Chapter 10 - The Doctor Who Lied Twice
Dr. Arthur Fausto had lied for two generations of Ramos men.
The first lie saved a boy.
The second lie saved Diego.
Neither had made him sleep better.
He sat in Diego's library the following morning, turning an untouched cup of coffee between his palms.
“You should've told me everything.”
Fausto looked up.
“You were twenty when your father made me promise.”
“I'm thirty-four now.”
“Promises don't expire because children grow older.”
Sofia stood near the shelves organizing copies of the files recovered from Valli's digital accounts.
Diego leaned on his cane.
“What exactly did my father ask you to hide?”
Fausto sighed.
“Matteo.”
“Marco.”
“Both.”
“You knew Marco's identity?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you realize?”
“Seven years ago.”
“And said nothing.”
“Antonio's instructions were explicit.”
“My father was dead.”
“Yes.”
“That usually limits a man's authority.”
Fausto almost smiled.
“Not your father's.”
Diego sat.
“Start at the beginning.”
Fausto told them what happened after seventeen-year-old Matteo tried to kill Antonio Ramos.
Antonio could have handed him over.
Instead he asked why.
The teenager screamed about his father, Salvatore.
He accused Antonio of destroying his family.
Antonio showed him the ledgers.
For the first time, Matteo learned Salvatore had betrayed multiple partners and used his own family as cover.
“He broke down,” Fausto said. “Not dramatically. Quietly. It was worse.”
Antonio arranged a new surname using Matteo's mother's family connections.
Education.
Housing.
A chance.
Valli helped.
“What Antonio didn't realize,” Fausto continued, “was that Lorenzo resented the mercy.”
“Why?”
“Because Lorenzo was Salvatore's brother-in-law, but also his lawyer. When the organization collapsed, Lorenzo lost nearly everything.”
Sofia frowned.
“Antonio employed him afterward?”
“To keep him close.”
Diego understood.
That sounded exactly like his father.
Turn enemies into employees.
Employees into dependents.
Dependents into loyalists.
Sometimes it worked.
Sometimes it gave betrayal an office.
“Valli raised Matteo?” Diego asked.
“Partly.”
“Then how did Matteo become Marco?”
“Marco Valli was the identity.”
Diego frowned.
“He uses Ramos family connections through my aunt.”
“Created connections.”
Fausto nodded.
“Carefully constructed.”
Diego thought back through twelve years of memories.
Marco at Christmas.
Marco at board dinners.
Marco joining charity events.
Always present enough to be familiar.
Never important enough to be examined.
Perfect camouflage.
Sofia asked, “Why did Valli wait so long?”
Fausto looked at Diego.
“Because revenge wasn't enough.”
“He wanted my father alive to see it?”
“Originally.”
“But Father died.”
“Yes.”
“So he transferred it to me.”
Fausto nodded.
“Valli wanted the Ramos empire to collapse from internal corruption. Your father's sons fighting. His trusted attorney betraying him. His future daughter-in-law selling him out. He wanted Antonio's legacy to rot.”
Diego leaned back.
“And the falsified payments?”
“Probably years in preparation.”
Sofia moved toward the table.
“We have thirty-six hours before Cecilia's scheduled leak.”
“Can we stop the email?” Fausto asked.
“Maybe,” Diego said. “But that doesn't remove the evidence.”
Even if fake transactions had been planted, they existed.
Accounts had moved money.
Signatures had been forged.
Regulators would see smoke before anyone proved who lit the fire.
Diego called an emergency meeting of three trusted executives.
For the first time, he appeared without the wheelchair.
The reaction was almost comical.
One man dropped his glasses.
Another crossed himself.
Diego did not explain.
“We have a compromised internal network.”
He assigned audits.
Banks were notified discreetly.
Transfers froze.
Independent forensic accountants were brought in.
For twelve hours, Villa Ramos became a command center.
Sofia coordinated documents.
Carlo rebuilt security.
Fausto handled the medical cover story.
Marco stayed under guard voluntarily.
