Chương 8
It settled into the body first.
A tightened jaw.
A hand becoming still.
A person forgetting to breathe normally.
Luca lowered the tablet slowly.
"My father wrote my name."
Elena looked at the words again.
"Not directly."
"But he mentioned her."
Her eyes moved toward me.
I noticed the change.
The way she looked at me was different now.
Not suspicion.
Concern.
That somehow felt worse.
"What does victim mean?" I asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
I hated that.
I hated being the person in the room who knew the least.
"Luca."
He looked at the screen again.
"There are missing pages."
"From the file?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because my father never wrote anything this short."
The answer was strange.
But I understood it.
People leave patterns behind.
The way someone writes.
The way someone speaks.
The way they avoid certain subjects.
My father always wrote grocery lists with unnecessary details.
He would write "milk" and then add "the blue carton, not the cheap one."
Like the world might collapse if someone bought the wrong milk.
Luca's father apparently had his own habits.
"Can we recover the rest?" I asked.
The security employee shook his head.
"Maybe."
"Maybe again."
He looked uncomfortable.
"I am sorry."
I held up a hand.
"Don't apologize."
Everyone looked at me.
"I am starting to think apologies are the favorite currency in this house."
Elena looked down.
Luca almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the moment disappeared.
"We need to find out who accessed the file," Luca said.
The employee nodded.
"We are checking."
"No."
Luca looked at him.
"Do not only check the system."
The employee waited.
"Check the people who knew the system existed."
That was the first time I saw everyone in the room become uncomfortable.
Because technology was easier to blame.
Machines did not have motives.
People did.
I followed Luca back into the conference room.
My mind was moving faster than I wanted.
The marriage.
The debt.
The warning.
The photograph.
Everything was connected.
But the center of it was still missing.
Me.
Why me?
I sat down.
"Luca."
He stopped.
"Why would your father mention me?"
He did not answer.
That bothered me.
"Do you know something?"
"No."
"That was not convincing."
He leaned against the table.
"I know my father was capable of planning ten steps ahead."
"That is not what I asked."
"I know."
The frustration in his voice was not directed at me.
It was at himself.
"When I was younger, I thought he was preparing me to inherit his business."
"What was he preparing you for?"
His eyes moved toward the window.
"Survival."
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
"What happened six years ago?"
Luca stayed quiet.
Elena answered instead.
"Antonio Vieri disappeared."
I looked at her.
"The man you mentioned earlier?"
She nodded.
"Antonio worked with our father for years."
"Was he a friend?"
Elena looked uncertain.
"No."
That answer was interesting.
"What was he?"
She took a breath.
"Someone our father trusted too much."
Luca sat down.
"My father believed Antonio was loyal."
"And?"
"And he was wrong."
I waited.
Luca continued.
"After Antonio disappeared, my father changed."
"Because he lost someone close?"
"Because he realized someone close had betrayed him."
The room became quiet.
"And you think that person is connected to me?"
Luca looked at me.
"I think whoever created this wants us to believe that."
That was a careful answer.
Too careful.
"You don't believe it."
"No."
"Why?"
He looked away.
"Because my father spent the last year of his life trying to keep one person away from danger."
"Who?"
His eyes returned to mine.
"You."
I felt my heartbeat change.
"But he didn't know me."
"He knew your mother."
That stopped me.
"My mother?"
Elena looked at Luca.
"You never told her?"
He shook his head.
"Not yet."
I stood up.
"What does my mother have to do with this?"
Luca did not speak immediately.
That silence was becoming a habit.
A terrible one.
"My father and your mother knew each other."
The room seemed to tilt.
"No."
"I am sorry."
"No."
I shook my head.
"My mother owned a bakery."
"Yes."
"She made cakes."
"Yes."
"She had no connection to your family."
Luca looked at me.
"That is what you were told."
The anger arrived before the sadness.
It was easier.
Anger had somewhere to go.
"My entire life is suddenly full of things people decided not to tell me."
Nobody argued.
Because they knew.
"My father."
"My father."
I laughed quietly.
"Everyone's fathers."
I walked toward the window.
Outside, the garden looked exactly the same.
That felt insulting.
The world should have changed.
The trees should have moved.
The sky should have looked different.
But it didn't.
"What did they know each other for?" I asked.
Luca answered carefully.
"Your mother helped people."
"That sounds vague."
"It is."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know the full story."
I turned.
"You don't know?"
"No."
The honesty caught me off guard.
"I know my father trusted her."
"Why?"
"Because she was the only person who could disagree with him and make him listen."
I looked down.
A memory came unexpectedly.
My mother standing in the bakery doorway with flour on her cheek.
My father arguing about money.
Her telling him he was too proud to admit he needed help.
He had laughed.
Then he had apologized.
She had that effect on people.
She made stubborn people remember they were human.
"She knew about the debt?"
"I don't know."
"Did she know about this?"
"I don't know."
The repeated answer should have frustrated me.
Instead, it made him more believable.
He was not pretending to have control.
He was admitting he didn't.
The door opened.
Marco entered.
His expression was serious.
"Mr. Moretti."
Luca looked up.
"What?"
"We found the person who accessed the system."
Everyone became still.
"Who?"
Marco hesitated.
That hesitation told me it was someone important.
"An employee."
"Name."
Marco looked at Elena.
Then at Luca.
May you like
"Gianni Russo."
Elena frowned.
