Chapter 6 - THE CONFESSION IN THE WATCH
Bianca’s face drained of blood. “A confession? Give me that.”
She lunged for the paper, but Matteo caught her wrist, twisting it just enough to make her gasp. He shoved her back toward the doorway. “Don't touch my grandmother.”
Lucia didn't even blink. She held the small parchment up to the light of the chandelier. The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but the Moretti seal at the bottom was unmistakable.
“Antonio kept meticulous records,” Lucia said, her voice echoing in the silent dining room. “He never trusted anyone, especially not a hitman.”
She looked directly at Bianca.
“This paper says that your father, Vincenzo Romano, approached my husband thirty years ago. Vincenzo demanded a seat at the commission. When Antonio refused, Vincenzo offered him a gift to prove his loyalty.”
I felt a cold dread pooling in my stomach. “A gift?” I whispered.
Lucia looked at me with deep sorrow. “Vincenzo offered to eliminate the carpenter who was causing the Moretti family trouble. Antonio didn't order the hit on your father, Sophia. Bianca’s father did it on his own, to curry favor.”
Bianca shook her head wildly. “No! That’s a lie! Your grandfather gave us that watch to keep us quiet!”
“He gave you the watch to keep you in line,” Matteo corrected, his voice dangerously calm. He let go of Bianca’s wrist. “He kept the confession inside it so that if your family ever tried to move against us, we could prove Vincenzo acted unsanctioned. The commission would have executed your entire bloodline.”
Bianca stumbled backward, bumping against the doorframe. “You’re making this up. You’re just trying to protect her.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Matteo said. He turned to me. “Sophia, I swear to you. I didn’t know this until tonight. I thought my grandfather ordered the hit. I thought I was carrying his sin. That’s why I let Bianca into our home. She threatened to expose my grandfather, which would have destroyed the family. I was trying to buy time to find the Palermo accounts to pay her off.”
I stood there, the silver rosary heavy in my hand.
My father’s murderer wasn't the Moretti patriarch. It was Bianca’s father. And Matteo had brought this woman into my home, sat her at my table, and let her humiliate me, all to protect a family legacy built on lies.
“You let her wear my father’s rosary,” I said, my voice eerily calm.
“She demanded it,” Matteo pleaded. “She knew it was a clue to the accounts. I gave it to her to keep her satisfied until I could figure out the coordinates.”
“And you told her I was leaving you,” I added, remembering Lucia’s words from earlier. “You told Nonna I was abandoning the family.”
Matteo swallowed hard. “I had to give Nonna a reason for why you were spending so much time at the bakery, looking through your grandfather’s things. I had to make it look like our marriage was failing so Bianca would think she was winning.”
“You didn’t have to make it look like anything,” I said.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, folded envelope.
Matteo’s eyes widened. “Sophia, what is that?”
“You spent seven years trying to find the Palermo accounts to save your family,” I said, looking at the man I no longer recognized. “But you forgot one thing about me, Matteo.”
I handed the envelope to Lucia.
“I didn’t just learn Italian to speak to your grandmother,” I said. “I learned it to read my grandfather’s letters.”
Lucia opened the envelope and pulled out two first-class plane tickets.
May you like
Both were for Palermo. Both departed tonight.
And neither of them had Matteo’s name on it.
