Chapter 7 - THE TICKETS TO PALERMO
Matteo stared at the two plane tickets in Lucia’s hand.
“Palermo?” Matteo breathed, his confident posture finally breaking. “Sophia, you don't understand what you're doing. The commission—”
“The commission doesn't know about me,” I interrupted, stepping away from him. “Because for seven years, you made sure I was nothing but a silent, smiling wife. You kept me in the shadows to protect yourself. But the shadows gave me time to work.”
I turned to Bianca. She was still leaning against the doorframe, trembling slightly. The revelation of her father’s unsanctioned hit had completely stripped her of her power.
“You can leave now, Bianca,” I said calmly.
Bianca glared at me, her eyes filled with venom. “You think you’ve won? If my family goes down, I’m taking the Morettis with me.”
“You have nothing to take,” Lucia said without looking up from the tickets. “My husband’s confession is in my hand. If you say one word about this family, I will hand this paper over to the commission myself. You and your father will be hunted like dogs. Now get out of my house.”
Bianca looked at Matteo one last time. He didn't even acknowledge her.
She turned and fled, her heels clicking frantically against the marble floor of the hallway. The heavy front door slammed shut a moment later.
The dining room was dead silent again. The twenty-four relatives were frozen in their seats, watching a quiet baker’s granddaughter dismantle their boss.
Matteo ran a hand over his face. “Sophia. Please. We can fix this.”
“There is no fixing this,” I said. I pointed to the silver rosary in my hand. “You gave this to a woman who mocked my father's death. You lied to me about how we met. Our entire marriage is built on blood money.”
“I kept you safe!” he shouted, stepping toward me.
“You kept me prisoner!” I shouted back.
Lucia cleared her throat. She looked from the tickets to me.
“Two tickets,” Lucia said softly. “One for you. Who is the other for?”
Matteo looked at the tickets, his brow furrowing. “Your mother passed away five years ago. Who are you taking to Palermo?”
I didn't answer him. I looked directly at Lucia.
The old woman’s eyes searched mine. Slowly, a profound understanding washed over her wrinkled face. She looked down at the tickets again, then back at me.
“You found it,” Lucia whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
“I did,” I replied.
Matteo looked between us, frantic. “Found what? The accounts? Sophia, if you have the coordinates, you have to give them to me. The family needs—”
“The family needs nothing from her,” Lucia snapped. She folded the tickets and placed them carefully into her cardigan pocket.
Then, the eighty-two-year-old matriarch of the Moretti family stood up and smoothed her skirt. She looked around the table at her stunned relatives.
“Dinner is over,” Lucia announced. “Everyone, go home.”
No one argued. Chairs scraped against the floor as cousins and uncles quietly filed out of the room, leaving only me, Matteo, and Lucia.
Matteo stared at his grandmother in disbelief. “Nonna, what are you doing?”
Lucia walked past him and stood beside me. She linked her arm through mine.
“I am going upstairs to pack my bags,” Lucia said, looking at her grandson with cold finality. “Because my granddaughter-in-law and I have a flight to catch.”
May you like
Matteo’s face went completely pale. “You’re leaving with her?”
“I am.” Lucia turned to me. “But before we go, Sophia, there is something you need to see. Something Matteo has been hiding in his office.”
