Chapter 12 - The Screen Behind the Altar
Lucia survived the first six minutes because Sophie refused to let her die.
“Medication bag!” Sophie shouted.
A paramedic ran forward.
Sophie knew Lucia's emergency kit better than half the professionals in the room.
She identified the medication.
She told them about the puncture.
She rode in the ambulance.
I followed.
At the hospital, doctors stabilized my mother.
The drug had been dangerous.
But not enough had entered her bloodstream.
Sophie had noticed quickly.
Again.
Always Sophie.
Marco found the missing wedding guest.
Eric Nolan.
The paralegal.
We thought he had cooperated.
He had lied.
Cole had supplied him with the second syringe.
Nolan was arrested at Grand Central trying to leave the city.
By evening, the conspiracy was finished.
Carlo confessed nothing.
He didn't need to.
Recordings did it for him.
Damian blamed Carlo.
Vivian blamed Damian.
Cole blamed money.
Richard blamed fear.
Keane blamed everyone.
The truth required none of their excuses.
Lucia woke after midnight.
I sat beside her.
Sophie slept in a chair near the window.
My mother looked at her.
“She stayed?”
“Yes.”
“Of course she did.”
I smiled.
Lucia studied me.
“You love her.”
I looked at my mother.
“You were poisoned twelve hours ago.”
“So I'm allowed to be direct.”
“Sleep.”
“Massimo.”
I sighed.
“I don't know what I feel.”
“Liar.”
“Mother.”
She smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“Don't confuse gratitude with love.”
“I won't.”
“And don't confuse guilt with responsibility.”
“I won't.”
“And don't become one of those ridiculous men who thinks buying a woman a building counts as courtship.”
I stared.
Sophie stirred.
Lucia whispered, “Especially that.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
The next morning, Sophie woke.
“How is she?”
“Insufferable.”
“Then she's better.”
“Yes.”
Sophie sat beside me.
Our shoulders touched.
Neither moved away.
“What happens now?”
“Trials.”
“To Vivian?”
“Yes.”
“Damian?”
“Yes.”
“Carlo?”
“He'll die in prison.”
“And the foundation?”
“It's yours if you want it.”
She looked at me sharply.
“No.”
“It bears your father's name.”
“That doesn't make forty million dollars mine.”
“You could oversee it.”
“That's different.”
“Exactly.”
She thought.
“Maybe.”
I smiled.
“That's the first time you've agreed with me.”
“Don't get used to it.”
My phone buzzed.
Marco.
We found something in Carlo's storage unit.
I left Sophie with Lucia.
At the unit, Marco handed me a sealed envelope.
My father's handwriting covered the front.
FOR MASSIMO.
Inside was a letter.
My father had known about Thomas.
Known about Carlo.
Known about Richard.
And he had been ashamed.
I read the final paragraph twice.
Power means nothing if the innocent pay for your silence. If you inherit anything from me, let it be the courage to end what I was too weak to end.
I sat down.
For years, I had built myself in my father's image.
Now I understood that his final wish had been for me to become different.
Marco handed me another envelope.
FOR THOMAS BENNETT'S DAUGHTER.
I didn't open it.
That belonged to Sophie.
When I returned, her chair beside Lucia's bed was empty.
“Where is she?”
Lucia looked toward the door.
“She went home.”
“Why?”
“She said her part was finished.”
I found Sophie's employee badge on the table.
Under it was a resignation letter.
And beneath that, four handwritten words:
I need my own life.
I ran toward the elevator.
The doors opened.
May you like
Sophie stood inside with a suitcase.
And she wasn't alone.
