Chương 7
It was inside the family.
Vittorio gave them instructions.
“No one enters this room without my approval.”
One guard hesitated.
“Mr. Bellini, should we contact the authorities?”
Vittorio looked at Lucy.
Then at Emma.
Then at the phone containing months of evidence.
“Yes.”
The decision felt heavier than any business decision he had ever made.
The guard nodded and stepped away.
Bianca closed her eyes.
“Vittorio.”
He did not look at her.
“Please.”
He finally turned.
“What?”
Her voice lowered.
“I know what I did was wrong.”
Nobody expected those words.
Not even Bianca.
“But if this becomes public, everything is destroyed.”
Vittorio stared at her.
“What are you asking me to protect?”
She looked down.
“The family.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he answered.
“A family that survives by hiding what happened to a child is not protected.”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
She looked away quickly.
The movement reminded Vittorio of someone trying to hide pain because they were embarrassed by having it.
He almost felt sympathy.
Almost.
But sympathy was not the same as trust.
And trust was not something he could force back into existence.
Emma returned from upstairs carrying a small bag.
Lucy followed beside her.
“What is that?” Vittorio asked.
“My things.”
Lucy answered.
“Emma helped me pack.”
Vittorio looked at the small bag.
There were no toys spilling out.
No books.
No collection of childhood things.
Just a few clothes.
A toothbrush.
A stuffed rabbit with one damaged ear.
“That is all?”
Lucy shrugged.
“I didn’t know what I was allowed to take.”
The sentence stayed with him.
A child in her own home had been unsure what belonged to her.
Vittorio took the bag.
“Everything you want is yours.”
Lucy looked at him.
“Even the old things?”
“Especially the old things.”
She nodded.
Outside, a black vehicle waited near the front entrance.
The mansion looked exactly the same as it had that morning.
The same windows.
The same stone walls.
The same perfect appearance.
But Vittorio knew now that appearances were not protection.
They were sometimes just a better hiding place.
As they walked toward the door, Marcus spoke behind him.
“Vittorio.”
He stopped.
Marcus’s voice had changed.
Less arrogant.
More desperate.
“You really think you know the whole story?”
Vittorio turned.
“No.”
Marcus looked surprised.
“I know I don’t.”
He held Lucy’s hand.
“That is why I am finally going to listen.”
Marcus said nothing.
And for once, silence did not protect him.
The name Marcus said over the phone belonged to someone Vittorio had not thought about in years.
“Daniel Bellini.”
Vittorio stood completely still.
The room around him seemed to lose sound.
“Say that again.”
Marcus breathed out slowly.
“Your brother.”
Vittorio looked toward the hallway where Lucy was sleeping.
His first instinct was disbelief.
His second was anger.
His third was the uncomfortable feeling that Marcus had finally said something he had been afraid to say.
“My brother has been dead for fifteen years.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you say his name?”
Marcus was silent.
Vittorio gripped the phone tighter.
“Marcus.”
“He is not involved.”
The answer came too quickly.
Vittorio noticed.
“Then explain.”
Another pause.
“I need to tell you something, but not over the phone.”
“No.”
“Vittorio.”
“No.”
His voice remained low.
“You do not get to decide the conditions anymore.”
Marcus said nothing.
“You spent months deciding what people were allowed to know.”
The silence that followed was heavier.
“Tell me now.”
Marcus sighed.
“Daniel’s daughter contacted Bianca six months ago.”
Vittorio frowned.
His mind searched through old memories.
Daniel had one daughter.
Ava.
She had been eight years old when Daniel died.
Vittorio had tried to keep contact with her after the funeral.
Then life became complicated.
Arguments over inheritance.
Distance.
Legal disputes.
Time.
The usual excuses people gave themselves when they lost someone slowly.
“What does Ava have to do with this?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
Vittorio sat down.
“Why would Ava contact Bianca?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Because she believed Bianca knew something about her father.”
Vittorio felt his chest tighten.
“About his death?”
“Yes.”
The word stayed between them.
For fifteen years, Daniel’s death had been described as an accident.
A late-night highway crash.
A wet road.
A mistake.
Vittorio had accepted it because he had been too exhausted to question anything.
His brother had died.
There had been paperwork.
A funeral.
A closed case.
Life had continued because it had to.
“What did Bianca tell her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Marcus’s voice became frustrated.
“I am telling you what I know.”
“Which is always less than what you should have told me.”
The accusation landed.
Marcus did not defend himself.
That was unusual.
“What else?” Vittorio asked.
Marcus took a breath.
“Daniel had documents.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because Bianca never told me everything.”
Vittorio stood again.
The anger returned.
“You were working with her.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know something.”
“I know enough to know I made a mistake.”
Vittorio walked toward the window.
Below him, the city continued moving.
Cars.
Lights.
People going home.
Normal lives.
He hated how normal everything looked.
“What mistake?”
Marcus answered quietly.
“I thought I was protecting the family.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“You don’t know.”
Marcus became silent.
“You protected a reputation.”
Vittorio looked at the reflection of himself in the glass.
“You protected comfort.”
He paused.
“You protected yourself.”
Marcus did not argue.
That was the closest thing to an apology Vittorio was going to receive.
“Where is Ava now?”
“I don’t know.”
Vittorio almost laughed.
Almost.
Then he heard something behind him.
Lucy standing in the doorway.
She was holding her stuffed rabbit.
Her hair was messy from sleep.
“How long have you been awake?” Vittorio asked.
She shrugged.
“Long enough.”
He ended the call.
May you like
Not because he was finished.
Because she mattered more.
