The Recipe of Lies

"Let him go, Domenico," Matteo commanded, his gun trained perfectly on his brother's chest.

Marco groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He looked weak, the poison still ravaging his system. When he saw Matteo, his face twisted in a mixture of hatred and confusion.

"You," Marco spat, blood on his teeth. "You killed her."

"I loved her," Matteo said, his voice breaking. He lowered his gun slightly, looking directly into Marco's terrified eyes. "She was my wife. And you are my son."

Marco froze. He looked at Domenico. "What is he talking about?"

"Lies," Domenico hissed, digging the barrel of his gun harder into Marco's skull. "He's trying to save his own life. Throw your gun off the roof, Matteo. Or the boy dies right now."

I stepped out from behind Matteo.

Marco’s eyes widened when he saw me. "Elena? What are you doing here? Get out of here!"

"Marco, listen to me," I shouted over the howling wind. "Domenico is lying to you! Our mother didn't run from Matteo. She ran from Domenico! He killed our grandfather to steal the family fortune. He's using you to finish the job!"

Domenico laughed, a bitter, sharp sound. "It doesn't matter what the girl says. I have the boy. I have the recipe book. My men are planting it in his apartment right now. By tomorrow morning, Matteo De Luca will be dead, and his bastard son will take the fall for it."

Answer One, Open Two. Domenico thought he had won. He thought the recipe book was his final piece of evidence.

But he had made one massive mistake.

"You don't have the recipe book," I said, my voice steadying.

Domenico’s smile faltered. "What?"

I reached into the pocket of my apron, which I was incredibly still wearing, and pulled out the worn, leather-bound notebook.

"My mother taught me never to bring the original book to work," I said loud enough for the wind to carry it. "The book your men stole from my apartment? It’s a copy I made three years ago. It doesn't have the hidden compartment. It doesn't have the torn photograph. It means absolutely nothing."

Domenico’s face twisted in pure rage. He realized his perfect frame job was falling apart.

"Give me the book, you little bitch!" Domenico screamed, turning his gun away from Marco and aiming it directly at me.

"Elena, down!" Matteo roared.

Domenico pulled the trigger.

The gunshot deafened the rooftop.

But I didn't feel the bullet.

Matteo threw himself in front of me, taking the shot perfectly in the shoulder. The force of the impact spun him around, and he collapsed onto the gravel, bleeding heavily.

"Matteo!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him.

Seeing Matteo take a bullet for his sister snapped Marco out of his poisoned daze. With a sudden, desperate roar of adrenaline, Marco threw his elbow backward, smashing it directly into Domenico’s nose.

Domenico stumbled, dropping his weapon.

Before Domenico could recover, the rooftop doors burst open. Luca and five of Matteo’s heavily armed men swarmed the roof.

"Don't move!" Luca shouted, pinning Domenico to the ground with a knee to his spine.

Marco collapsed onto his knees, gasping for air. He looked at Matteo, who was bleeding on the ground but still breathing, holding his shoulder.

"You... you took a bullet for her," Marco whispered, his voice trembling with the realization of the truth. "Domenico said you were a monster."

Matteo grimaced, pushing himself up onto his good elbow. He reached out with his bloody hand and gently gripped Marco’s shoulder.

"I have done terrible things in my life," Matteo said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I have never stopped looking for your mother. And I will never stop protecting you."

Marco broke down, sobbing as the adrenaline left his system.