CHAPTER 49: ARIA'S LOOK ALIKE
I slammed the photograph onto the coffee table.
"You have to know who this is, Arthur," I said.
The wood creaked under the impact, and the mug of tea rattled against its saucer.
Arthur flinched hard.
His eyes darted from my shaking hand to my face. He adjusted his glasses twice, his fingers trembling so badly he almost dropped them.
"Jesus..." he muttered under his breath.
Martha sat frozen on the couch, her knitting needles clamped tightly in her fists.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too hot.
"Aria, please take a breath," Arthur whispered, his voice cracking as he stared at the image again. "You are asking about things that were buried for a reason."
I laughed bitterly.
"The reason is lying in an ICU bed right now with tubes running out of his chest," I shot back angrily. "Dominic is broken because of this. Luca is terrified and hiding under blankets every time a phone rings. And you are sitting here telling me to take a breath?"
