Chapter 6 - The Last Secret at Vetro Nero
At noon, Vetro Nero looked nothing like the room where people had laughed at me.
No guests.
No chandeliers blazing.
Only daylight against dark windows.
Joseph sat at the piano.
My father stood beside him.
"Camila," Matteo said.
I rushed toward him.
"I'm fine."
I stopped.
Joseph raised both hands.
"I didn't kidnap him."
Alessandro entered behind me.
Joseph sighed.
"I said alone."
"I have difficulty following instructions," I said.
Alessandro murmured, "That's true."
"Why are we here?" I demanded.
Joseph looked at Matteo.
My father nodded.
Joseph opened the piano bench.
Inside was another ledger.
Alessandro stared.
"What is that?"
"The original."
Joseph's voice trembled.
"I've kept it for eighteen years."
My father looked furious.
"You could have ended this."
"No. I could have gotten all of us destroyed."
"Why?"
"Because Carbone knew I had it."
Joseph looked at me.
"I helped your father escape."
Everything clicked.
The photograph.
Their history.
His refusal to leave me alone with Alessandro.
"You weren't working with Carbone."
"No."
"You were protecting Dad."
"For as long as I could."
Alessandro opened the ledger.
The records were unmistakable.
Carbone's signatures.
Payments.
False companies.
But there was more.
Alessandro stopped on one page.
"My father's signature."
Matteo shook his head.
"Forged."
"How can you prove that?"
Joseph pointed toward the final page.
"Because Antonio discovered it."
There was a handwritten note.
Alessandro recognized the writing.
He read silently.
Then again.
"What does it say?" I asked.
His voice became rough.
"My father knew Matteo was innocent."
Matteo stared.
"What?"
"He found out."
Alessandro looked up.
"Three months before he died."
My father sat down.
For eighteen years, he'd believed Antonio Moretti died thinking him a traitor.
He hadn't.
"Why didn't he find me?" Matteo whispered.
Joseph answered.
"Because Antonio was already sick. And because Carbone had convinced him you were dead."
My father covered his face.
Nobody spoke.
Finally Alessandro closed the ledger.
"It's over."
Matteo looked up.
"No."
"It is."
"Carbone—"
"Doesn't get to control another day of our lives."
Alessandro made one phone call.
Not to the men people whispered about.
To his attorney.
Then another to the board of Moretti Maritime.
Then federal investigators received copies of records that had been hidden for nearly two decades.
Vincent Carbone's empire didn't collapse with shouting or gunfire.
It collapsed with signatures.
Accounts.
Dates.
Evidence.
By evening, Moretti Maritime had suspended him and opened its records to investigators.
My father sat alone near the stage.
I approached.
"What happens now?"
"I don't know."
"You could start with not disappearing."
He smiled sadly.
"I can do that."
"I'm angry with you."
"You should be."
"I don't forgive you."
"I know."
"Maybe someday."
His eyes filled.
"That's more than I deserve."
I sat beside him.
"Mom loved you."
He looked down.
"I loved her."
"Then spend the rest of your life becoming the man she believed you were."
He nodded.
"I'll try."
From across the room, Alessandro watched us.
My father noticed.
"He's staring at you."
"He does that."
"I don't like it."
"You've been back for twelve hours."
"I'm making up for lost parenting."
"Try slowly."
Alessandro approached.
Matteo stood.
They looked at each other.
Then Alessandro held out his hand.
"My father was wrong about you."
Matteo stared at it.
"So were you."
"Yes."
That surprised him.
Finally, Matteo took his hand.
Alessandro glanced toward me.
"There's still unfinished business."
I frowned.
"What?"
He pointed toward the stage.
"You never finished the aria."
I laughed.
"You cannot be serious."
"I hate unresolved contracts."
My father looked between us.
"What contract?"
Joseph groaned.
"Here we go again."
Alessandro's mouth curved.
"Our marriage agreement."
"Dad, ignore him."
Matteo looked ready to object.
I stepped closer to Alessandro.
"You really want me to finish?"
"Yes."
"And if I do?"
His confidence returned.
"Apparently I have to marry you."
I smiled.
"That's unfortunate."
"For which one of us?"
"We'll find out."
May you like
Then I walked toward the microphone.
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