Chapter 4 - THE GODFATHER’S GIFT
I turned slowly toward Carlo.
He stood behind me.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then he raised both hands.
“Alessandro.”
“You gave Sofia the music box.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Why?”
“It was Christmas.”
“She’s a maid’s daughter.”
Carlo looked offended.
“She’s a child.”
That answer would normally have satisfied me.
Not anymore.
“Where did you buy it?”
“A shop near Brera.”
“Name.”
“I don’t remember.”
I motioned to two guards.
“Keep him here.”
Carlo’s face changed.
“You’re detaining me?”
“I’m keeping everyone alive.”
We went to the servants’ cottage.
Sofia’s room was small.
Pink blanket.
Wooden bed.
Crayons.
The music box sat on a dresser.
White porcelain.
Tiny ballerina.
I stopped at the doorway.
Nobody touched it.
The bomb specialist used remote equipment.
Inside the music box was not an explosive.
It was a transmitter.
A microphone.
Someone had been listening to Elena.
And Sofia.
For days.
Elena stared at it.
“Why?”
I knew.
“Because Marco was talking to you.”
Her face tightened.
“He spoke to me twice.”
“About what?”
“He asked which doors I cleaned at night. Which servants left after dinner. Whether Sofia slept in my room.”
My anger rose.
“You didn’t think that was strange?”
“He supervised security.”
Fair.
He had used authority exactly as traitors always do—making suspicious questions look routine.
The technician removed the device.
“Boss, there’s a serial number.”
“Trace it.”
Twenty minutes later, we had an answer.
The transmitter belonged to a private security supplier.
Purchased six months earlier.
Account holder:
Ventresca Holdings.
Carlo.
I returned to the interrogation floor.
Carlo remained where I left him.
Marco sat behind glass.
When I entered, Marco looked at my face and understood.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know.”
“I know Carlo bought the transmitter.”
Carlo snapped, “That proves nothing.”
Marco laughed.
“Still doing that, Uncle?”
Carlo’s face hardened.
I looked between them.
“You two have been working together.”
Marco said nothing.
Carlo did.
“No.”
Marco laughed again.
This time bitterly.
“Tell him.”
Carlo turned toward him.
“Be quiet.”
“You wanted me angry enough to betray him. Congratulations.”
My skin prickled.
Marco leaned back.
“Carlo told me the truth about my father when I was twenty-one.”
I looked at Carlo.
“You said my father told him.”
“I said Marco learned.”
“You let me assume Salvatore told him.”
Carlo’s jaw tightened.
Marco continued.
“Carlo showed me letters.”
“What letters?”
“From my mother.”
His voice changed when he said it.
Pain.
“My mother begged Salvatore to acknowledge me. He refused.”
Carlo interrupted.
“That is true.”
Marco looked at him.
“Some were.”
Silence.
I understood.
“Forged?”
Marco nodded slowly.
“I learned two months ago.”
Elena whispered, “How?”
“My mother’s handwriting.”
He looked at me.
“I kept one real letter. Compared it to Carlo’s copies.”
Carlo stood.
“This is absurd.”
I pointed at the chair.
“Sit.”
He didn’t.
Two guards pushed him down.
Marco continued.
“I started investigating Carlo.”
“And instead of telling me, you planned to kill me?”
His face tightened.
“I didn’t plan to kill you.”
“The gas says otherwise.”
“I installed the cylinder.”
Elena stared.
Marco nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Carlo demanded proof I was committed.”
“You could have come to me.”
“I didn’t know if you were part of it.”
That hurt.
“Part of what?”
“My father’s death.”
I stared.
Marco’s eyes filled with years of resentment.
“Carlo told me you knew Salvatore intended to recognize me. He said you confronted him that night. He said your argument caused his heart attack.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the lie was so perfectly designed.
“I wasn’t home that night.”
Marco froze.
“I was in Rome.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“My father died before my plane landed.”
Carlo said quietly, “Records can be altered.”
I looked at him.
“Mine weren’t.”
Marco’s face slowly changed.
He had built fifteen years of hatred around a false memory someone else gave him.
“Then why did Carlo say—”
“Because he wanted us divided.”
Elena whispered.
Everyone looked at her.
She stood beside the glass.
“Two brothers who trust each other are stronger than one man controlling both.”
Carlo smiled coldly.
“Do not pretend you understand this family.”
Elena looked at him.
“I understand men who think poor people are too stupid to notice them.”
That silenced him.
I almost smiled.
Then Marco leaned forward.
“The gas was never connected to the ventilation.”
The technician’s report contradicted him.
“Yes, it was.”
“I installed a bypass.”
“What?”
“At 11:55, it would vent outside.”
I stared.
“You expected me to believe I was about to die.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To force Carlo to move.”
My anger sharpened.
“You used my house as bait.”
“Yes.”
“You involved Elena.”
“I tried to keep her out.”
“You threatened her.”
Marco’s face broke slightly.
“I told her Carlo had people watching. I said if she repeated anything, Sofia could get hurt.”
Elena stared.
“That is not what you said.”
“I know.”
“You said you would make sure we disappeared.”
“I needed you scared enough to obey.”
She stepped closer to the glass.
“Then you became exactly like him.”
Marco looked down.
That landed.
I understood something unpleasant.
Marco might not have intended to kill me.
But betrayal was still betrayal.
He had manipulated my staff.
Threatened a mother.
Installed a chemical device in my home.
Whatever his reasons, he had crossed lines.
Then the technician entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We traced the transmitter.”
“To Carlo’s company.”
“Yes. But there’s more.”
He placed a purchase record on the table.
The order had been signed electronically by someone inside Ventresca Holdings.
Not Carlo.
His executive assistant.
A woman named Isabella Conti.
Marco stood so fast the chair fell.
“That’s impossible.”
I looked at him.
“Your mother?”
“She died twenty-seven years ago.”
The technician shook his head.
“Someone using her name has been receiving payments for six years.”
Carlo closed his eyes.
That was the first truly guilty reaction I had seen.
Marco crossed the room and slammed both palms onto the glass.
“Who is it?”
Carlo said nothing.
“WHO IS USING MY MOTHER’S NAME?”
Carlo looked at him.
Then at me.
Finally, he smiled.
“Your father’s greatest secret was never you, Marco.”
My stomach tightened.
May you like
Carlo leaned back.
“It was the woman he refused to bury.”
