Part 11
The board removed Matteo from operational control the following morning. The vote was temporary, pending investigation, but everyone understood Paolo’s victory.
Matteo left headquarters carrying a cardboard box containing two framed photographs, a notebook, and a coffee mug with a broken handle he had never thrown away. Employees pretended not to watch.
Outside, he placed the box in the back seat of his car and sat behind the wheel without starting the engine.
His phone displayed a message from Elena.
The provider is releasing the footage tomorrow.
He read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
I am afraid to watch it.
Matteo typed, You do not have to.
He erased the sentence.
The footage concerned her body, her fear, and the moment everyone else had turned into argument. Telling her she did not have to watch sounded like kindness, but it also gave him a role she had not requested.
He wrote instead, I’ll follow your decision.
After a minute, she replied.
Come at six. Not before.
At the serviced apartment, Elena had made soup from a carton and burned a piece of bread in the small oven. The smoke alarm had sounded until she stood beneath it waving a dish towel, then frightened herself with the exertion and sat on the kitchen floor.
When Matteo arrived, the burnt bread rested in the sink under running water.
“You could have called someone,” he said.
“I did. I called you for six.”
He turned off the tap.
She sat at the table wearing his old university sweatshirt over maternity leggings. He had not seen the sweatshirt in years. The cuffs were frayed.
“The baby is fine,” she said before he asked.
He sat opposite her.
The apartment smelled of scorched bread and tomato soup.
“Do you want to watch tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“The police will summarize it.”
“That means someone else tells me what happened.”
“Yes.”
“And if I watch, I get to see the worst minute of my life from the ceiling.”
He looked at his hands.
“There is no correct choice,” he said.
“No.”
“I won’t ask to watch unless you want me there.”
“I do want you there.”
He looked up.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said. “That isn’t forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“And I want Mara there.”
The sentence tightened something in his chest.
“She may not come.”
“I know.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No. You should.”
Matteo almost objected. Then he understood.
Elena did not want to place Mara in the position of choosing between friendship and Matteo’s request. If he wanted the privilege of being present, he had to face her himself.
He called the next morning.
Mara answered after six rings.
“Hello.”
Her voice was distant but steady.
“Elena wants us both there when she watches the footage.”
“I spoke to her.”
“She told you?”
“She asked whether I would come.”
Matteo closed his eyes briefly. “Then I’m not sure why she told me to call.”
“I am.”
He waited.
Mara did not rescue him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Silence.
He continued before he could shape the apology into something designed to be accepted.
“I saw Elena on the floor. I saw you standing near her. I was afraid, and I turned that fear into certainty because certainty let me act. I hit you before I knew anything. Then I allowed my father and lawyers to describe it as instinct, as though instinct excuses a choice. It doesn’t.”
Mara’s breathing remained quiet on the line.
“I humiliated you,” he said. “I hurt you. I made other people doubt you, and I made Elena more afraid. I admitted the assault to police. I will accept what follows. I am sorry.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He held the phone.
“I will be there for Elena,” Mara said. “Not for you.”
“I understand.”
“No. You understand the sentence. The rest will take longer.”
“Yes.”
She ended the call.
The footage was viewed in a private room at the police station. Elena sat between Mara and the social worker. Matteo sat across the table. Sofia and two investigators stood near the back wall. Paolo was not permitted to attend but had sent attorneys who watched from another room.
The recording began at 4:31 p.m.
The entrance hall appeared empty beneath the chandelier. Staff crossed occasionally carrying trays and flowers. Guests entered in small groups. Mara arrived at 4:47 wearing the burgundy dress and stopped to speak with Carla.
Elena appeared two minutes later in the pale sage maternity dress. She walked slowly but without visible distress. She touched Mara’s arm, then led her toward the console table.
There was no audio.
Mara watched herself remove folded pages from her handbag. Elena pointed to several sections. Their movements were calm at first.
At 4:54, Paolo entered from the private corridor.
Even without sound, the change in the room was visible. Elena gathered the papers. Mara stepped between Paolo and the console, not aggressively, but enough to create a boundary.
Paolo extended his hand.
Elena shook her head.
He spoke for almost a minute. His posture remained composed. He pointed toward the papers, then toward the staircase. Mara said something. Paolo turned on her with an expression the ceiling camera captured only in profile.
Elena took out her phone.
She photographed a page.
Paolo moved faster than anyone watching expected. His hand closed around her wrist. Elena pulled back. Mara reached toward them, then stopped when Paolo released Elena and took the phone.
Matteo inhaled sharply.
Elena stared at the table.
Onscreen, Paolo deleted something. Elena demanded the phone. He held it behind him. Mara moved around the console.
At 4:57, Paolo placed the phone on the carved tabletop with enough force that it slid behind a heavy ceramic vase.
May you like
Mara turned to retrieve it.
Paolo stepped into Elena’s path as she tried to move toward the open doors. He did not strike her. He did not shove her in any clear, simple way. His arm lifted across her body, blocking her. Elena recoiled. Paolo reached toward her again.
