Chương 12
Carlo De Luca was arrested in Lyon six days later.
He had carried two ledgers, a packet of photographs, and nearly four hundred thousand euros in bearer bonds. Under questioning, he claimed Vittorio ordered him to destroy the ledgers but that he had preserved them as insurance.
Insurance became cooperation within forty-eight hours.
The ledgers showed payments to Gabriele Conti, the gunman Vittorio had named, as well as transfers to officers who altered Maria’s accident report. One notation recorded a payment for “Rossi resolution” on the day Matteo Rossi disappeared.
Vittorio was arrested at breakfast.
Alessandro watched from the upper gallery as officers entered the dining room. His uncle stood before they reached him and adjusted his cuffs.
“You have your answer,” Vittorio said as they secured his hands.
“No,” Alessandro replied. “I have records.”
Vittorio smiled faintly. “Your mother would hate what you have become.”
The words found their target. Vittorio had trained him too well to miss.
Alessandro gripped the gallery railing.
“She did,” he said.
For the first time, Vittorio’s composure broke.
Only slightly. A tightening around the eyes. A delayed breath.
Then the officers led him away.
The mansion became quiet after the arrest.
Not peaceful. Emptied.
Relatives moved to hotels. Elena remained behind her locked bedroom door for two days before leaving for Florence without saying goodbye. Bianca resigned through her attorney. Half the staff accepted temporary placement in other properties. The other half stayed because leaving required money, references, and confidence they did not have.
Investigators occupied the west wing.
Alessandro’s bedroom was searched twice. His phones were copied. His passport was surrendered. Accounts were restricted. He received threatening messages from men he had once paid and praise from strangers who knew nothing about him except that he had betrayed criminals more famous than themselves.
He trusted neither response.
Sophia left the hospital after nine days.
She returned to the cottage because every alternative required her to surrender more control than she could tolerate. Police installed cameras at the garden gate and an alarm beside the bed. Giulia moved into the second room temporarily.
Alessandro did not enter without permission.
The first time he visited, he knocked on the new door and waited in the rain.
Sophia opened it wearing a blue sweater and an expression of mild annoyance.
“You could have called.”
“I did.”
“My phone was off.”
“I know.”
“That is usually a clue.”
He held out a paper bag.
“What is it?”
“Groceries.”
“We have groceries.”
“They’re for Emma.”
Sophia looked inside. Strawberries, yogurt, bread, and a box of expensive chocolate.
“She is three.”
“I know.”
“She does not need forty-euro chocolate.”
“I didn’t know what children eat.”
“The same food as people, generally.”
He took the bag back. “I’ll leave.”
Sophia sighed and opened the door wider.
Emma sat on the floor building a tower from empty thread spools. The stained shirt had been folded beside her blanket.
She ran to Alessandro and stopped a few inches away, as though remembering she had not decided whether hugging him was permitted.
He crouched.
“Hello.”
“You bring candy?”
“Apparently inappropriate candy.”
Emma looked at Sophia. “Can eat?”
“One piece after dinner.”
Emma threw both arms around Alessandro’s neck.
Sophia shook her head. “So much for standards.”
The cottage felt different with the shutters open. Late sunlight reached the kitchen table. Someone had placed yellow flowers in a jar beside the sink. The dry saucepan was gone.
Alessandro sat while Sophia made tea. She moved slowly and still coughed when she carried anything heavy.
“Let me,” he said when she lifted the kettle.
“No.”
“It’s full.”
“I noticed.”
“You were hospitalized.”
“I was not buried.”
She poured the water, spilling a little beside his cup.
“There,” she said. “A disaster.”
Alessandro wiped it with a cloth.
Emma watched them while eating a strawberry.
“Prosecutor Rinaldi said you gave a complete statement,” Sophia said.
“Not complete yet.”
“How much is left?”
“Years.”
She sat opposite him.
“Did you kill people?”
Emma was humming to herself. Sophia kept her voice low.
Alessandro looked at the steam rising from his tea.
“I ordered violence.”
“That was not my question.”
“Three deaths can be tied directly to my decisions.”
Sophia’s fingers tightened around her cup.
“Were they like my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Meaning innocent?”
“Meaning I accepted what I was told about them.”
“That is how men like your father remain innocent inside their own heads.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward Emma.
“What happens now?”
“I cooperate. My attorneys negotiate. Some companies will be sold. Others may continue under independent management.”
“And you?”
“I may be charged.”
“With what?”
“Racketeering. Conspiracy. Financial crimes. Possibly accessory charges depending on what others testify.”
“Prison?”
“Yes.”
Emma held up a strawberry. “Heart.”
Its shape did resemble one.
Sophia smiled at her. “Eat it before it changes.”
The child bit the strawberry in half.
Alessandro drank tea that was too hot.
“I used to imagine powerful people knew what they were doing,” Sophia said.
“We encourage that impression.”
“Were you frightened?”
“Often.”
“You never looked frightened.”
“That was the work.”
She studied him. “My mother said your mother worried you would become good at it.”
He set down the cup.
“Did Teresa speak about me?”
“Sometimes. She said you followed Maria through the house when you were small. She said you hated cooked carrots and hid them in flowerpots.”
“I did not.”
“You did. One of the palms died.”
“That could have been unrelated.”
Sophia almost smiled.
Then her face changed.
“My mother also said you stopped following Maria when you were thirteen. You started walking behind your father.”
Alessandro looked at Emma’s thread tower.
“At thirteen, I wanted him to respect me.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Did you keep trying?”
“Until he died.”
May you like
Sophia absorbed this without offering comfort.
“I hated my mother for being afraid,” she said after a while. “She checked the street before leaving home. She never sat near restaurant windows. She would not let me use our surname on school trips. I thought she was choosing fear over us.”
