THE WEIGHT OF TRUTH

The silence in the room was deafening.

Aria sat on the velvet couch, her knees drawn to her chest, the oversized robe Luciano had given her wrapped tight around her frame. Her hair was still damp from the cold shower she’d taken, as if she could wash away what she’d heard—what she’d seen. But nothing could rinse it off.

Luciano’s father—Don Emilio Moretti—was alive.

Luciano stood by the bar, his back to her. One hand clutched a crystal tumbler filled with dark scotch. He hadn’t taken a sip. Not since Isadora had left hours ago, her heels clicking against marble like war drums.

“Say something,” Aria whispered, her voice hoarse.

He didn’t turn. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re not going to spiral again. That this time, you’ll let me in.”

He exhaled—sharp, jagged. “My father was supposed to be dead. I buried what was left of him in a sealed casket. For years, I’ve lived like he was a ghost that haunted me.”

“Luciano…”

“Do you understand what this means?” He finally turned, eyes burning. “If he’s alive, then everything—everything—has been a lie. The title I carry, the legacy, the enemies I’ve made under his name. I became Don because there was no one left to rule. But now—”

He couldn’t finish.

Aria stood slowly, walked toward him, and took the glass from his hand, setting it aside. “You’re not just a title, Luciano. You didn’t become who you are because of a seat at a table. You became who you are because you survived. You led. You protected.”

His jaw clenched, but his eyes flickered—wounded.

“What did Isadora say exactly?” Aria asked gently.

Luciano’s voice dropped to a near growl. “That our father had been held in a private compound in the Alps… kept alive by a faction loyal to him. They staged his death because he no longer trusted the rest of the Family. He’s been watching us. Watching me. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

Luciano looked at her, and for the first time in weeks, he looked truly… shaken. “To decide if I’m worthy of his legacy… or if I need to be erased.”

Aria’s blood went cold.

He reached up, brushing her cheek. “You were right. It’s never been about power. Not really. It’s about survival. And the man who taught me that is alive—and judging my every move.”

She leaned into his hand. “Then you show him who you are.”

He kissed her—slow, unlike the desperate need from before. This one was grounding, like she was his last tether to sanity.

But before she could deepen it, a loud knock shattered the moment.

Luciano froze.

No one knocked on his door.

Ever.

He grabbed his gun from the hidden drawer under the bar and motioned for her to stay back. She nodded silently, heart pounding.

Another knock.

Then, a voice.

“Luciano Moretti. I come with a message from Don Emilio.”

Luciano opened the door slowly, gun raised.

A tall man in a black suit stood on the threshold, flanked by two guards Aria didn’t recognize. He had a scar running down his cheek, and a metal pin on his lapel that gleamed gold.

Without waiting for permission, the man handed over a sealed black envelope.

“It’s time,” the man said. “Don Emilio wants to meet his son. Alone.”

Luciano’s face was stone. “Where?”

“Zurich. The compound.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Luciano lowered the gun slowly. “Tell him I’ll come. But if this is a trap—”

The man gave a small smile. “It’s not a trap, Don Moretti. It’s a test.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his guards falling in step behind him.

Luciano closed the door and turned to Aria.

“You’re not going without me,” she said before he could speak.

“I have to go alone.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m staying behind like a helpless ornament.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I’m coming to Zurich. Whether I’m in the room or not, I’ll be there.”

Luciano sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then die knowing I’m not letting you walk into that fire without someone ready to drag you out.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. He kissed her again, harder this time. Fierce.

Then he whispered, “Pack light. We leave in an hour.”

But just as Aria turned to go, Luciano caught her wrist.

His eyes were darker now. Something else haunted them.

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

He hesitated.

“When my father disappeared… he wasn’t alone.”

Aria’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

Luciano released her wrist, voice low. “He had a daughter with him. A girl no one knew existed.”

“A daughter?”

Luciano nodded.

Aria stared at him.

“Who is she?”

He swallowed.

“I don’t know her name. But Isadora said she might be my half-sister… and she’s the one who’s been watching you.”