Chapter 3 - SOFIA HAD BEEN THERE BEFORE

Enzo pulled his hand away.

“When?”

Isabella did not answer immediately.

That made the answer worse.

“When was Sofia here?”

“December eighteenth.”

Enzo stared at her.

Three days before Christmas.

The candle.

The empty chair at the end of his dining table.

The photograph of his mother he had placed beside it.

I had worked that dinner.

I remembered Sofia standing behind him with one hand on his shoulder.

I remembered thinking she looked sad for him.

Now I wondered who she had really been sad for.

Enzo asked:

“What did she want?”

“To know whether your father was alive.”

“And you told her?”

“No.”

Isabella looked at the watch.

“He did.”

Aldo frowned.

“Marco met Sofia?”

“Yes.”

Enzo turned toward him.

“You didn’t know?”

“No.”

For the first time that night, Aldo looked genuinely shaken.

Isabella continued.

“Sofia came alone. She said she had discovered payments from her father to this clinic. She believed I was dead until she saw my name in an old intake file.”

Enzo’s voice was flat.

“She told me she found out before Christmas.”

“That part was true.”

“Only that part?”

Isabella’s silence answered him.

Enzo looked toward the door.

“Where is she now?”

A voice came from the hallway.

“Right here.”

Sofia stood beside the nurse’s station.

Still wearing the dark red gown.

But the diamonds were gone.

So were her shoes.

She held them in one hand.

Her hair had started to fall from its pins.

For the first time that night, she did not look like a bride.

She looked twenty-nine.

Tired.

Terrified.

And completely alone.

Aldo stepped in front of Isabella.

Sofia noticed.

“I’m not here for her.”

Enzo walked into the hallway.

“Then why are you here?”

“For you.”

He laughed once.

Again, there was no humor.

“You had six months for me.”

“I know.”

“You had Christmas.”

“I know.”

“You had every morning after that.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

She did.

Enzo pointed toward the room.

“My mother has been alive for ten years.”

“Yes.”

“My father met you.”

Sofia’s eyes filled.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

She looked at Isabella.

Then back at him.

“St. Gabriel.”

Aldo whispered something in Italian.

Enzo didn’t look away from Sofia.

“What did he say to you?”

“That he wanted to see you.”

Enzo’s face went still.

“And?”

Sofia began crying.

Not loudly.

That somehow made it worse.

“And I asked him not to.”

Nobody moved.

Enzo’s voice became almost gentle.

“Why?”

“Because my father knew he was alive.”

“Of course he did.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me.”

Sofia set her shoes on the floor.

“My father has spent ten years making sure your father stayed dead to the world.”

“Why?”

“Because if Marco Marchetti came back, the old investigation would come back with him.”

“What investigation?”

“The shipping accounts.”

Aldo stepped closer.

“What accounts?”

Sofia looked at him.

“The ones you found eight months ago.”

Aldo’s expression changed.

“You reactivated them.”

“No.”

“Your father did.”

“Yes.”

Enzo looked between them.

“Why now?”

Sofia’s mouth trembled.

“Because of the wedding.”

The word landed differently this time.

Enzo stared at her.

“What does our wedding have to do with dead shipping accounts?”

She reached into the small satin bag still hanging from her wrist.

Aldo immediately moved.

Sofia stopped.

“It’s paper.”

She removed an envelope.

Enzo did not take it.

“What is it?”

“Our marriage agreement.”

His eyes narrowed.

“The one your lawyers revised last month.”

“Yes.”

“I never signed the revision.”

“No.”

“But you were going to tomorrow.”

Sofia looked ashamed.

“Probably.”

Enzo took the envelope.

Inside was a copy.

Several pages had yellow tabs.

He turned to one.

Then another.

I watched his eyes slow down.

“What is Marchetti Maritime Holdings?”

Aldo looked surprised.

“I haven’t heard that name in years.”

Isabella spoke from the room.

“Your grandfather’s company.”

Enzo looked at her.

“It was dissolved.”

“Publicly.”

Aldo took the paper.

Then he understood.

“No.”

Enzo looked at him.

“What?”

Aldo pointed to one paragraph.

“If Enzo marries, controlling authority over dormant family trusts transfers from the old estate trustees directly to him.”

Sofia whispered:

“And his legal spouse gains emergency co-signing authority.”

Enzo slowly looked at her.

“You wanted access.”

“No.”

“Your father wanted access.”

“Yes.”

“To what?”

Sofia’s eyes moved to Aldo.

“The St. Gabriel property.”

Aldo went pale again.

Enzo noticed.

“You keep doing that.”

Aldo looked at Isabella.

She nodded.

Then he said:

“The boathouse was never owned by your father personally.”

“Who owns it?”

“The dormant trust.”

Enzo looked back at Sofia.

“And what is inside?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try again.”

“I don’t.”

She stepped closer.

“My father believes your mother hid the original ledger there.”

Isabella shook her head.

“He is wrong.”

Everyone looked at her.

Sofia whispered:

“Then where is it?”

Isabella’s expression hardened.

“I will not tell a Valenti.”

Sofia closed her eyes.

Enzo asked:

“Did my father ask you to stop the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Did he write to me?”

Sofia did not answer.

Enzo’s face changed.

“Sofia.”

She reached into her bag again.

This time she removed a folded letter.

Unopened.

His name was written across the front.

ENZO.

The handwriting was old-fashioned.

Strong.

Enzo stared at it.

“My father’s handwriting.”

Sofia nodded.

“He gave it to me in March.”

“You said December.”

“I met him twice.”

Aldo looked at her in disbelief.

Enzo took the letter.

He did not open it.

Not yet.

He only asked:

“What did you tell him?”

Sofia swallowed.

“That I would give it to you.”

“And you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“My father found out I had it.”

“What did he threaten?”

Sofia looked toward Isabella.

Then toward Aldo.

Finally at me.

“He said if I gave Enzo that letter, the clinic would lose its protection.”

Isabella gave a bitter smile.

“Protection.”

Sofia flinched.

Enzo looked at the unopened letter.

Then at the woman he had planned to marry.

“You still chose him.”

Sofia whispered:

“I thought I was choosing time.”

“For who?”

“For all of you.”

Enzo opened the letter.

There were only four lines.

He read them silently.

Then again.

Aldo asked:

“What does it say?”

Enzo looked up.

His face had changed.

“My father says Vittorio didn’t put my mother in the clinic.”

Sofia stared.

“What?”

Enzo held the letter tighter.

“He says someone from my own family did.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

Aldo stepped backward.

And for the first time, I saw fear on the old man’s face that had nothing to do with the Valentis.

Enzo saw it too.

“Who, Aldo?”

Aldo said nothing.

Enzo moved closer.

“Who signed the papers that put my mother here?”

Aldo looked at Isabella.

She whispered:

“Tell him.”

Aldo’s shoulders dropped.

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Then he looked at the man he had helped raise.

“Your father did.”