Chapter 4
My mother had been dead twelve years.
Officially, Bianca Moretti died in a boating accident.
A storm.
Bad visibility.
Broken railing.
Thomas had told that story so many times I stopped hearing it.
I looked down at Ethan.
“What did you say?”
He pointed at Thomas.
“Grandpa said Grandma didn’t listen either.”
My father laughed too quickly.
“Children repeat nonsense.”
“When did he say it?”
Ethan thought.
“Yesterday.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
I noticed.
“What exactly did Grandpa say?”
Ethan copied Thomas’s deep tone badly.
“If Bianca had listened, she’d still be here.”
The terrace went silent.
Thomas’s face hardened.
I stared.
“You said that to my son?”
“He asked about the picture in your office.”
“You told him my mother died because she disobeyed you.”
“I told him stubborn people create consequences.”
There it was.
His religion.
Pain as discipline.
Death as consequence.
Never cruelty.
Never guilt.
I turned to Vanessa.
“Why did you react?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
She smiled.
“You see conspiracies everywhere when you’re angry.”
Marcus added:
“Maybe that’s why your father worries.”
I looked at him.
“You crawled under a table to steal a recording.”
His jaw tightened.
I opened another file.
Vanessa’s voice:
“She still believes Bianca fell from the boat.”
My breathing stopped.
Marcus:
“Why tell her now?”
Thomas answered:
“We don’t.”
Long pause.
“She learns after tonight, if she learns at all.”
I stopped the recording.
The terrace disappeared for one second.
Bianca fell from the boat.
Not died.
Fell.
That wording mattered.
I looked at Thomas.
He looked back.
No fear now.
Only calculation.
“Explain.”
He sighed.
“Your mother was unstable.”
“Explain.”
“She wanted to leave.”
“With me?”
Silence.
That was enough.
My mother had once tried to take me away from him.
Thomas continued:
“She believed family power was poisoning you.”
“She was right.”
His face hardened.
“She was weak.”
“No.”
“She cried whenever you were frightened.”
I almost laughed.
“You mean she cared.”
“She made you soft.”
“Then what happened on the boat?”
He stared.
I pressed play again.
The recording resumed.
Marcus:
“Bianca was easier.”
Thomas:
“She didn’t have Valentina’s guards.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Or her temper.”
Thomas:
“She still fought.”
I stopped it.
My father’s face finally changed.
Not guilt.
Annoyance.
May you like
Like I had opened a door he had spent twelve years keeping shut.
And suddenly Ethan’s near-drowning stopped looking like the first staged accident in our family.
