Chapter 7 - The Father's Dying Confession
Two days of pure, intoxicating paradise followed.
Within the private sanctuary of Richi’s suite, they existed in a world untouched by violence. When Richi touched her, he was fierce yet reverent, treating every curve of her body as sacred ground. Downstairs, Matteo beamed with unhidden joy every time he caught his son stealing a kiss from Isa by the pantry or holding her hand under the breakfast table.
""I told you,"" Matteo whispered to Isa over the kitchen counter on Friday morning. ""A good ragù can tame any wolf.""
Isa laughed, blushing deeply as she chopped fresh basil. ""He's not a wolf, Matteo. He's just stubborn.""
""A stubborn wolf,"" the old man chuckled.
Then, his smile faded.
Matteo gripped the edge of the wooden counter, his face turning an alarming shade of gray. A faint, wheezing gasp escaped his chest as his knees buckled beneath him.
""Matteo!"" Isa screamed, dropping her knife and lunging forward, catching the heavy frame of the patriarch before his head struck the tiles.
""Marco! Richi! Help!"" she shrieked, lowering Matteo onto the rug as his breath rattled violently in his throat.
Within seconds, the room flooded with footsteps. Richi burst through the door, his face pale with horror. ""Father!""
""His heart,"" Isa wept, pressing her fingers against Matteo's fluttering pulse. ""He collapsed—he can barely breathe!""
The estate’s private physician, Dr. Rossi, arrived within minutes, wheeling a crash cart directly into the ground-floor study. Richi stood against the wall, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles split, watching his father fight for air beneath an oxygen mask.
After twenty agonizing minutes of medication and stabilization, Dr. Rossi stepped out into the hallway, pulling down his surgical mask.
""He's stable for now, Don Richi,"" the doctor sighed heavily. ""The attack was not caused by poison. His heart muscles are simply exhausted. The damage from his stroke two months ago was severe. He has days left. Perhaps a week. You must prepare.""
Richi felt the ground drop out from beneath his feet. The world around him spun in silent, agonizing slow motion.
A frail hand tapped against the glass door of the study. Matteo was signaling them to enter.
Richi and Isa stepped into the dim room together. Matteo had removed the oxygen mask, his breathing shallow, his ancient eyes shining with unshed tears.
""Richi... come here,"" Matteo rasped, reaching out trembling fingers.
Richi knelt beside the bed, grasping his father’s hand with both of his own. ""Save your strength, Dad. Rossi is bringing specialists from Boston—""
""No specialists,"" Matteo whispered with a weak smile. ""My Sophia is waiting for me. I’ve made her wait long enough.""
Matteo turned his eyes toward Isa, who was standing beside Richi, silently weeping.
""Isa... forgive me,"" Matteo choked out.
Isa stepped closer, gently touching the old man’s arm. ""Forgive you for what, Matteo? You gave me a home when I had nothing.""
""No,"" Matteo whispered, a single tear slipping into his gray beard. ""I didn't hire you through a random agency, Isa. I tracked you down. And your father... Julian... never stole that twenty million dollars.""
Richi went completely rigid, his hand tightening around his father's wrist. ""What did you say?""
""Thirty years ago... before you were born, Richi,"" Matteo confessed, coughing weakly. ""Julian Hayes discovered that my brother—your uncle Carlo—was funneling syndicate funds into human trafficking rings across the border. Julian tried to expose him to the authorities. To protect our family's name, Carlo framed Julian for embezzlement, burned down his accounting firm, and forced him into hiding. I knew Julian was innocent. But I remained silent to protect the Valente empire.""
Richi stared at his father in absolute horror.
""Julian took his own life because of our silence,"" Matteo wept softly, his chest straining. ""Isa grew up in poverty because of our lies. When I saw her in that café two months ago... I knew God had given me one final chance to right our family's greatest sin. I brought her here so you would see her. So you would protect her. Richi... you must swear to me... clear Julian’s name before the commission.""
Richi turned slowly to look at Isa.
Her face was frozen in pure, devastating shock. The foundation of her entire life—the shame, the debt, the guilt that had driven her father to suicide—had all been a manufactured lie orchestrated by the very family whose roof she lived under.
""You knew?"" Isa whispered, her voice trembling with shattered agony.
""I didn't,"" Richi said, rising slowly, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. ""Isa, I swear to you on my mother's soul, I thought Julian was a thief. I didn't know—""
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""Don't touch me,"" she sobbed, stepping back toward the open doorway, clutching her chest as if her heart had been ripped out. ""My father died thinking he was a monster. And I gave myself to the son of the men who destroyed him.""
Before Richi could stop her, she turned and fled down the long marble corridor into the blinding rain outside.
