Chapter 9 - THE FATHER
Vittorio Pascale smiled.
“I allowed people to believe I died.”
Massimo stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because power is easier to observe from the grave.”
My mother shook beside one of the armed men.
I wanted to run to her.
Massimo saw me move.
“Don’t.”
Vittorio’s eyes landed on me.
“So this is the therapist.”
“You don’t speak to her,” Massimo said.
Vittorio laughed.
“You sound emotional.”
“I’m warning you.”
“No. You’re begging.”
Massimo’s hands tightened around his chair.
I suddenly understood everything.
The way he hated weakness.
The way he hated needing anyone.
The fear beneath his anger.
This man had built it.
Vittorio stepped closer.
“I gave you an empire.”
“You gave me scars.”
“I gave you discipline.”
“You beat children.”
“I made men.”
Luca raised his gun.
“No. You made monsters.”
Vittorio looked almost disappointed.
“And yet here you both are.”
He glanced at Massimo’s chair.
“Well. Almost.”
Massimo’s expression didn’t move.
I watched his right foot.
It shifted.
Barely.
He was positioning himself.
Vittorio continued.
“The crash was supposed to kill you.”
Massimo nodded.
“So it was you.”
“You became soft.”
“By whose standards?”
“Mine.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Vittorio’s smile vanished.
Then everything happened at once.
Massimo pushed himself out of the chair.
He stood.
Vittorio’s eyes widened.
Massimo took one unstable step.
Then another.
The gunmen hesitated.
That was enough.
Luca fired.
Massimo tackled Vittorio.
I ran toward my mother.
Gunfire exploded across the pier.
“Mom!”
“Tessa!”
I reached her.
A man grabbed my hair.
I slammed my elbow backward.
He cursed.
I turned and drove my knee into his stomach.
He fell.
My mother stared at me.
“What kind of clinic do you work at?”
“Long story.”
We ran.
Behind us, Luca went down.
“LUCA!” Massimo screamed.
Massimo tried to move toward him.
His leg collapsed.
Vittorio grabbed Massimo by the collar and put a gun under his chin.
Everybody froze.
Vittorio smiled.
“Still weak.”
Massimo looked at me.
Something passed between us.
Trust.
I saw the wheelchair behind Vittorio.
I kicked it.
Hard.
The chair rolled into Vittorio’s knees.
He stumbled.
Massimo drove his head backward into his father’s face.
The gun fired.
I screamed.
Massimo fell.
Vittorio fell with him.
May you like
For one second, nobody moved.
Then I saw blood spreading across Massimo’s shirt.
