Chương 4
I had become important to people who had enemies.
I had expected the documents to reveal a simple lie.
A missing payment.
A hidden account.
A mistake made by someone trying to cover their own failure.
Instead, every page made the situation harder to understand.
The contracts showed my father's bakery had been used as collateral for a business agreement he never signed.
The signatures were close enough to his handwriting to fool someone who did not know him.
But I knew my father.
He always crossed his T's too long.
He always pressed harder on the first letter of his name.
The signature on the page looked like him.
It was not him.
"That's not my father's signature," I said.
Luca looked at the document.
"You are sure?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation.
My father had written my name on birthday cards, grocery lists, and the notes he left beside the coffee machine when he had to open the bakery early.
I knew his handwriting better than I knew my own.
Elena leaned closer.
"Forgery."
"Possibly," Luca said.
"Possibly?"
He looked at her.
"We need more than a feeling."
That answer annoyed me.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was reasonable.
I hated when reasonable people ruined my ability to be dramatic.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
Luca closed the folder.
"Now we find out who created the documents."
"And then?"
"Then we decide what to do."
I crossed my arms.
"That sounds like something people say when they already know what they are going to do."
His eyes moved to me.
"You think I do not?"
"I think you are used to making decisions alone."
The words came out sharper than I intended.
A muscle moved in his jaw.
Then he nodded slightly.
"Fair."
That single word surprised me.
Most powerful people I had met treated criticism like an insult.
Luca treated it like information.
It made him more difficult to dislike.
Which was inconvenient.
I preferred simple problems.
A broken oven could be repaired.
A late delivery could be replaced.
A person who was both intimidating and considerate was much harder.
The next hour passed with Elena calling people from the estate's office while Luca examined the documents.
I learned several things.
First, Luca hated sitting still.
Even when reading, his fingers moved against the edge of the paper.
Second, Elena was the only person in the house who interrupted him without fear.
Third, the guards were not emotionless machines.
One of them quietly asked the kitchen staff to prepare coffee because he noticed I had not eaten since arriving.
I thanked him.
He looked surprised.
"People usually don't thank me."
"People usually don't thank strangers who stand in corners looking like they know ten ways to hide a body."
His face remained serious.
Then his mouth twitched.
"Fair."
I was beginning to suspect everyone in Luca's world had forgotten how to laugh properly.
Like it was a language they once knew but rarely practiced.
The coffee arrived twenty minutes later.
I drank it too quickly and burned my tongue.
Luca noticed.
"You do that often?"
"What?"
"Ignore your own discomfort because something else feels more important."
I looked at him.
"That is a very specific observation."
"Because it is familiar."
The answer stayed with me.
Before I could respond, Elena returned with a laptop.
"I found something."
Luca immediately stood.
"What?"
She placed the computer on the table.
"Your father's old assistant kept digital copies of financial records."
"My father had an assistant?"
"Everyone had an assistant."
I glanced at Luca.
"Even you?"
"No."
"Really?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't like people knowing my schedule."
I smiled slightly.
"That is the least surprising thing you have said."
Elena ignored us.
"The records show the loan was transferred three times."
"To where?"
"Two companies."
She turned the screen.
"The first was legitimate."
"And the second?"
Her expression changed.
"Not exactly."
I stepped closer.
The company name appeared on the screen.
It was unfamiliar.
But the address was not.
My stomach tightened.
"That's my bakery's old address."
Nobody spoke.
The company had been registered using the location where my mother's bakery had stood for twenty years.
"How is that possible?" I whispered.
Luca looked at the screen.
"Someone wanted a connection between your family and this company."
"Why?"
"To make the paperwork appear real."
I stared at the address.
The building suddenly felt different in my memory.
Not like a bakery.
Like evidence.
That hurt more than I expected.
Some places are supposed to stay untouched.
Even after they are gone.
My mother's kitchen.
The old wooden shelves.
The small crack in the back door she always promised to fix but never did.
Someone had taken all of that and turned it into a piece of a scheme.
"I need to call my father."
The words escaped before I thought about them.
Silence followed.
Luca looked at me carefully.
"Sophia."
"He needs to know."
"Your father is the reason you came here."
"I know."
"Are you sure you want to tell him?"
The question bothered me.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Luca looked at Elena.
Neither answered.
That made me angry.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" Elena asked.
"Looking at each other like you are having a conversation I am not invited to."
The room became quiet.
Then Elena sighed.
"Your father has not been completely honest with you."
I felt something inside me tighten.
"About what?"
"About why he agreed to this marriage."
I looked at Luca.
He did not look away.
That was somehow worse.
"Tell me."
Elena hesitated.
Luca spoke first.
"He believed the debt would be forgiven if you married me."
"I know that."
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"He believed your marriage would prevent someone from hurting you."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"He knew someone was investigating him."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
Luca looked down.
"Because he thought he was protecting you."
May you like
I laughed once.
It was not a happy sound.
