Chapter 9
Vittorio’s voice entered the room with no warning.
“Father, leave Lucia alone.”
Giulietta closed her eyes.
Alessandro answered.
“You have become weak.”
“No.”
“You let your wife question family business.”
“She is usually right.”
Cesare looked up.
That surprised him.
It surprised Giulietta too.
Her father had defended Lucia.
At least here.
Alessandro:
“She is helping Margaret Hale.”
“Yes.”
“She is hiding Warren’s wife.”
“Yes.”
“And you allow it?”
Vittorio’s voice hardened.
“I allow my wife to decide who enters her house.”
Giulietta felt something painful and warm at once.
Not absolution.
A piece of the father she remembered.
Then Alessandro:
“Samuel says Lucia has recordings.”
“She does.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Destroy them.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then Alessandro laughed.
“You think evidence makes you moral.”
Vittorio:
“No.”
“I think Father being afraid of a woman’s voice makes him smaller than I thought.”
Cesare almost smiled.
Giulietta did not.
The recording continued.
Alessandro:
“You benefited from Samuel.”
Vittorio:
“I did.”
There it was.
Her father’s guilt.
No hiding.
“The war strengthened us.”
“Yes.”
“You took routes.”
“Yes.”
“Then do not pretend purity because Lucia makes you ashamed.”
Silence.
Vittorio finally answered:
“I am ashamed.”
Giulietta’s throat tightened.
Alessandro:
“That won’t bring men back.”
“No.”
“What will?”
“Ending it.”
“Too late.”
“Then too late begins tonight.”
The tape crackled.
Samuel entered the room.
His voice:
“Lucia is moving.”
Vittorio:
“Where?”
Samuel:
“Lake Belladonna.”
A pause.
Alessandro:
“Good.”
Vittorio:
“What did you do?”
Silence.
Then chairs moving.
Vittorio:
“Father.”
Alessandro:
“I arranged a conversation.”
Vittorio:
“With who?”
“Lucia.”
“Margaret.”
“And you.”
Vittorio:
“Giulietta is there.”
Giulietta froze.
She had always been told she spent that night at Cesare’s house.
Cesare looked at her.
“No.”
She stared.
“What?”
“I picked you up earlier.”
“From where?”
“Lake Belladonna.”
Her memory shifted.
Smoke.
A car.
Her mother kissing her forehead.
Cesare carrying her.
She had been there.
Eight years old.
Why had she forgotten?
Because adults told another story often enough.
The recording continued.
Vittorio:
“You put my daughter there?”
Alessandro:
“She is leverage.”
Giulietta felt nausea.
Her own grandfather had used her.
Vittorio’s voice became murderous.
“If you touch my child—”
Alessandro laughed.
“There’s my son.”
“You needed love to sound like threat before you recognized it.”
Giulietta almost broke the machine.
Preston watched her.
Not pity.
Recognition.
His father had used love similarly.
The tape continued.
Samuel:
“Lucia already moved Giulietta.”
Vittorio:
“With who?”
Samuel:
“Cesare.”
Vittorio exhaled.
Good.
Then Alessandro:
“Lucia stays.”
Vittorio:
“No.”
“Choose.”
“What?”
“Your wife walks away with Margaret, and Samuel tells every capo you lost control.”
“Or Lucia returns and the war ends on our terms.”
Vittorio:
“You think the family will turn on me.”
Alessandro:
“I know they will.”
Giulietta listened to silence.
The choice.
Wife or power.
Vittorio finally said:
“I choose Lucia.”
Cesare closed his eyes.
Giulietta could not breathe.
Her father chose her mother.
Alessandro whispered:
“Then you are no longer my heir.”
Vittorio answered:
“Good.”
The tape cut.
Giulietta stared at nothing.
Everything she believed about that night shifted again.
Her father had benefited from corruption.
Then tried to stop it.
Too late.
But tried.
Warren spoke softly.
“Vittorio came to the lake house.”
Giulietta looked at him.
“You were there?”
“No.”
“How know?”
“Margaret told me.”
Preston stared.
“You saw Mom after she left.”
Warren nodded.
“When?”
“Years later.”
Silence.
“Where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“What happened?”
“She put a knife against my throat.”
Preston almost laughed.
“That sounds fair.”
Warren looked at him.
“It was.”
Giulietta stepped closer.
“What did Margaret say about the lake house?”
“That Lucia escaped with Cesare.”
“We know.”
“That Alessandro ordered Samuel to stop her.”
Giulietta’s face hardened.
“And?”
“Samuel followed.”
Cesare frowned.
“I never saw him.”
“Because Margaret intercepted him.”
Silence.
“Margaret attacked Samuel?”
“Yes.”
“Did she kill him?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Samuel disappeared.”
Giulietta thought.
The body inside the fire.
Burned beyond recognition.
Could it have been Samuel?
Warren saw her expression.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I met Samuel six years later.”
Giulietta stopped.
“Alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then whose body?”
Warren looked at Cesare.
He did not know.
Preston whispered:
“My mother?”
“No,” Warren said.
Too quickly.
Giulietta turned.
“You know.”
Warren closed his eyes.
“The body was Margaret’s sister.”
Silence.
Preston stared.
“I had an aunt?”
“Eleanor.”
“Why was she there?”
“Margaret needed a body similar enough.”
Preston stepped backward.
“She used her sister?”
Warren shook his head.
“Eleanor was already dead.”
“How?”
Warren’s face became hard.
“Samuel.”
The room darkened in a different way.
Margaret had used her murdered sister’s body to fake Lucia’s death.
A terrible choice.
Maybe the only one she believed she had.
Giulietta looked toward the old objects in the iron room.
No heroes.
Only people trying not to become the worst version of their fear.
Then Lorenzo’s phone rang upstairs.
He answered.
Minutes later he came down.
“Donna.”
“What?”
“Cesare’s house was entered.”
Cesare turned.
“What was taken?”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
“A woman was waiting inside.”
Giulietta stared.
May you like
“Who?”
“She told the guards her name is Margaret Hale.”