Claudio remained confined to the estate while lawyers negotiated his cooperation.
At eight that evening, Diego found Sofia asleep at the library table.
Her cheek rested beside a stack of financial records.
He stood in the doorway.
For once, nobody needed him.
He watched her.
The woman had no financial stake in Ramos Holdings.
No inheritance.
No blood tie.
No reason to remain except that she had decided leaving was wrong.
Diego placed a blanket over her shoulders.
Sofia opened one eye.
“You're terrible at sneaking.”
“I wasn't sneaking.”
“You walk like an angry grandfather with that cane.”
“Go back to sleep.”
She sat up.
“When did you last sleep?”
“Hospital.”
“That wasn't sleep. That was morphine.”
“Close enough.”
“No.”
She pointed to the sofa.
Diego stared at her.
“Sofia.”
“Sit.”
“I employ you.”
“For housekeeping.”
“Exactly.”
“This is housekeeping for your brain.”
Despite himself, he sat.
She handed him a pillow.
“You're very authoritative for an employee.”
“You're very disobedient for a fake invalid.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
Then his expression softened.
“Why did you stay?”
She knew what he meant.
Not tonight.
After the accident.
“Because everyone else looked at you and saw something they could gain.”
“And you?”
“I saw someone nobody was treating like a person.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
“No hidden motive?”
She smiled.
“Your trust issues are exhausting.”
“People keep justifying them.”
“Then perhaps stop surrounding yourself with terrible people.”
He looked toward the sleeping villa.
“That list is getting shorter.”
Sofia hesitated.
“Diego?”
“Yes?”
“When this is over, what happens?”
“To what?”
“To you.”
He understood.
Would he return to the same world?
The same methods?
The same cold empire where fear substituted for loyalty?
“I don't know.”
Sofia nodded.
“That might be the first honest answer you've given me.”
At midnight, Carlo entered.
“We found the source account.”
Diego stood.
The falsified payments all routed through one shell corporation.
The company had been created thirteen years earlier.
Director: Lorenzo Valli.
But the beneficial owner was someone else.
Fausto.
The room went silent.
Diego slowly looked at the doctor.
Fausto went white.
“I've never seen that company.”
“Your identification opened the account.”
“Forged.”
“Your signature.”
“Forged.”
Diego stepped closer.
“Were they?”
Fausto's voice broke.
“I lied for you. I risked my license.”
“You also lied for my father.”
“Yes.”
“How many lies, Arthur?”
Fausto backed toward the desk.
Then Sofia noticed something.
His left hand.
A tremor.
Not fear.
Pain.
“Roll up your sleeve,” she said.
Fausto stared.
“What?”
“Your sleeve.”
He refused.
Diego pulled it back.
Dark marks circled Fausto's forearm.
Recent needle sites.
Sofia frowned.
“You're being treated for something.”
Fausto sank into a chair.
“Cancer.”
Silence.
“Six months,” he whispered. “Maybe less.”
Diego's anger faded slightly.
Fausto looked at the financial documents.
“Valli knew. He offered experimental treatment in Switzerland. I refused.”
“Then why use your identity?”
“To make you think I accepted.”
Diego understood.
Another planted suspect.
Another fracture Valli hoped Diego would widen himself.
Then Fausto said, “There is one thing I did accept.”
Diego's eyes hardened.
“What?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
“For?”
Fausto covered his face.
“To change one medical record.”
“Whose?”
Fausto looked toward Marco.
“Matteo's.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“What record?”
Fausto took a long breath.
“His DNA profile.”
Diego stared.
“Why?”
“Because Valli didn't want anyone discovering Matteo wasn't Salvatore De Luca's biological son.”
Sofia froze.
Marco stepped forward.
“What?”
Fausto looked at him.
“Salvatore wasn't your father.”
“Then who was?”
The doctor closed his eyes.
“Antonio Ramos.”
Nobody moved.
Marco stared at Diego.
May you like
And suddenly the family war became something else entirely.
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