Chapter 73 The Blood in the Wine

Chapter 73 The Blood in the Wine
The silver cutlery clattered against the fine china in the dining room of Damaino's residence. Luca sat across from his father, observing his every move. Salvatore looked pale, but he held his fork with a steady hand.
"Father," Luca started, his voice tight. "I called the hospital, and the doctor said he wouldn’t speak to me. He said you wanted to tell us the results yourself. What did they find?"
Salvatore didn’t look up from his steak. He chewed slowly, then took a sip of red wine. He set the glass down and wiped his mouth with a white napkin.
"It’s nothing to lose sleep over, Luca," he said, his voice sounding calm. "The doctor said it’s a respiratory infection. Bronchitis. My lungs are just tired from all those cigars I used to smoke."
Luca let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt his shoulders drop an inch. "Bronchitis? Are you sure? You were coughing up blood, Papa."
"The doctor gave me everything I need," Salvatore insisted, gesturing to the side table where a small brown bag sat. "I’ll be back on my feet in a week. Don’t make it a tragedy."
Bianca leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. She didn't look as relieved as Luca. "Then why the secrecy, Father? Why couldn't the doctor just tell Luca over the phone? We’ve been worried sick all afternoon."
Salvatore threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. "Because I'm the head of this house, Bianca! I don't need a doctor reporting to my children like I’m a child. You and Luca worry far too much. You should trust me when I say I’ll be fine."
Luca reached across the table, squeezing his father’s hand, feeling the rough, weathered skin. "I do trust you. I just... I can't lose you yet. Everything is working out. By the time you finish those meds, you’ll be stronger than ever."
Salvatore laughed again, but the sound didn't last. It turned into a wet, loud cough that shook his entire frame. He grabbed the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. Bianca jumped up, grabbed a glass of water, and held it to his lips until the fit passed.
"See?" Salvatore wheezed, wiping his eyes. "Just a nasty infection."
After dinner, Luca helped Salvatore up the stairs, his arm around his waist. He felt how thin his father had become. They sat in the two leather armchairs by the bedroom window, the city lights twinkling in the distance.
"Father," Luca said softly. "Can I ask you something, man to man?"
Salvatore nodded, leaning back. "Speak."
"Why Bianca?" Luca asked. The question had been burning in his throat for weeks. "Why did you push so hard for this marriage? You never even thought twice about it."
Salvatore smiled, a look of pure nostalgia crossing his face. "I’ve seen Bianca as my own daughter since the day she walked into this house, Luca. I watched you two grow up side by side. I knew you were a perfect match before you even knew what love was. She’s loyal and understands our world. She strengthens this family in every way that matters."
Luca looked at the floor, feeling a deep, hollow ache in his chest. "And the baby... what if the child she’s carrying isn't mine?"
The air in the room suddenly turned cold. Salvatore’s expression darkened instantly. "What could possibly make you say something so disgusting, Luca?"
"I'm just saying—"
"No," Salvatore snapped. "It is impossible. After everything I have done for that girl, she would never dare lie to me like that. She is a Damiano in spirit, if not in blood. Don’t ever let me hear you insult your wife or your unborn child again."
Luca looked at his father and felt total helplessness. Salvatore placed more trust in Bianca than in his own son’s instincts.
He knew he was trapped. The DNA test said the child was his, and Bianca had already threatened to tell Salvatore about Valeria if he stepped out of line. If he spoke the truth now, he wouldn't just lose his father’s respect—he would put a target on Valeria’s back.
"I’m sorry," He whispered, nodding his head. "You're right. I’m just... I’m stressed."
"Go to bed, Luca," Salvatore replied him, his voice softening but remaining firm. "Focus on the merger."
Downstairs, Bianca slammed her bedroom door shut, trembling with a rage she couldn't contain as she grabbed her phone, ready to call Camille for an update on the task she had given her, but the screen lit up with a different name.
Lorenzo.
She answered it with a snarl. "What do you want?"
"Babe, how are you?" Lorenzo’s voice came through, smooth and annoying. 
"Don’t you ever call me 'babe' again," Bianca hissed, her face contorted with fury. She could still remember hearing the moans from the powder room at the gala. "Don't you ever use that tone with me."
There was a pause on the other end. Lorenzo sounded genuinely confused. "What is going on with you? Why are you acting like this? Is it the money? I told you, your cut is coming."
"The money?" she let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "You think this is about a paycheck? You're a fool, Lorenzo. You think you're playing me? I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to make sure you understand who the real player is in this house."
"Bianca, listen—"
"No, you listen!" she screamed into the phone, her voice dropping to a deadly, jagged whisper. "I am Bianca Damiano. I am the one who holds the strings. I am going to make you pay for every lie you’ve told me. I’m going to take everything you love and burn it to the ground."
"Bianca, wait—"
She ended the call before he could finish, throwing the phone onto the bed with enough force to make it bounce off the pillows.
"Stupid bastard!" she screamed at the empty walls. "You'll regret the day you ever crossed me!"
Across the city, Lorenzo sat in his study, slowly lowering the phone from his ear and staring at the blank screen. 
He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had never heard Bianca like that. She sounded like a woman on the edge of a massacre.
Is it the merger? he wondered. Is she worried I’m taking too much power?
He stood up and paced the length of the room, his eyes flicking to the locked door of his secret chamber. He had the money and his perfect plan in place, but a woman like Bianca was a variable he hadn't accounted for. 
He felt the first threads of his perfect plan beginning to unravel.
"What's going on, Bianca?" he muttered to the shadows. "What did you find?"