Chapter 9 - Sofia Comes Back Without the Ring

Carlo DeLuca pleaded guilty.

Conspiracy.

Financial crimes.

Obstruction.

He agreed to testify against Samuel Pike.

Against former officials.

Against business partners.

He did not ask Sofia to protect him.

That changed something.

Not everything.

Something.

Four months after the engagement party, Sofia came to the country house.

Vincent was outside with Leonard.

I was carrying coffee.

She wore jeans.

Gray sweater.

No ring.

Vincent saw her.

He stopped.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Leonard looked at me.

“We suddenly have somewhere else to be.”

“We do?”

“Yes.”

We left.

Not far.

Just enough.

Sofia looked at Vincent.

“My father was sentenced.”

“I heard.”

“Seven years.”

Vincent nodded.

“He accepted it.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Then she handed Vincent an envelope.

He stared.

“Another letter?”

“No.”

“My statement.”

“To who?”

“Investigators.”

“Why give it to me?”

“Because I wanted you to know I didn’t protect him this time.”

Vincent didn’t take it immediately.

Then he did.

“Did they ask you to testify?”

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

Sofia looked toward the house.

“Your mother?”

“Inside.”

“How is she?”

“Angry.”

Sofia smiled faintly.

“At me?”

“At nineteen years.”

“That seems fair.”

Vincent looked at her.

“You can talk to her if you want.”

Sofia shook her head.

“Not today.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want every apology to become a request for forgiveness.”

Vincent studied her.

She continued.

“I’m trying to learn the difference.”

He looked down at the envelope.

“Good.”

Sofia swallowed.

“I miss you.”

Vincent’s expression softened.

“I miss you too.”

She laughed quietly through tears.

“That makes this worse.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

Sofia closed her eyes.

“And do you trust me?”

Vincent took longer.

“Not enough.”

She nodded.

“Fair.”

Then she looked at him.

“Can trust come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fair too.”

She turned to leave.

Vincent called:

“Sofia.”

She stopped.

He walked toward her.

Not close enough to touch.

“Come to dinner Sunday.”

She stared.

“With your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Leonard?”

“Yes.”

“Amelia?”

“Yes.”

“Your entire truth committee?”

Vincent smiled.

“Basically.”

Sofia laughed.

Then cried.

“Yes.”

Sunday dinner was awkward.

Isabella did not pretend.

Sofia apologized.

Once.

Clearly.

“I asked you to disappear because I was afraid of losing my father.”

Isabella looked at her.

“And now?”

“My father is in prison.”

“Do you regret testifying?”

Sofia thought.

“No.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes.”

Isabella nodded.

“Good.”

Sofia looked confused.

Isabella continued.

“Love does not require blindness.”

Vincent stared at his mother.

Maybe the sentence was for him too.

Six months later, Sofia and Vincent were still not engaged.

They were together.

Slowly.

Publicly.

Without promises they couldn’t keep.

Dominic went to trial.

Samuel went to trial.

More records surfaced.

Names fell.

The family empire became smaller.

Cleaner.

Vincent slept better.

Not always.

But more.

Then Leonard received one final package.

No sender.

Inside was a watch.

Vincent’s father’s watch.

The one he wore the night he died.

And one note.

THE BODY WAS NEVER IDENTIFIED BY DNA.

Vincent stared.

Isabella stopped breathing.

Leonard whispered:

“No.”

Vincent looked at him.

“What?”

Leonard’s face had gone pale.

“The body.”

“What about it?”

“It burned after the warehouse fire.”

Vincent frowned.

“We were told it was my father.”

“Yes.”

“Was it?”

Leonard looked at Isabella.

She whispered:

“I never saw him.”

Vincent stared at the watch.

Samuel had been arrested.

Carlo had confessed.

Dominic had talked.

Yet none of them had ever seen the body identified scientifically.

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Vincent’s voice became quiet.

“Is my father alive?”