Chapter 7
Our father’s letters were not noble.
Good.
He admitted everything.
He feared Grandfather.
Then feared the family after Grandfather died.
He feared bringing Nathan home would create questions about inheritance.
Then feared Nathan would hate me.
Then feared I would hate Nathan.
Every year, fear changed shape but kept producing the same result.
Distance.
He wrote:
I kept waiting until the family was ready.
Then:
Families rarely become ready for truths adults benefit from delaying.
Accurate.
Painfully late.
Nathan read silently.
Then stopped at one page.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
Your brother Matteo does not know you exist. That is my failure, not his theft.
Important.
Duncan had built his entire narrative around stolen inheritance.
My father explicitly rejected it.
Nathan laughed once.
Bitter.
“Duncan left this part out.”
He had opened the box before giving it to Nathan.
Of course.
Not untouched after all.
He had rearranged the bundles and removed one letter.
Nathan found the broken fold.
Manipulation.
Again.
Duncan needed Nathan angry.
A grieving brother was useless.
An aggrieved claimant could destabilize me.
We returned to the main house together.
Duncan saw Nathan beside me and understood.
His face changed.
Nathan spoke before I did.
“You lied.”
Duncan snapped:
“I showed you the truth.”
“No.”
Nathan held up the letter.
“You edited it.”
Silence.
That was the end of Duncan’s influence over him.
Not my threat.
Not Mafia power.
The victim seeing the manipulation clearly.
Then Oscar entered on crutches.
He stopped when he saw Nathan.
I crouched.
“This is your uncle.”
Oscar frowned.
“New uncle?”
Nathan almost smiled.
“Apparently.”
Then Oscar looked at Duncan.
Fear returned.
Nathan noticed.
“Did he hurt you?”
Oscar nodded.
Nathan’s face changed completely.
He looked at Duncan.
Not with ambition.
With disgust.
May you like
That mattered.
Whatever family role Nathan chose later, Duncan had lost him permanently.
