Chapter 2
Matteo didn't touch Adrian.
That frightened him more.
He simply looked at him.
Then at Celeste.
“Inside.”
The rehearsal ended without anyone officially ending it.
Guests were moved into the main ballroom.
Bodyguards closed the terrace doors.
The wet wedding dress was carried upstairs by two women Matteo trusted.
The letter came with us.
Celeste complained the entire way.
“This is humiliating.”
Matteo kept walking.
She followed.
“You're stopping your own wedding rehearsal because a dead woman wrote a melodramatic letter?”
Nothing.
Celeste turned to me.
“Your mother always knew how to make herself the center of a room.”
I stopped.
“So did you.”
Her smile thinned.
We entered Matteo's private study.
Adrian stood beside the fireplace.
Celeste sat without being asked.
I remained standing.
Matteo placed my mother's letter on the desk.
“Daniel Russo died eighteen years ago.”
Celeste sighed.
“Yes. Tragic. People die.”
My fingernails dug into my palm.
She noticed.
“Still sensitive?”
Her voice softened falsely.
“Oh, Sofia. He died when you were twelve. At some point grief becomes a choice.”
Matteo's eyes hardened.
Celeste didn't care.
That was her gift.
She could walk directly toward disgust and mistake it for strength.
Matteo looked at Adrian.
“Where were you the night Daniel died?”
Adrian shrugged.
“Here.”
“Where?”
“No idea.”
“You were twenty-four.”
“Exactly. I had better things to remember.”
I looked at him.
“My mother says you were inside the west stairwell.”
Adrian smiled.
“Your mother said many things after Daniel died.”
“What does that mean?”
“She needed someone to blame.”
Celeste added:
“Lucia never accepted that her husband got himself killed.”
My throat tightened.
Celeste leaned back.
“Daniel was warned not to interfere in business above him. He ignored that warning. Actions have consequences.”
There it was.
Not denial.
Blame.
Matteo heard it too.
“What business?”
Celeste looked at him.
“Old business.”
“Be specific.”
“No.”
Matteo stared.
Celeste smiled.
“You're thirty-five years old. Don't pout because your aunt won't tell you bedtime stories.”
Matteo's face didn't move.
“Adrian.”
His cousin crossed his arms.
“Daniel followed men he shouldn't have followed.”
“Who?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to Sofia.”
Adrian looked at me.
That ugly little smile again.
“Sofia's mother filled her head with ghosts. Now you want to marry one.”
I stepped toward him.
Matteo lifted one hand.
Not to stop me forever.
Just then.
He looked at the letter again.
“What happened in the west stairwell?”
Celeste sighed.
“Nothing.”
Matteo waited.
She rolled her eyes.
“Daniel was brought through there after the shooting. Happy?”
Nobody had said Daniel was brought there.
My mother had only written that Adrian was already inside the stairwell when he arrived bleeding.
Matteo's eyes lifted.
I felt the same realization.
Celeste kept talking.
“He was barely conscious. Lucia made a spectacle. She always made everything—”
Matteo interrupted.
“How do you know he was barely conscious?”
Celeste stopped.
Adrian looked at her.
She recovered quickly.
“Everyone knew.”
“No.”
Matteo's voice stayed calm.
“The official story in this family was that Daniel died before he reached the estate.”
Celeste said nothing.
I couldn't breathe.
All my childhood, that was the story.
My father had been shot near the river.
He died before anyone could bring him home.
My mother had never corrected it.
Maybe because she was afraid.
Maybe because no one would believe her.
Maybe because Celeste had been standing too close.
I looked at Adrian.
“Was my father alive when he got here?”
No answer.
“Was he?”
Adrian's mouth tightened.
“He was dying.”
My eyes burned.
“And you were there.”
“He should have minded his own business.”
The sentence came too easily.
I stared.
Adrian shrugged.
“Men like your father always think loyalty means they get to ask questions.”
Matteo's expression changed.
“What question did Daniel ask?”
Adrian looked at Celeste.
That was his mistake.
Celeste snapped:
“Don't.”
Matteo saw it.
I saw it.
Adrian realized too late.
He tried to recover.
“Nothing.”
Matteo leaned forward.
“Daniel saw something.”
Silence.
“He confronted you.”
Nothing.
“And whatever he saw got him killed.”
Celeste laughed.
“Sofia, are you enjoying this? Digging up your father so you can watch him die twice?”
I flinched.
She smiled.
Then Matteo spoke.
“One more comment about her father.”
Celeste turned.
His face was completely calm.
“You'll spend the rest of this conversation standing.”
Celeste stared at him.
Then slowly sat back.
Defiance dressed as dignity.
Adrian muttered:
“She learned weakness from Lucia.”
I looked at him.
“You keep insulting my mother.”
“She isn't here to complain.”
“No.”
I held up the letter.
“But apparently she was smart enough to scare both of you from the grave.”
Adrian moved toward me.
Matteo stood.
Adrian stopped.
The room went quiet.
Then Matteo looked at Celeste.
“One question.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“If Daniel died before reaching the estate…”
Pause.
“…how did you know exactly where he took his last breath?”
Celeste went still.
That was the first time I realized something worse than the letter existed.
May you like
A memory.
One Celeste had spent eighteen years pretending she didn't have.
