A scream shattered the silence.
It ripped through the mansion, sharp and piercing, sending a chill down Marco’s spine.
Carmen.
Marco didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and bolted down the hall, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Luca was already ahead of him, moving fast.
They reached Carmen’s room at the same time, and Marco kicked the door open.
And then—
His blood ran cold. Matteo stood at the foot of Carmen’s bed. A knife clutched in his tiny hand. His face was blank.
Emotionless.
His dark curls were slightly messy from sleep, but his grip on the knife was steady. For a second, no one moved.
Then—
Carmen shot out of bed, pressing herself against the headboard, her breathing ragged. “He—he was standing over me!” she choked out. “I—I woke up and he was just there—with the knife!”
Marco’s chest tightened painfully.
He took a slow, careful step forward. “Matteo,” he said, his voice firm but calm.
Matteo didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Marco moved closer. And then, in one swift motion, he snatched the knife from Matteo’s grip.
Matteo let go without resistance. Like he didn’t even care. Marco crouched in front of him, his hands gripping the knife tightly.
“What the hell are you doing, my boy?” he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable.
Matteo’s tiny hands trembled.
His lower lip quivered.
And then—
He started to cry. “I don’t know,” he sobbed, his small voice breaking.
Marco exhaled sharply, gripping the back of his neck, trying to process what the hell just happened.
Carmen’s hands were shaking violently. Luca, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke.
“I told you,” he muttered, his voice dark. “I told you this kid was dangerous.”
Marco shot him a glare.
“Shut the hell up, Luca,” he snapped.
But Luca just folded his arms, eyes locked on Matteo. “He was standing over her with a knife, Marco,” he said, his tone hard. “You can’t tell me that’s normal.”
Marco’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have a damn response to that.
Because Luca was right. Nothing about this was normal.
Marco turned back to Matteo, watching as his son wiped at his tears. Or at least—the boy who was supposed to be his son.
“Come on, bud,” Marco murmured, forcing his voice to stay calm. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
Matteo sniffled, rubbing at his nose.
“Okay, Papa.”
Marco swallowed hard. Something felt off. Matteo let Marco tuck him back into bed too easily.
He curled under the blankets, clutching his stuffed bear, and within minutes, he was asleep.
As if nothing had happened. Marco stood over him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.
His fingers curled into fists.
And then he turned on his heel and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.
The three of them sat in the kitchen.
The only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator and Carmen’s uneven breathing.
Her fingers were curled around a mug of tea, but her hands were still shaking too hard to drink it.
Luca was the first to break the silence.
“You need to do something about this,” he said, his voice low.
Marco leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face.
“What the hell do you want me to do, Luca?” he muttered.
Luca scoffed.
“I don’t know, Marco. Maybe start with the fact that your son just stood over Carmen with a f**king knife?”
Marco’s temples throbbed. He was exhausted. Mentally. Physically. He knew Luca was right. He knew Carmen was terrified. But this was Matteo.
His son.
Wasn’t it?
Marco stared at the knife sitting on the table, the one Matteo had been holding.
The one that could have—
He cut off the thought before it could take root. Carmen took a deep breath, finally speaking.
“Marco,” she said softly. Marco met her gaze. Her eyes were tired. Broken. But there was something else there too. Determination. She held his stare, and then she said—
“Maybe it’s not Matteo.”
Marco’s entire body went still. He felt Luca’s eyes snap to him. Silence swallowed the room. Carmen licked her lips, swallowing hard.
“Marco,” she whispered. “What if this isn’t our son?”
Marco’s hands clenched into fists. His heart pounded against his ribs. The idea—the sheer thought of it—made his stomach turn.
But the doubt had already been there. Lurking. Waiting. Now? It was out in the open. Marco inhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against the table.
His voice came out low, firm, and final.
“We do a DNA test.”