Chapter 6
I brought Rafael and Martin to the estate before sunrise.
They expected a council meeting.
They found Teresa at the breakfast table.
That frightened them.
Good.
My mother wore clean clothes now.
No apron.
I had ordered every staff member in the house to understand that detail.
She sat.
Other people served.
Rafael saw the black phone beside my hand.
His face changed.
Martin recovered faster.
“Gianluca.”
I played the recording.
Neither man interrupted.
When it ended, Rafael sighed.
“This sounds worse than it was.”
I almost smiled.
A favorite sentence among guilty men.
“How was it?”
“We wanted balance.”
“Explain balance.”
“You’ve centralized every important decision.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother influences you.”
“Yes.”
He frowned.
I leaned back.
“You expected me to deny that?”
Teresa raised me.
Buried my father.
Kept three generations of Serrano men from killing one another over pride.
Of course she influenced me.
Rafael continued.
“Celina said Teresa was becoming possessive.”
My mother laughed.
A dry, exhausted sound.
Everyone looked at her.
“Possessive?”
Rafael shifted.
Teresa continued.
“I begged your wife to feed her own children.”
Silence.
Martin looked at Celina.
“You said nobody was being hurt.”
There.
The fracture.
Celina stared.
“You knew the plan.”
“Not this.”
Martin pointed toward Teresa’s bruises.
“You said discomfort.”
I stood slowly.
“Discomfort.”
Nobody moved.
“What did you think that meant?”
Martin swallowed.
“Pressure.”
“On a seventy-five-year-old woman.”
He looked down.
Rafael remained harder.
“We never told Celina to starve anyone.”
I nodded.
“I believe you.”
That surprised him.
Then I continued.
“You simply created a goal and decided not to ask how she reached it.”
His face tightened.
Different responsibility.
Still responsibility.
Celina finally spoke.
“They’re cowards.”
I looked at her.
“And you?”
Her eyes sharpened.
“I did what they wouldn’t.”
There she was.
May you like
Proud.
For the first time that night, completely honest.
