Chapter 4 - THE PERFECT PERSON TO BLAME
Nico wanted Roman removed from the estate immediately.
I argued against it.
Again.
This time he slammed one palm against his desk.
“He tampered with my daughter’s medication.”
“Then prove it.”
“I don’t need a jury.”
“That’s the problem.”
His eyes turned cold.
“You forget who I am.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I’m the only person in this house who apparently doesn’t.”
That stopped him.
“You remove Roman tonight, what happens?”
“He never enters this house again.”
“And every record he controls?”
Silence.
“Every security log?”
Silence.
“Every person loyal to him?”
Nico looked away.
I continued.
“You told me he’s been your security chief for eleven years.”
“He’s been my cousin for forty.”
“Then he knows what makes you angry.”
His gaze returned.
“He wants you angry.”
That was the part Nico hated.
Because it was true.
The lab report went to an outside attorney.
So did the inhaler.
Nico quietly replaced the medical-room locks.
Only three people received new access.
Nico.
Me.
Sofia’s pulmonologist.
Roman was told nothing.
We began watching.
Within forty-eight hours, somebody tried to enter the room using an old master code.
Security logs identified the attempt.
Roman’s credential.
Nico read the report.
“Enough.”
“Almost.”
He stared.
“What more do you need?”
“Why.”
That mattered.
Because frightening Sofia made no sense by itself.
Then Nico showed me the family trust.
I almost wished he hadn’t.
His late wife, Alessia, had inherited significant holdings in shipping terminals and commercial real estate.
When she died, the assets passed into trust for Sofia.
Nico served as trustee.
If Sofia reached eighteen, the shares became hers.
If she died before eighteen without descendants, a portion reverted to the Vitali Family Foundation.
Who chaired the foundation?
Roman.
I stared.
“How much?”
“Current value?”
“Yes.”
“About $240 million.”
My stomach turned.
“That gives him motive.”
“Money has never been Roman’s problem.”
“Control?”
Nico looked at me.
“Always.”
Then came something worse.
If Sofia were declared chronically incapacitated, the trust permitted appointment of a secondary family trustee.
Roman again.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“My grandfather wrote it.”
“Your family needs better lawyers.”
“For once, we agree.”
Nico had believed Roman loved Sofia.
Maybe he did.
People could love and still become monstrous when they convinced themselves control was care.
I knew something about that.
Daniel called the next day.
He wanted money.
Of course.
“I told Roman what you asked,” he said.
I stood.
“You what?”
“He called me.”
“Why are you still talking to him?”
“He offered ten thousand.”
I closed my eyes.
“For what?”
“To say you asked me how to get medication without prescriptions.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
I almost laughed.
My father wanted credit for declining to frame me after accepting money to deliver me into the house.
“Dad.”
“I need help.”
“You need treatment.”
“I need money.”
“No.”
“Clara—”
“No.”
Then he said something that frightened me.
“He already has paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“Something with your signature.”
I hung up and went directly to Nico.
We pulled my personnel file.
Nothing strange.
Then the medical room inventory.
One form showed I had signed for a controlled sedative three weeks earlier.
I had never seen the form.
The signature looked nearly perfect.
Nico’s face hardened.
“He’s building a case.”
“Yes.”
“If Sofia dies—”
“I’m the medical aide who tampered with medication.”
“You go to prison.”
“And Roman becomes the grieving uncle who warned everyone about the outsider.”
Nico stared at the file.
“This was the plan before you entered my house.”
“Probably.”
“He used Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Then used me to hire you.”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
Shame.
That surprised me.
“He knew I’d want someone with your background.”
“You couldn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“You’re doing that thing powerful men do.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Taking responsibility for other people’s crimes because it lets you pretend you could have controlled everything.”
He stared.
“That sounds like criticism.”
“It is.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“Criticizing my father is my job.”
Sofia.
She stood holding her rabbit.
Nico’s face softened instantly.
“Bed.”
“No.”
I hid a smile.
Sofia looked at me.
“Birthday dress came.”
“What birthday dress?”
“My birthday.”
I remembered.
Eight days away.
Nico had planned an enormous garden celebration months ago.
Sofia would turn eight.
“How many people?”
“Too many,” she said.
Nico replied, “Forty.”
“Too many.”
I agreed.
Sofia smiled.
Then whispered:
“Uncle Roman says birthdays change everything.”
Nico and I both froze.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“He said after my birthday Dad won’t have to worry anymore.”
Nico’s face went still.
“Where did he tell you that?”
“In the car.”
“What car?”
“His.”
Nico turned toward me.
Roman was still transporting Sofia occasionally.
Before the medication suspicion.
Before the locks changed.
I crouched.
“What else did Uncle Roman say?”
Sofia thought.
“He said I should enjoy my white dress because sometimes princesses only get one big party.”
My skin went cold.
Nico stood.
“Birthday canceled.”
Sofia’s face collapsed.
“No!”
I looked at him.
“Nico.”
“No.”
“He wants you to cancel.”
“What?”
“If Roman is planning something, suddenly changing everything tells him we know.”
“You want me to use my daughter as bait?”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“I want you to move the party somewhere controlled, cut the guest list, bring outside security, and never let Sofia out of your sight.”
“I’m canceling.”
Sofia screamed.
“NO!”
Then ran upstairs.
Nico closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
“You can protect her without making fear decide everything.”
His eyes opened.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“It isn’t.”
My father had controlled our lives with his debts.
Fear had decided where I lived, what I studied, which bills got paid.
I understood.
“The party doesn’t have to happen.”
I lowered my voice.
“But Sofia deserves to know it’s because she chooses, not because Roman scared you.”
That evening, Nico talked to her.
Actually talked.
No orders.
They decided together.
Small birthday.
Twenty guests.
Inside the mansion instead of the garden.
Outside security firm.
No Roman.
Sofia chose the white dress anyway.
Two days before the party, Roman disappeared.
His office was empty.
His phone off.
Bank accounts untouched.
That scared Nico more than if the money had vanished.
Then the outside security team found something inside the ballroom wall.
A tiny wireless camera.
Pointed directly at the place where Sofia’s cake would stand.
The device had been transmitting for three weeks.
May you like
Someone knew exactly where she would be when the candles were lit.
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