Grace's hands trembled as she held the birth certificate in her lap.
Her father's name was expected.
But it was the other name scrawled beside it—barely legible—that shattered everything.
Luciano DeMarco.
Not as father.
But as witness.
Why would the man who claimed to meet her only three years ago be listed on a document from when she was born?
The truth came slowly.
Like poison in a glass of red wine.
She stormed out of the safe house Simon had hidden her in and drove to the abandoned church where it all began.
The first place she met Luciano.
The place he "accidentally" ran into her.
But now she knew better.
He had known her all along.
She opened a rusted drawer beneath the altar.
Inside: a locket.
One she hadn't seen in over 15 years.
She opened it.
Inside were two pictures.
Her mother.
And Luciano.
---
Elsewhere…
Luciano stared at the bullet lodged in the spine of the last man who threatened her.
"Grace," he whispered into the darkness, voice cracking, "I told you lies to protect you from the truth."
He didn't cry.
Saints didn't cry.
But the scar on his chest—the one she stitched closed herself months ago—itched with every breath.
Because it wasn't the bullet wounds that hurt him now.
It was her absence.
---
Back at the church, Grace dialed Simon.
"Tell me who he really is."
Simon sighed through the line.
"You're not just the daughter of a traitor, Grace."
She froze.
"You're the heir to a blood oath.
And Luciano DeMarco was sworn to protect you."
Grace clenched the locket.
Then whispered, "Then why does it feel like he's destroying me?"