dante remained beside the door, arms folded across his chest.

He hadn't trusted Marco before.

Getting shot hadn't changed that.

"You said you know who killed Elena's mother," Dante said.

Marco's expression darkened.

"I do."

"Then start talking."

Marco ignored him.

Instead, he looked at me.

"I owe you the truth."

I stepped closer to the bed.

"My mother died in a car accident."

"That's what your father wanted you to believe."

My heart tightened.

"What are you saying?"

"It wasn't an accident."

The room fell silent.

Every sound seemed to disappear except the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.

"My mother was murdered?"

Marco slowly nodded.

"She found something she was never supposed to see."

"What?"

"A ledger."

I frowned.

"A ledger?"

"It contained payments."

"Payments from Vitale to men inside both the Russo and Marchetti families."

Dante's eyes narrowed.

"So Vitale has been buying loyalty for years."

"For decades," Marco corrected.

"They paid people to betray their own blood."

I felt sick.

"My mother found it?"

"Yes."

"And she wanted to expose them."

Marco closed his eyes briefly.

"She trusted the wrong person."

My throat tightened.

"Who?"

He hesitated.

"I can't prove it."

"I don't care."

"I do."

His voice sharpened.

"If I give you the wrong name, you'll spend your life hunting an innocent man while the real monster walks free."

Dante stepped forward.

"Then give us what you know."

Marco took a slow breath.

"The night your mother died..."

"...she met someone at the old cathedral."

"She never came home."

I stared at him.

"Who was she meeting?"

"I don't know."

"But someone else was there."

"Who?"

Marco's gaze shifted to Dante.

"Your father."

The words hit us both like a gunshot.

Dante didn't move.

He didn't blink.

"That's impossible."

"I wish it were."

"My father barely spoke to the Russos."

"In public."

Marco's voice was barely above a whisper.

"But there were things your father kept hidden."

Dante's jaw tightened.

"Be careful."

"I'm done protecting dead men."

The room grew unbearably quiet.

"If you're lying..."

"I'm not."

I looked between them.

Everything I'd believed about the war between our families suddenly felt fragile.

If Dante's father had met my mother the night she died...

Then what else had been hidden?

Before anyone could speak again, the hospital room door burst open.

Lorenzo hurried inside, breathing hard.

"Boss."

Dante turned immediately.

"What happened?"

"We found the ledger."

Marco's eyes widened.

"You what?"

Lorenzo held up a worn black notebook sealed inside an evidence bag.

"It was hidden inside one of Bellini's warehouses."

Marco stared at it in disbelief.

"I burned it."

"You burned a copy."

Lorenzo placed the ledger into Dante's hands.

"This is the original."

My pulse quickened.

"The proof..."

"It's all here," Lorenzo said quietly.

"Every payment."

"Every betrayal."

"Every name."

Dante slowly opened the first page.

His expression changed instantly.

"What is it?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

He simply turned the book toward me.

The first name written at the top of the page wasn't Marco.

It wasn't Bellini.

It wasn't even Vitale.

It was Russo.

My father's signature covered the bottom of the page.

I felt the room spin.

"No..."

The word escaped in a whisper.

"There has to be another explanation."

Marco looked at me with heartbreaking sympathy.

"There isn't."

I couldn't breathe.

Everything inside me wanted to believe my father was innocent.

Everything in front of me said otherwise.

Dante reached for my hand.

I pulled away.

Not because I didn't want his comfort...

But because, for the first time since meeting him, I didn't know whose world was falling apart more.

Mine...

Or his.

To Be Continued...