Revenge Of Domenico Santoro

Chapter 5. The Revelation

Damian slowly opened one eye, despite the throbbing pain in his head. "Argh…," he winced while attempting to get up. A middle-aged man rushed to his side, worry in his eyes as he looked down at Damian. Confused, Damian realized he was in a hospital bed with his body aching like hell.

"What the hell?" Damian exclaimed. "Why am I here?" he asked, wincing again as talking seemed to intensify his pain. Then he remembered the warden.

"Young master, I'm glad you're finally awake. I've been looking for you since your father's passing," the man said with a smile.

Damian blinked, trying to recall where he'd seen this man before. "Who are you?" Damian managed to ask.

"Don't you remember me?" the man blinked in return. "I'm Roberto, your father's butler," he said. Damian stared, not convinced.

"I'm an orphan," Damian retorted, his frustration evident. He felt betrayed by the kings and his wife, and he wasn't inclined to trust another unknown person claiming to know him.

"Why am I here instead of prison?" Damian demanded.

"You're free now, Young master," Roberto said with a smile.

Damian was skeptical. "Free? Why do you keep calling me that?"

"As I mentioned earlier, I am your father's butler. I've watched you grow, Mr. Santoro," Roberto explained.

Damian scoffed. "Free? Are you playing games with me? Santoro? What's going on?" he snapped.

Roberto's wonderment grew. Was Damian pretending not to recognize him? He'd been close to Damian during his childhood, even more so than Damian's own father.

"Do you really not remember me, young master?" Roberto asked uneasily.

"I don't. And stop calling me that," Damian hissed. "How did I get out?"

"The head of police secured your release," Roberto answered dutifully, puzzled by Damian's lack of recognition. Even after 20 years, there hadn't been much change in his own appearance.

"The head of police? The kings didn't release me?" Damian asked, clearly surprised.

"The Kings? No. Why are you so focused on them? Are you connected to them somehow?" Roberto inquired.

Damian hesitated, a sharp pang in his heart. It wasn't the answer he'd expected.

"Why did the head suddenly request my release?" Damian questioned.

"I asked him to," Roberto admitted. As Damian stared at him in shock, Roberto clarified, "I mean, I commanded him to."

Damian chuckled in disbelief, intrigued by this mysterious man. "You weren't joking about being my father's butler?"

Roberto shook his head, revealing a photo from his wallet. It depicted a young Damian and himself.

"That's me," Damian breathed, looking at Roberto in astonishment.

"Do you remember now?" Roberto asked, his happiness evident. Damian held his head, wincing.

"Are you alright, young master?" Roberto asked, his hand gently touching Damian's.

"I'm fine. Why can't I remember you when you remember me?" Damian asked anxiously. He had grown up in an orphanage and knew nothing about his birth parents or his past.

"I'm not sure why. We have been searching for you for the past twenty years after the death of your father. It hasn't been frustrating because you changed your name and we didn't know what you'd look like when you grew up."

"My father? You know my father?"

"I was his butler. Giovanni Santoro, the son of the most influential Italian in the whole of Italy. You're his only son, Young Master," Roberto said with delight.

"Wait. Wait, I don't understand. Why didn't I grow up with my father? Why did I believe all this while that I was an orphan? And why don't I seem to remember you or him?" Damian asked.

"That... I can't answer, Young Master," Roberto said as Damian watched him.

"This is insane," Damian sighed and shook his head. He turned to look at Roberto again. Was he playing games with him?

"How did you suddenly come to the conclusion that I am the lost son of this Giovanni Santoro?"

"DNA," Roberto replied.

"What?" Damian asked.

"There's a pint of blood passed down through the Santoro generations. This pint of blood contains the blood of the ancestors. The Santoros are known to be the most respected family in all of Italy, and this pint of blood in a necklace is said to be a family heirloom worn by the head of the family in every generation. After your disappearance on the day of the unfortunate accident you and your father were in, Mr. Giovanni handed me the heirloom and asked me to find you with that blood. The blood which we used to run a DNA test," Roberto explained as Damian watched him.

"I was involved in an accident? With my father? And he died? But I didn't? But I was nowhere to be found after the accident? Why don't I remember any of this?" Damian asked in frustration.

"I'm not sure why you can't remember anything, Young Master," Roberto said sincerely as Damian drew in a deep breath.

"That means my father's death wasn't just ordinary, for me to go missing on the spot. Someone was obviously eyeing him," Damian said.

"Mr. Giovanni was a good man. He never wanted the family's inheritance. He had left home when he was young to start his own company even though it wasn't necessary. I don't know why anyone would want to kill him," Roberto said solemnly.

Damian stared at him for a while, as if still deliberating whether to believe him or not. But there was evidence: the picture, DNA tests.

"Don't call me Young Master, I'm Damian."

"Damian?" Roberto asked in surprise.

"Yeah... do you want to tell me that isn't true too?" Damian asked jokingly.

"It isn't," Roberto shook his head.

"Wow," Damian smiled nervously. Things were getting interesting.

"I know my surname is Santoro at least," Damian chuckled.

"Your birth name is Domenico Santoro, Sir. The only son of Giovanni Santoro," Roberto said as Damian faked a smile.

"My whole life has been a lie," Damian murmured to himself and stared back at Roberto.

"So... what do you want from me?" Damian asked, not sure why this man was hell-bent on proving his lineage.

"Your $900 billion worth inheritance is waiting for you. The Santoro lineage needs to be carried on by you, Sir," Roberto said as Damian's eyes widened as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.