Chapter 13 - LORENZO’S SISTER CAME TO THE GATELucia Carbone did not look like Lorenzo.
That disappointed Nora for reasons she could not explain.
She had expected the same gray eyes.
The same severe Moretti jaw.
Instead Lucia was small.
Dark-eyed.
Silver beginning to show through thick black hair.
She wore no jewelry except a plain wedding band.
And when Matteo asked whether she wanted security to carry her suitcase, she replied:
“I’m here to talk to my father, not move in.”
Lorenzo heard.
His expression changed.
Lucia entered the library and saw Giovanni.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then she laughed softly.
“So.”
Giovanni stared.
“The great Giovanni Moretti.”
His finger trembled.
Lucia stepped closer.
“You look smaller than I remember.”
Nora felt Lorenzo tense beside her.
Giovanni typed:
YOU REMEMBER ME?
“I remember a man who came to my seventh birthday.”
Giovanni stopped.
Lucia continued.
“You brought a red bicycle.”
His eyes filled.
“I remember my mother crying after you left.”
Giovanni typed:
I AM SORRY.
Lucia's expression became cold.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't get to start there.”
Lorenzo looked at Nora.
Nora looked away.
Lucia placed a folder on the table.
“My mother died when I was eleven.”
Giovanni’s eyes lowered.
“The police called it a highway accident.”
Silence.
“She had spent four years moving us from city to city.”
Lucia leaned closer.
“Every time I asked why, she said there were bad men looking for us.”
Giovanni typed:
THERE WERE.
“You?”
Two movements.
No.
“Your enemies?”
Yes.
Lucia laughed bitterly.
“That distinction probably matters more to you than it did to an eleven-year-old girl.”
Giovanni had no answer.
She opened the folder.
Inside were police reports.
A burned Buick.
A dead woman identified as Elena Carbone.
No witnesses.
No skid marks.
No alcohol.
Lucia said:
“A retired detective contacted me six months ago.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Why?”
“He was dying.”
Lucia looked toward Giovanni.
“He said the Moretti family paid someone to remove evidence from my mother's car.”
Lorenzo turned sharply.
“Papa?”
Giovanni typed immediately.
YES.
Lucia went still.
Nora whispered, “Why?”
Giovanni worked slowly.
BECAUSE ELENA WAS NOT IN CAR.
Lucia stopped breathing.
“What?”
BODY NOT HER.
“No.”
Lucia stepped back.
“My mother is dead.”
Giovanni typed:
YES. LATER.
Lucia stared.
“What does that mean?”
Giovanni's hand shook badly.
Nora helped stabilize the tablet.
ACCIDENT STAGED.
“By you?”
Yes.
Lucia’s face collapsed.
“You made me think my mother died?”
Two movements.
No.
YOU BOTH LEFT. NEW NAMES.
Lucia shook her head.
“No. I remember the funeral.”
COVER.
“What happened after?”
Giovanni looked toward the window.
His next sentence took almost five minutes.
ELENA TOOK YOU. MADE ME PROMISE NEVER FOLLOW.
Lucia's eyes filled.
“Why would she do that?”
Giovanni stared directly at her.
BECAUSE MY BROTHER FOUND YOU.
Lorenzo went completely still.
“Antonio?”
Yes.
Suddenly the story changed.
Antonio had not begun betraying Giovanni six years before the stroke.
He had been dangerous decades earlier.
Lucia whispered:
“What did he do?”
Giovanni typed:
THREATENED YOUR MOTHER.
“Why?”
YOU WERE MY HEIR THEN.
Silence.
Before Lorenzo was born.
Before Giovanni married Lorenzo’s mother.
Lucia had been Giovanni Moretti's only child.
And in the world Giovanni inhabited at twenty-seven, that made a six-year-old girl valuable.
Nora understood first.
“Antonio wanted control.”
Giovanni moved once.
Lucia whispered:
“So Mom took me away.”
Yes.
“And you let her.”
Giovanni’s eyes filled.
Yes.
“Did you ever look for us?”
His finger stopped.
Then:
EVERY DAY.
Lucia slapped him.
The sound cracked through the library.
Lorenzo moved instantly.
Nora caught his arm.
“Don't.”
Lucia was crying.
“You don't get credit for missing me!”
Giovanni did not move.
“You could have come.”
He typed:
I PROMISED HER.
“You chose a promise over your daughter.”
Giovanni stared at her.
Then typed:
YES.
No excuse.
No defense.
Just truth.
Lucia began to sob.
And for the first time Nora understood that Giovanni's greatest mistake had not been violence.
May you like
It had been believing absence could be love.
Exactly the mistake every man in this family seemed destined to make.
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