Chapter 6 - ALDO’S MISSING PAGE

The cars stopped outside.

Nobody moved.

Marco looked toward the back door.

“We leave through the lake side.”

Enzo shook his head.

“No.”

Isabella whispered:

“Enzo.”

“I have spent ten years walking through stories other people wrote for me.”

He looked toward the front door.

“I’m done leaving rooms before the liar enters.”

Aldo stepped beside him.

“So am I.”

The first knock came three seconds later.

Not loud.

Almost polite.

Vittorio Valenti always had manners.

Even when he was threatening someone.

Sofia stood behind Enzo.

The knock came again.

Then her father’s voice.

“Sofia.”

She closed her eyes.

“I know you are inside.”

Enzo opened the door.

Vittorio Valenti stood beneath the porch light.

Sixty-two.

Silver hair.

Dark overcoat.

No visible weapon.

Two men stood near the cars.

A third remained by the trees.

Vittorio looked past Enzo.

He saw Marco.

Then Isabella.

For one second, he looked old.

Then the expression disappeared.

“Well.”

Marco gave him no greeting.

Vittorio looked at Sofia.

“You should have gone home.”

She answered:

“I thought I was.”

His eyes narrowed.

Enzo stepped into the doorway.

“Why did you pay for my mother’s clinic?”

Vittorio sighed.

“Because your father stopped.”

Marco’s jaw tightened.

“That is not why.”

“Then tell him.”

Vittorio smiled faintly.

“You enjoy confession now?”

Enzo interrupted.

“Why did you keep her there?”

Vittorio looked at Isabella.

“She had documents that could destroy people.”

“She was a person.”

“Yes.”

His calmness made Sofia flinch.

Enzo asked:

“Did you threaten my father?”

“Yes.”

Marco stared at him.

Vittorio continued.

“He threatened me too.”

“With evidence.”

“With prison.”

Aldo whispered:

“That is not the same thing.”

Vittorio finally noticed him.

“Aldo.”

The old house manager did not move.

“You look terrible.”

Aldo held up his bandaged hand.

“You paid for this.”

Vittorio glanced at it.

“I paid men to recover stolen records.”

“You paid men to lock a seventy-five-year-old man in a room.”

Vittorio’s eyes hardened.

“You broke the window yourself.”

Enzo looked at Aldo.

Aldo nodded.

There it was.

Proof without paper.

Vittorio had just admitted enough.

Sofia heard it too.

She removed her phone from her bag.

This time, she started recording.

Her father saw.

“Put that away.”

“No.”

“Sofia.”

“No.”

The word surprised even her.

Vittorio’s expression changed.

Then he looked at Enzo.

“You think this makes your father innocent?”

Enzo glanced at Marco.

“No.”

Marco looked at him.

Enzo continued.

“That is the first mistake you keep making.”

“What?”

“Thinking I need him to be innocent for you to be guilty.”

Vittorio stopped smiling.

Aldo stepped toward the table.

“I have something too.”

He removed his coat.

Then the inner lining.

A small seam had been cut and resewn.

He opened it with his fingers.

From inside, he pulled one folded sheet.

Marco stared.

“You kept that?”

Aldo nodded.

“What is it?” Enzo asked.

“The page I did not put on the flash drive.”

He unfolded it.

Old paper.

Blue accounting lines.

Names.

Dates.

Transfers.

At the bottom were three signatures.

Marco Marchetti.

Vittorio Valenti.

And Elena Valenti.

Sofia stared at her mother’s name.

“No.”

Aldo pointed to a handwritten note beside the final transfer.

STOP AFTER JUNE 14. CHILDREN ARE NOT PART OF THIS.

Sofia touched the paper.

“That is her handwriting.”

Vittorio looked away.

Enzo noticed.

“What happened June fourteenth?”

Nobody answered.

Enzo looked at his father.

Marco’s face had changed.

“Dad.”

Marco swallowed.

“That was the day Elena told Vittorio she was leaving.”

Sofia whispered:

“And?”

Aldo answered.

“She disappeared the next morning.”

Sofia turned toward her father.

“You told me she became sick.”

“She was sick.”

“Where did she go?”

Vittorio said nothing.

Sofia moved closer.

“Where did my mother go?”

He looked at her.

“I sent her away.”

“Where?”

“To people I trusted.”

Sofia laughed in disbelief.

“Like the clinic?”

“No.”

“Then where?”

Vittorio’s calm broke.

“I was trying to keep her alive.”

Marco stepped forward.

“Tell her from whom.”

Vittorio looked at him.

Marco repeated:

“Tell your daughter who wanted Elena dead.”

Sofia stared between them.

Vittorio’s eyes moved to the old ledger page.

Then to Marco’s signature.

Finally he said:

“Your father.”

Enzo went still.

Marco did not.

He looked almost tired.

Sofia turned to Enzo.

“No.”

Vittorio pointed at Marco.

“He had the most to lose.”

Marco shook his head.

“I wanted Elena protected.”

“You wanted her silent.”

“You are lying.”

Vittorio looked at Aldo.

“Ask him.”

Everyone turned.

Aldo’s face had gone pale.

Enzo stepped toward him.

“What does he mean?”

Aldo folded the page slowly.

“I was at Valenti Shipping the night Elena disappeared.”

Sofia stared.

“You saw her?”

“Yes.”

“With my father?”

“Yes.”

“With Marco?”

Aldo hesitated.

Then nodded.

Enzo’s face hardened.

“You said you left twenty-seven years ago.”

“I did.”

“When?”

“The morning after.”

Sofia looked sick.

“What happened that night?”

Aldo closed his eyes.

“When I entered the records office, Elena was crying.”

He looked at Marco.

“Marco was holding a gun.”

The boathouse became silent.

Enzo turned toward his father.

Marco did not deny being there.

He only said:

“Aldo.”

But Aldo kept speaking.

“And Vittorio was bleeding.”

Sofia stared at her father.

“From what?”

Vittorio touched an old scar near his hairline.

Aldo looked at all of us.

“That is the part none of them ever told their children.”

Enzo’s voice was barely audible.

“What part?”

Aldo looked at him.

“The first disappearance did not begin with the boat.”

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He paused.

“It began with a gunshot.”