Chapter 4 - The Whispers of St. Jude's|
Luca rested his forehead against the envelope for five seconds, drawing in a ragged, steadying breath.
The kitchen was completely still except for the low hum of the refrigerator and Samuel’s quiet, rhythmic breathing.
“Hannah, stay here with him,” Luca said softly, his voice strained with fierce protective instinct.
“I am right here, Mr. Moretti,” I answered, placing a warm hand gently on Samuel’s shoulder.
Samuel didn’t pull away; instead, he leaned his head against my arm, completely worn out from the emotional storm.
Luca walked over to the vintage stereo unit mounted near the kitchen desk, inserted the tape, and pressed play.
A hiss of static filled the room, followed by the agonizing, rhythmic beep of a hospital heart monitor.
Then, a raspy, familiar voice echoed from the speakers, raw with pain yet burning with fierce lucidity.
“Luca… if you’re listening to this, I’m already gone, and Vanessa managed to keep you away from my bed.”
Luca’s hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles cracked like dry branches.
“She brought her father’s attorney into St. Jude’s Hospital three hours ago while you were handling the shipment in Detroit,” Frank’s recorded voice rasped.
“They tried to force my hand onto a conservatorship document to strip Samuel of his legal guardianship and take his trust fund.”
“They told me if I didn’t sign, they would ensure Sammy was placed in a state facility where you’d never find him.”
Samuel let out a small, terrified gasp, covering his mouth with both hands.
The tape hissed as Frank coughed violently, struggling for every breath in that lonely hospital room.
“I played along, son,” Frank continued, his voice gaining a sudden, terrifying strength.
“I signed their fake paper with my left hand, knowing the signature wouldn’t hold up in probate court.”
“Then I hid the real title to the family estate and the guardianship papers inside the lining of my old coat.”
“Vanessa thinks she won, Luca.”
“She thinks she can isolate Sammy, break his spirit, and turn you into an empty weapon for the Bellini family.”
“Don’t let them break my boy, Luca.”
“He is the gentlest part of our bloodline.”
“He has your mother’s heart and none of our sins.”
“Protect him, son.”
“Be the father I ran out of time to be.”
The recording ended with the steady, piercing drone of an alarm and the distant sound of nurses rushing into the room.
Luca stood motionless before the stereo, his head bowed, tears falling silently onto his chest.
He turned around slowly, and the look on his face was terrifying in its absolute clarity.
The sorrow was still there, but beneath it lay an immovable mountain of absolute resolve.
He walked over to Samuel, pulled the boy into his arms, and lifted him off the barstool into a fierce embrace.
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“Nobody is ever sending you away again,” Luca whispered against Samuel’s wet hair.
“Nobody touches you while I have breath in my lungs.”
