Chapter 6 - VERONICA CHOOSES A SIDEVeronica arrived in Malta the next morning.
She stepped off the plane wearing black trousers, no makeup, and the same red anger she had carried through most of her life.
But now it had a target other than Alessia.
“Where is my mother?”
“We don’t know,” Valerio said.
“Where is Bianca?”
“We don’t know.”
Veronica turned on Alessia.
“You told me you had something.”
“I have a message.”
“Then show me.”
Alessia handed her the phone.
Veronica watched Lorenzo’s recording.
By the end, her face was white.
“My mother wouldn’t hurt Bianca.”
Alessia said nothing.
“She wouldn’t.”
Valerio asked:
“Did you think she would kidnap Camille?”
Veronica looked at him.
“She didn’t—”
“She did.”
Alessia’s voice stayed flat.
Camille had identified Lucia.
Veronica sank into a chair.
For several seconds she looked younger.
Not elegant.
Not vicious.
Just lost.
“My whole life,” she whispered, “she told me family was everything.”
Alessia looked at her.
“Sometimes people say that when they mean obedience.”
Veronica looked up.
The words hit.
Because she knew.
“How do we find Bianca?”
Alessia opened the account files.
“Money.”
“What?”
“Your mother has been moving money through Malta for years. If she needs to disappear with Bianca, she needs liquidity.”
Valerio nodded.
“Track the latest withdrawals.”
They found one.
Two million euros withdrawn through a private intermediary.
Location:
Gozo.
A smaller island north of Malta.
They went immediately.
On the drive, Veronica sat beside Alessia.
Silence between them.
Finally:
“I’m sorry.”
Alessia looked over.
“For?”
“You know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Veronica’s jaw tightened.
Then she forced herself.
“For pulling the chair.”
“And?”
“For saying you were exaggerating.”
“And?”
Veronica glared.
Alessia waited.
“For trying to drag you up when you were injured.”
“And?”
“God, Alessia.”
“And?”
“For treating you like you were competing with me for Valerio.”
Alessia looked ahead.
“Were you?”
Veronica asked.
“That isn’t relevant.”
“That means yes.”
Valerio, in the front passenger seat, said:
“Do not start.”
Both women answered:
“Stay out of it.”
Enzo coughed to hide a laugh.
For a moment, absurdly, the tension broke.
Then Veronica became serious.
“I thought if I embarrassed you, you’d stop being near him.”
“That nearly damaged a nerve permanently.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get forgiveness because you’re scared now.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised Alessia.
Veronica continued:
“I’ll accept whatever happens legally.”
Alessia studied her.
“Even charges?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Bianca needs me to become someone she can trust.”
For the first time, Alessia believed she might.
They found the rental villa before sunset.
Empty.
But recently occupied.
Bianca’s scarf on a chair.
Marco’s watch on the floor.
Blood.
Small amount.
Valerio crouched.
“Not enough to indicate severe injury.”
Veronica looked sick.
“Whose?”
Enzo checked.
“Unknown.”
Then Alessia noticed the wall.
A photograph pinned there.
Her father.
Antonio.
Beside him:
Lucia.
Young.
Much younger.
Holding hands.
Alessia stared.
Veronica saw it.
“What is that?”
Alessia removed the photo.
On the back:
SUMMER 1995.
Veronica went still.
“That was before my mother married Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Your father and my mother…”
“Apparently.”
Another photo.
Antonio.
Lucia.
A baby.
No date.
Veronica’s hand shook.
“Who is the baby?”
Alessia stared.
Then looked at Veronica.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
Veronica understood before she said it.
“Me?”
They searched the villa.
Found a folder.
Birth certificate.
VERONICA LUCIA ROMANO.
Father listed as Salvatore Romano.
But behind it was an older unsigned hospital record.
Father:
Antonio Romano.
Alessia’s father.
Veronica sat down hard.
“I’m your sister.”
Half-sister.
Alessia couldn’t speak.
Every insult.
Every rivalry.
Every family dinner.
Veronica had spent her life competing with the daughter of the man who was secretly her own father.
Lucia had hidden it.
Salvatore had raised Veronica as his daughter.
Did he know?
Maybe.
Maybe that explained his resentment toward Antonio.
Maybe that explained why he joined the financial conspiracy after Antonio died.
The family history had just become even uglier.
Then a phone rang upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Not theirs.
They followed the sound.
Inside a drawer:
Bianca’s phone.
A new text appeared.
MOTHER SAYS SHE’LL TRADE ME FOR THE LEDGER.
Veronica grabbed the phone.
Another message.
SHE THINKS YOU DON’T KNOW I HAVE THIS PHONE.
Then:
DON’T TRUST MARCO.
Veronica’s eyes widened.
“My brother-in-law?”
Alessia read it again.
Marco Bellini.
The groom.
The man standing beside Bianca when Alessia fell.
The man who had barely reacted.
Valerio called Enzo.
“Run Marco.”
Enzo did.
Financials.
Travel.
Phone.
Then he swore.
“What?”
“Marco received seven million from a Malta account two weeks before the wedding.”
Veronica whispered:
“He married Bianca for this.”
Alessia’s stomach dropped.
The wedding had never been only a celebration.
It had been an operation.
The chair.
The missing assistant.
The honeymoon that never happened.
May you like
Everything connected.
And Bianca had walked into the ceremony wearing white while the man beside her had already sold her to her own mother.
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