As Turricci continued to mumble nonsense about our undeniable family likeness, I assessed my situation.
I was injured, vulnerable. I had no gun. I couldn’t use my body, my Budo training, because of my injured leg. I’d trained for years to not be weak in situations like this. And yet, here I was. I needed to get to the fireplace poker. But I needed some advantage if I were going to be able to use it.
All I had left was my mind.
That’s what Budo taught me. The melding of spiritual, physical, and mental strength.
In this case, my words, not my hands or legs, were my only weapons.
I would choose them carefully.
The truth was my only weapon.
Turricci kept talking, occasionally leaning over me with a confusing glimmer of kindness in his eyes.
“You will inherit everything I have. You are my only flesh and blood. I will take you home to the villa — now it is yours. You will love it. Everything I have is yours.”
I pressed my lips tightly together and shook my head. At that moment despite myself, I felt pity for this unlovable man.
“No?” he seemed genuinely surprised. “Because I killed your mother? You will forgive me for that. It may take time, but I am a patient man. You are all I have left. You will learn to love me. She poisoned you against me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Your name never crossed her lips. You weren’t important enough for her to talk about. She never said anything to me about you.”
He didn’t answer but the clench of his jaw said it all.
I waited a few seconds, trying not to look at the fireplace poker. I needed him to be upset. To lose his cool. I needed something crazy to happen if I were going to get to that poker.
“There is something you need to know.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“There are some letters in my jacket you need to see.”
I reached for my jacket, but the gorilla put out an arm and pressed me back into the bed. Turricci nodded and the gorilla reached inside the inner pocket of my jacket and took out the envelopes. He handed them to Turricci.
I held my breath watching as Turricci read his own love letters and then turned to the birth certificate. He took the paper and unfolded it with a smile.
“Look at the paper underneath.”
He shuffled the papers and began to read. The smile faded and his face grew ashen. He looked up at me, stricken.
I grinned. “I’m not your daughter.”