Part 6
“I meant—”
“I know.”
He took the crutches and helped her into the passenger seat. The car smelled of wet fabric, coffee, and the pine air freshener he claimed not to have purchased.
As he drove toward her apartment, he kept both hands rigidly on the wheel.
“Did you file against him?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“It doesn’t feel good.”
“It isn’t supposed to.”
At a red light, he looked at her cheek and then quickly back at the road.
“Did he apologize?”
“No.”
“Did he call?”
“No.”
“Then why do you sound like you’re defending him?”
“I’m not.”
“You always do this with that family.”
“Do what?”
“Separate what they intended from what they did. You make them complicated so nobody has to be guilty.”
Mara turned toward the rain-smeared window.
Nico sighed. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No. I’m not.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
At the hospital, Elena’s contractions stopped. The doctor discharged her the following afternoon with instructions for reduced activity, monitoring, and immediate return if pain or bleeding began. Matteo wanted to take her to their apartment in Milan. Paolo insisted Villa Serafina was better staffed and closer to the private clinic.
Elena chose neither.
“I want a hotel,” she said.
Matteo stared at her. “A hotel?”
“Somewhere without family.”
“My father can stay away from the villa.”
“He owns it.”
“So do I.”
“Not in the way he does.”
Paolo stood by the door holding her discharge papers. “You are exhausted. This is not a useful discussion.”
Elena looked at him. “Leave.”
The room became very quiet.
Paolo handed the papers to Matteo.
“Elena,” Matteo said carefully.
“She asked him to leave,” the nurse said from behind the curtain.
Paolo’s face hardened almost imperceptibly. He nodded to Elena and walked out.
The nurse began folding a spare blanket.
“Do you feel safe going home with your husband?” she asked.
Matteo looked at her.
The nurse did not look back.
Elena’s answer took several seconds.
“I don’t know.”
Matteo stepped away from the bed as though she had pushed him.
The nurse asked whether she wanted to speak privately with a social worker. Elena nodded.
Matteo left the room.
In the corridor, Paolo waited beside the roses he had removed the day before. Their edges had begun to brown.
“What happened?” Paolo asked.
“She said she doesn’t know if she’s safe with me.”
Paolo’s eyes narrowed. “Because of Mara.”
“Because I hit Mara.”
“Under circumstances—”
“Stop saying that.”
A woman pushing a stroller passed them. The child inside kicked one red shoe against the footrest.
Matteo lowered his voice. “Did you take Elena’s phone yesterday?”
Paolo did not answer at once.
“She was distressed,” he said. “She had photographed confidential documents.”
“So you took it.”
“I asked for it.”
“Did she give it to you?”
“She became emotional.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only answer that matters. She was agitated before Mara arrived, and Mara made it worse.”
Matteo studied his father’s face.
“Where were you when I came into the hall?”
“Upstairs.”
“Carla heard you.”
Paolo’s mouth tightened. “Carla hears whatever protects her position.”
“Were you in the hall?”
“I left minutes before you arrived.”
“Why?”
“Because the conversation had become unproductive.”
“Elena ended up on the floor after you left?”
“I do not know when she fell.”
The sentence was too careful.
Matteo felt a slow coldness move beneath his skin.
“Did you see her fall?”
“No.”
“Did you touch her?”
“No.”
“Did you grab her?”
Paolo looked past him toward Elena’s room.
“You are tired,” he said. “And guilt is making you vulnerable to absurd suggestions.”
Matteo stepped into his father’s line of sight. “Did you grab her?”
“No.”
This time the answer came cleanly.
Matteo wanted to believe it. Belief had always been easier when Paolo became offended.
The social worker spoke with Elena for almost an hour. When she finished, Matteo was allowed back inside alone.
Elena sat upright against the pillows. Her face looked drawn, but her voice was steadier.
“I’m going to a serviced apartment the hospital uses for patients who need to remain nearby.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
He sat in the chair but kept his hands apart.
“Do you think I would hurt you?”
“I didn’t think you would hurt Mara.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
He lowered his gaze.
Elena touched the edge of the blanket with two fingers, smoothing a wrinkle and then smoothing it again.
“My father was in the hall,” Matteo said.
“Yes.”
“He says you were upset about the documents.”
“I was.”
“He says Mara made it worse.”
“She came because I asked her.”
“What happened after she arrived?”
Elena’s hand moved to her abdomen.
“Your father wanted my phone.”
“Why?”
“I photographed the pages he didn’t want me to send anyone.”
“He said they were confidential.”
“They concern my child.”
“Elena, I’m not defending him.”
“You keep repeating his reasons.”
Matteo rubbed his thumb against his palm. “Did he grab you?”
She looked at the hospital door.
“He took the phone.”
“How?”
“He held my wrist.”
Matteo stopped moving.
“Hard?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“It matters.”
“He blocked me when I tried to leave. Mara told him to step away. He said she was trespassing in a family matter.”
“What happened to put you on the floor?”
Elena’s breathing changed.
Matteo saw it and regretted the question, but not enough to withdraw it.
“I don’t know exactly,” she said. “He reached again. I moved back. Mara turned. Then everything was marble and noise.”
“Did he push you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mara touch you before you lost balance?”
“No.”
The word struck him with more force than any accusation.
He leaned back.
Elena watched his face. “She caught my shoulders. She hurt herself doing it.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
May you like
In the darkness behind his lids, Mara turned toward him with relief. That had been her first expression when he entered. Relief.
He had mistaken it for guilt only after he looked at Elena.
