Chapter 19 - The Truth
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Six months after Mom's death, I found the letter.
It was in a safe deposit box. One I didn't know existed. Mom had left it for me.
Inside was a single piece of paper. Handwritten. Not Mom's handwriting.
Dad's.
Marcus,
If you're reading this, I'm dead. And your mother probably is too.
I need you to know the truth. The whole truth.
I wasn't killed because I was going to the police. I was killed because I was the police.
I was an undercover agent. FBI. Working the DeLuca family for years. Trying to bring them down from the inside.
Your mother found out. She didn't kill me to protect the family. She killed me because I betrayed her.
I loved her. I did. But I loved justice more.
I'm sorry. For everything. For the lies. For the pain. For leaving you.
But I need you to know: I died doing the right thing.
I died trying to make the world a better place.
I hope you can forgive me.
Dad
I read the letter. Then I read it again.
Dad was FBI. Dad was a hero.
And Mom killed him.
Not because he was a threat. Because he was a traitor.
I called Jake.
"Hey. What's up?"
"I need you to look into something."
"What?"
"My father. Anthony DeLuca. Was he FBI?"
Silence.
"Jake?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Jake—"
"I can't tell you that over the phone. But... yes."
"How long have you known?"
"I suspected. For a while. But I couldn't confirm it until after your mother died."
"You knew?"
"I didn't know. I suspected. There's a difference."
"Did Karen know?"
"No. Nobody knew. It was classified."
"She killed him. Because he was a cop."
"She killed him because she was a criminal. He was doing his job."
"He was my father."
"He was a hero."
I sat there. The letter in my hand. Everything I thought I knew turned upside down.
"Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know."
"Talk to me."
"He lied to us. Our whole lives. He was FBI. He was using us."
"He was protecting you. In his own way."
"He was lying."
"Sometimes lying is the only way to protect people."
I thought about that. About Dad. About Mom. About everything.
"I need to tell Karen."
"Yeah. You do."
I hung up. Called Karen.
"Hey. Can you come over?"
"What's up?"
"I found something. Something about Dad."
"I'll be right there."
She arrived in ten minutes. I showed her the letter.
She read it. Read it again. Looked at me.
"He was FBI."
"Yeah."
"He was a hero."
"Yeah."
"And Mom killed him."
"Yeah."
She sat down. Quiet.
"I don't know what to feel."
"Me neither."
We sat there. Together. The letter between us.
"He was doing the right thing."
"He was."
"And he died for it."
"He did."
She looked at me. "What do we do now?"
I thought about it. About Dad. About his sacrifice.
"We live. We do the right thing. We make him proud."
"How?"
I didn't know. But I knew one thing.
We'd figure it out.
Together.
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