Chapter 2 - The Woman Waiting Behind the Conservatory Door

The old conservatory was dark.

Only one window glowed.

Roman stopped at the entrance.

Arthur stood beside him.

I followed three steps behind.

Elena came last.

Roman looked at her.

“You’re coming?”

She nodded.

“If you let me.”

He said nothing.

Then opened the door.

The hallway smelled like wood polish and dust.

Somewhere upstairs, a piano played four notes.

The same four Roman had played at the gala.

He froze.

Arthur whispered:

“She remembers.”

Roman walked faster.

The music stopped.

At the end of the hall, a woman stood beside an upright piano.

Silver in her dark hair.

Black coat.

Hands trembling.

Maria Moretti.

Roman stared.

Nineteen years disappeared from his face.

He looked twelve.

Then fifteen.

Then thirty-three again.

Maria whispered:

“Roman.”

He did not move.

“You came back.”

“Yes.”

“Two weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

“And you waited.”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened.

“Why?”

Maria looked at Elena.

Roman followed her eyes.

Elena lowered her head.

Maria answered:

“Because she asked me to.”

Silence.

Roman turned.

Elena began crying.

“I thought I was protecting you.”

Roman almost laughed.

“That sentence should be banned in this family.”

Maria stepped forward.

“I agreed.”

Roman looked at her.

“You agreed to stay hidden because Elena asked?”

“For six months.”

“Why?”

“Because her grandfather still had people watching me.”

Roman’s expression changed.

“Watching you where?”

“In Spain.”

Arthur frowned.

“Since when?”

Maria looked at him.

“Three years.”

Roman stared.

“Three years?”

“Yes.”

“So he always knew where you were.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“He found me three years ago.”

“How?”

Maria looked at Elena.

Elena whispered:

“My father.”

Roman’s face hardened.

“Your father found my mother.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

“And told your grandfather?”

“No.”

Maria answered.

“He told me to leave Spain.”

Roman stared.

“Why?”

“He said his father had begun searching.”

Elena stepped closer.

“My father tried to move her.”

Roman looked at her.

“Your father helped her?”

“Yes.”

Maria nodded.

“He did.”

Roman frowned.

“Then why did you say your grandfather kept us apart?”

“Because he did.”

Maria sat beside the piano.

“Your father was not innocent either.”

Roman said nothing.

“He agreed to keep me away from you.”

“I heard that part.”

“No.”

She looked at him.

“You heard that he returned my letters.”

“That is enough.”

“It isn’t.”

Roman stared.

Maria continued.

“He was not only afraid of scandal.”

“What else?”

“He was afraid of prison.”

Silence.

Roman’s face changed.

Arthur stepped closer.

“For the hidden assets?”

Maria nodded.

“And more.”

Roman’s voice dropped.

“What more?”

Maria looked toward the old piano.

“Your father and Elena’s grandfather were moving money through charities.”

Roman frowned.

“Fake charities?”

“Some were real.”

“And?”

“They skimmed from them.”

Elena covered her mouth.

Maria continued.

“I found the records.”

“How much?”

“Twenty-six million.”

Roman stared.

“Nineteen years ago?”

“Yes.”

“And my father?”

“He signed transfers.”

Roman looked away.

Maria whispered:

“He later tried to stop.”

“After you disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“He regretted it.”

“Yes.”

Roman laughed quietly.

“Everyone regrets things after the damage becomes permanent.”

Maria’s eyes filled.

“I know.”

He looked at her.

“Why Spain?”

“Because Arthur had a cousin there.”

Roman turned.

Arthur nodded.

“I helped once.”

“You knew where she was?”

“For one year.”

“When?”

“After she first disappeared.”

Roman stared.

“Then you lost contact.”

“Yes.”

Maria reached into her bag.

She removed an old cassette.

“My first message to you.”

Roman took it.

“What does it say?”

“That I was alive.”

His hand tightened.

“When did you send it?”

“Nineteen years ago.”

“Who received it?”

Maria looked at Arthur.

Arthur shook his head.

“It never reached me.”

Maria looked at Elena.

“No.”

Then she looked toward the hallway.

A man stepped into the light.

Seventy-two.

Gray suit.

Walking slowly.

Elena whispered:

“Dad.”

Her father.

David Voss.

Roman stared.

“You.”

David held up both hands.

“I took the cassette.”

Silence.

Roman stepped toward him.

“Why?”

“Because my father told me to.”

Roman’s voice turned cold.

“You were old enough to say no.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I didn’t.”

Maria closed her eyes.

David continued.

“I was twenty-eight. I worked for him. I was afraid of him.”

Roman looked at Elena.

“Runs in the family.”

She flinched.

David accepted it.

Then he looked at Maria.

“I kept the cassette.”

Roman frowned.

“Why?”

“Because I knew one day my father would die.”

Roman stared.

“That was your plan too?”

“No.”

David shook his head.

“My plan was to expose him before then.”

“What happened?”

David looked at the floor.

“I failed.”

Roman almost laughed.

“Another family tradition.”

Maria touched the piano.

“David has something else.”

Roman looked at him.

David took a folded document from his coat.

A bank statement.

One account.

One recent transfer.

Date:

Three days ago.

Amount:

Four million dollars.

Roman frowned.

“From whom?”

David answered:

“My father.”

“To?”

Roman read the name.

M. Moretti.

His face changed.

“My mother?”

Maria shook her head.

“No.”

Roman stared at the page.

“Then who is M. Moretti?”

No one answered.

Roman looked at Arthur.

Then David.

Then Maria.

Finally Elena whispered:

“Roman.”

He turned.

“There was another Moretti.”

Silence.

“Who?”

Elena looked at Maria.

Maria closed her eyes.

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Then said:

“Your sister.”