Chapter 14 - The Truth About Cole
Cole’s father was Samuel Marchetti.
Nobody spoke.
Cole stared at Antonio’s letter.
“That’s impossible.”
It wasn’t.
Samuel had fathered Adrian during an affair decades earlier.
Antonio discovered it after Adrian’s mother died.
Samuel wanted the boy brought into his world.
Antonio refused.
He raised Adrian’s career from a distance, eventually placing him near Vincent.
Not as a spy.
As protection.
Cole sat down.
“My whole life…”
Vincent handed him the letter.
“Read it.”
Antonio had written directly to Adrian.
Your father gave you his blood. He does not get to give you his character.
Cole stopped reading.
His eyes filled.
Vincent looked away to give him privacy.
For years, Cole had believed loyalty was repayment.
Now he discovered Antonio had protected him too.
Samuel had known.
That explained why Samuel repeatedly tried manipulating Cole.
Why he planted evidence.
Why he wanted Vincent to distrust him.
Samuel believed blood would eventually win.
It hadn’t.
Cole folded the letter.
“What happens now?”
Vincent shrugged.
“You’re still annoying.”
Cole laughed through tears.
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent extended his hand.
Cole took it.
“You chose your family a long time ago,” Vincent said.
That night, the final secret of the Marchetti family stopped being a weapon.
Samuel was convicted months later on multiple federal and state charges.
Voss received a long sentence.
Daniel testified.
His cooperation reduced his punishment, but did not erase it.
Alina visited him once before sentencing.
He looked healthier.
Sober.
Clear-eyed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know.”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I spent too long letting what you did control what I felt.”
Daniel nodded.
“Is Vincent good to you?”
Alina smiled faintly.
“He knows I don’t need him to be.”
Daniel understood.
“That’s probably why he is.”
Before she left, Daniel said:
“Tell Mia I love her.”
“You can tell her yourself.”
He looked up.
“When?”
“When you’re ready to be consistent.”
“I will be.”
“Then prove it.”
Outside, Vincent waited by the car.
He didn’t ask what Daniel said.
Alina appreciated that.
She got in.
Vincent started the engine.
Then stopped.
Alina looked at him.
“What?”
He glanced beneath the dashboard.
She immediately tensed.
Vincent noticed.
“So did I.”
They both laughed nervously.
Some memories did not disappear just because danger did.
He took her hand.
“I had the car checked three times.”
“Only three?”
“Marco threatened to quit after the fourth.”
They drove home.
Home.
Alina realized she had begun calling the estate that.
Not because of marble floors.
Not because she owned shares.
Because Mia’s drawings were on the refrigerator.
Lucas left sneakers in the hallway.
Sofia visited for Sunday dinner.
Cole complained about Mia putting stickers on security monitors.
Marco secretly gave her more stickers.
And Vincent always came looking for Alina when a room became too crowded.
A year after Mia stopped the sedan, Vincent took Alina to the same driveway.
The black car was parked nearby.
Mia and Lucas watched from the steps.
Alina narrowed her eyes.
“Why is everyone acting strange?”
Vincent reached into his pocket.
“Oh, no.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“If you kneel, I’m walking away.”
Lucas laughed.
Mia shouted, “Kneel!”
Vincent glared at her.
“Traitor.”
Alina covered her mouth, laughing.
Vincent did kneel.
But he didn’t immediately show her a ring.
“I spent most of my life thinking protecting people meant controlling every possible danger.”
Alina’s smile faded into something softer.
“You’re terrible at romantic speeches.”
“I practiced this.”
“That makes it worse.”
Mia giggled.
Vincent continued.
“Then your daughter nearly gave me a heart attack in my driveway.”
“She saved you.”
“She did.”
He looked at Mia.
Then back at Alina.
“And you taught me that keeping someone safe isn’t the same as deciding their life for them.”
He opened the box.
“Alina Ruiz, would you choose a life with me?”
Her eyes filled.
That wording mattered.
Choose.
Not owe.
Not need.
Choose.
“Yes.”
Mia screamed.
Lucas applauded.
Vincent stood and kissed Alina.
Then Mia pushed between them.
“My turn.”
Vincent picked her up.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
“Are you my Vincent now?”
He smiled.
“I think I’ve been your Vincent since you yelled at me.”
Mia nodded.
“That was smart.”
“Extremely.”
Alina laughed.
Then Marco came through the front doors carrying an envelope.
“Sorry.”
Vincent groaned.
“If that contains another family secret, burn it.”
Marco looked confused.
“It’s from the prison.”
Everyone went quiet.
Samuel.
Vincent took the envelope.
No return message.
No threats visible.
He opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Vincent’s smile vanished.
The picture showed the mansion driveway.
Taken that morning.
Alina looked at it.
“Samuel is in prison.”
“Yes.”
“Then who took that?”
Vincent turned the photograph over.
One sentence had been written on the back.
Samuel wasn’t the one who ordered the first bomb.
Vincent stared at the handwriting.
He recognized it.
So did Cole.
May you like
Because the handwriting belonged to a man they had buried twelve years earlier.
Antonio Marchetti.
