Chapter 13 - THE LIE ROMAN WANTED TO BELIEVE
Z
Vittorio called the following afternoon.
Not Roman.
Sadi.
She was sitting in Maria’s kitchen when her phone vibrated.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Normally, she would ignore it.
Something told her not to.
“Hello?”
“Sadi.”
She recognized Vittorio immediately.
Roman looked up from across the room.
His expression changed.
Sadi put the call on speaker.
“Vittorio.”
Elena went rigid.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vittorio sighed.
“I assume Roman has found his mother.”
Roman’s chair scraped.
“You knew.”
Vittorio chuckled softly.
“Of course I knew.”
Roman reached for the phone.
Sadi stopped him.
Her phone.
Her conversation.
She had learned boundaries from the best.
“Why are you calling me?” she asked.
“Because Roman is emotional.”
Roman looked offended.
Sadi ignored him.
“And I’m not?”
“You’re practical.”
“Clearly you don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
Vittorio’s voice became warmer.
“You changed my nephew.”
Sadi glanced at Roman.
“I don’t think Roman enjoys being discussed like a difficult renovation.”
“No. I imagine not.”
Roman leaned closer to the phone.
“Where are you?”
Vittorio ignored him.
“Sadi, Elena will tell you a beautiful story.”
Elena stood.
“Hang up.”
Sadi raised a hand.
“Let him talk.”
Vittorio continued.
“She will describe herself as the terrified mother fleeing a violent family.”
Elena’s face hardened.
“Some of that is even true.”
Roman spoke.
“You arranged her kidnapping.”
“So she says.”
“You robbed the family archives.”
“Did I?”
Sadi disliked the calmness.
“What do you want?”
“The same thing I have wanted for twenty-five years.”
“And that is?”
“For Roman to understand what his parents actually were.”
Roman’s mouth tightened.
Vittorio continued.
“Ask Elena why she hid the ledger instead of bringing it to the police.”
Sadi looked toward Elena.
Vittorio heard the silence.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
Elena’s voice shook.
“The police were compromised.”
“Some.”
Vittorio laughed.
“Not all.”
“Vittorio—”
“Ask her whose name appears beside mine in that ledger.”
Everyone froze.
Sadi’s heartbeat changed.
Roman looked at his mother.
Elena did not answer.
Vittorio continued.
“There it is.”
Roman stood slowly.
“Whose name?”
Elena closed her eyes.
Roman’s voice sharpened.
“Mother.”
She looked at him.
“Your father.”
Roman stared.
Vittorio laughed again.
Not happily.
Bitterly.
“Welcome to the family history.”
The call ended.
Nobody moved.
Roman looked at Elena.
“You said Father discovered the truth later.”
“He did.”
“You said Vittorio staged the attacks.”
“He did.”
“Then why was Father in the ledger?”
Elena stood.
“It isn’t simple.”
Roman’s face became almost blank.
Sadi recognized that expression.
The colder Roman became, the more badly he was hurting.
“Make it simple.”
Elena looked toward Maria.
Maria lowered her eyes.
That was enough.
Roman saw it.
“You knew too.”
Maria said nothing.
Roman laughed quietly.
“Of course.”
Sadi moved closer to him.
He stepped away.
Not from her specifically.
From everyone.
Elena spoke quickly.
“Your father funded Vittorio’s companies.”
“That isn’t what he said.”
“He didn’t know what the payments financed initially.”
“Initially.”
“Roman—”
“What happened afterward?”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“After he discovered what Vittorio was doing, he tried to take control.”
Roman stared.
“Control?”
“He thought he could use the conflict.”
There it was.
The ugly center.
Antonio Rossi had not created the staged war.
But once he discovered it, he did not stop it.
He exploited it.
Competitors weakened.
Properties changed hands.
Businesses grew.
Men died.
Roman’s father benefited.
Sadi watched something inside her husband break without a sound.
“My entire life,” Roman said quietly, “he told me the Morettis killed you because they knew you mattered.”
Elena began crying.
“I know.”
“He told me love made men weak.”
“I know.”
“And all that time…”
Roman’s voice failed.
Sadi touched his back.
This time he allowed it.
“He wasn’t protecting the family.”
“No.”
“He was protecting himself.”
“Yes.”
Roman walked outside.
Sadi followed after a minute.
He stood near Lake Michigan, hands inside his coat pockets.
Wind cut across the water.
“I wanted Vittorio innocent,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then I wanted him completely guilty.”
“I know.”
“Because that would make the story easier.”
Sadi stood beside him.
“One monster.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the gray lake.
“My father was cruel. Vittorio was worse. My mother lied. Everybody believed they were protecting something.”
Sadi said nothing.
Roman glanced at her.
“You always have something to say.”
“Trying something new.”
“It’s unsettling.”
She smiled slightly.
Roman did not.
After a moment, he said:
“What if I’m exactly like them?”
Sadi turned fully toward him.
“You’re not.”
“You don’t know everything I’ve done.”
“No.”
“I have killed people.”
Sadi’s stomach tightened.
Roman rarely said it directly.
She did not look away.
“I’ve ordered things that would make you hate me.”
“Maybe.”
His expression changed.
She continued.
“I’m not going to tell you everything you’ve done is okay because I love you.”
“That would be easier.”
“Probably.”
Sadi took his hand.
“But I know what you do when you have a choice now.”
Roman watched her.
“You gave the shooter at Chloe’s wedding to police.”
“He deserved worse.”
“Maybe.”
“You stopped retaliation after the museum fire.”
“I wanted to kill Vittorio.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Yet.”
“Roman.”
He exhaled.
Sadi squeezed his fingers.
“You are not defined by whether bad thoughts enter your head.”
She looked toward the house.
“You’re defined by what you choose after they arrive.”
Roman remained quiet.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message.
He looked.
His entire expression changed.
Sadi immediately knew.
“What?”
Roman handed her the phone.
A photograph.
Taken through glass.
Sadi recognized the room immediately.
Her conservation laboratory.
Margaret Bell sat tied to a chair.
Beside her was the Rossi painting.
The landscape.
The monastery.
Across the image, someone had written:
BRING ELENA.
MIDNIGHT.
NO POLICE.
Sadi felt cold spread through her.
Roman took the phone back.
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re staying here.”
She stared at him.
“We just had this conversation.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“He has Margaret.”
“He has my supervisor because of something I found.”
“He wants my mother.”
“And the painting.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
Sadi understood suddenly.
“Roman.”
“What?”
“The ledger.”
“What about it?”
“Vittorio thinks it’s still inside the painting.”
Roman went still.
Sadi’s mind raced.
“What if he’s right?”
“You opened it.”
“I opened one cavity.”
“There are others?”
“The wooden stretcher bars are hollow.”
Roman stared.
Sadi grabbed her coat.
“We need to get to the museum before midnight.”
Roman caught her wrist.
“No.”
Sadi looked down at his hand.
Then back up.
Roman released her.
Slowly.
She nodded.
“Better.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his expression hardened again.
“If you come, you follow instructions.”
“I will listen to reasonable instructions.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It’s the best offer you’re getting.”
Roman sighed.
“Marriage is extortion.”
“You proposed.”
“My first mistake.”
“Your first mistake was pretending you didn’t like me.”
Roman leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“My favorite mistake.”
Then Marco entered.
“Cars ready.”
Roman turned toward him.
“No army.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
“The message said no police.”
“Exactly.”
Sadi looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
Roman buttoned his coat.
“It means Vittorio expects criminals.”
May you like
A cold smile appeared.
“So we’re bringing accountants.”
