Chapter 2 - The Woman at the Conservatory

The old conservatory was almost dark.

Roman arrived first.

Arthur came with him.

So did I.

My name is Sophie Clark.

Twenty-seven.

Maid.

And somehow I was carrying two recordings that had already changed a family.

The front doors were unlocked.

Roman stopped.

“That is not good.”

Arthur nodded.

“No.”

Inside:

Dust.

Old velvet seats.

A grand piano beneath one spotlight.

Roman stared at it.

The same model as the one at home.

He walked toward it.

Then heard music.

Four notes.

The melody.

His mother’s melody.

Roman froze.

A woman sat at the piano.

Sixty-two.

Silver-streaked dark hair.

Black coat.

Her hands stopped.

She turned.

Roman did not move.

Neither did she.

Then:

“Roman.”

His face changed.

Nineteen years disappeared.

He whispered:

“Mom?”

Maria Moretti stood.

Her eyes filled.

“You remembered the song.”

Roman laughed once.

Broken.

“You remembered me.”

She crossed the room slowly.

He did not step back.

But he did not move forward either.

“Why nineteen years?”

Maria stopped.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of Elena’s grandfather?”

“At first.”

“And later?”

“Of your father.”

Roman looked away.

Arthur lowered his head.

Maria continued.

“Your father promised me you were safe.”

Roman turned.

“He also returned my letters.”

“Yes.”

“He kept me away.”

“Yes.”

“Then why trust him?”

Maria’s eyes filled.

“Because he sent photographs.”

Roman frowned.

“What photographs?”

Maria opened a folder.

Roman at fourteen.

Seventeen.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-six.

At charity events.

At funerals.

At his father’s bedside.

Roman stared.

“He sent these?”

“Yes.”

“He told me you were happy.”

Roman laughed quietly.

“That excuse again.”

Maria nodded.

“I know.”

Roman asked:

“Did he tell you I thought you were dead?”

“Yes.”

“And you stayed away.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he told me if I returned, Elena’s grandfather would hurt you.”

Roman’s jaw tightened.

“He was still threatening you after you left?”

“For years.”

Arthur said:

“Maria.”

She looked at him.

“There is more.”

Roman stared.

“Of course there is.”

Maria reached into her bag.

One photograph.

Roman’s father.

Elena’s grandfather.

A third man.

Roman knew him.

“Commissioner Vale.”

Arthur frowned.

“The police commissioner?”

Maria nodded.

Roman said:

“He handled your missing-person case.”

“Yes.”

“He told me you left voluntarily.”

Maria laughed without humor.

“I was locked in a hotel room for three days.”

Silence.

Roman stepped closer.

“By whom?”

“Elena’s grandfather’s men.”

Arthur whispered:

“Jesus.”

Maria continued.

“They wanted the photographs.”

“What photographs?”

“The ones proving they moved assets through Moretti businesses.”

Roman looked at Arthur.

“You said my father begged her to stay quiet.”

“Yes.”

Maria nodded.

“He did more than beg.”

Roman’s face hardened.

“What?”

“He gave them the first set.”

Silence.

“My father handed over evidence.”

“Yes.”

“To protect me?”

Maria looked at him.

“That is what he called it.”

Roman closed his eyes.

Then:

“How did you get out?”

“Commissioner Vale.”

Roman stared.

“He helped you?”

“At first.”

“What does that mean?”

Maria looked toward the entrance.

“He helped me escape the hotel.”

“And?”

“Then he made me disappear officially.”

Roman’s expression changed.

“He falsified the case.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Elena’s grandfather had evidence against him.”

Roman sighed.

“Everyone had something on everyone.”

Maria nodded.

“That is how it worked.”

Roman sat at the piano bench.

For the first time, he looked tired.

Then the side door opened.

Elena entered.

Dark red gown under a black coat.

Roman looked at her.

“You followed me.”

“Yes.”

Maria went still.

Elena whispered:

“Mrs. Moretti.”

Maria looked at her.

“You waited too long.”

Elena cried.

“I know.”

Roman said:

“You met her six months ago.”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where?”

Elena hesitated.

Maria answered:

“At the hospital.”

Roman turned.

“Hospital?”

Maria looked down.

“I have cancer.”

Silence.

Roman stood so fast the bench moved.

“What?”

Maria touched his arm.

“Slow.”

“No.”

His voice broke.

“How long?”

“Two years.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Elena started crying harder.

Maria said:

“Because I asked them not to.”

Roman stared at her.

“You came back because you are dying.”

“No.”

“Then why?”

Maria looked toward the piano.

“Because someone else is.”

Roman knew.

“Elena’s grandfather.”

“Yes.”

“Why does his death change anything?”

Maria’s face hardened.

“Because he has the original agreement.”

“What agreement?”

“The one your father signed the night I disappeared.”

Roman frowned.

“What did it say?”

Maria looked at Elena.

Then back at Roman.

“That if I ever returned, control of half the Moretti assets would transfer to the Voss family.”

Roman stared.

“That makes no sense.”

“It was blackmail.”

“Against my father?”

“Yes.”

Roman asked:

“What did they have on him?”

Maria’s voice softened.

“A death.”

Silence.

“Whose?”

Maria did not answer.

Roman looked at Arthur.

Arthur looked away.

Roman’s eyes narrowed.

“Who died?”

Maria whispered:

“Your grandfather.”

And Roman stopped breathing.

Because his grandfather’s death had been called a heart attack.

Nineteen years ago.

May you like

[COMPLETED] “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DRESS! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN OLD SEAM...

[COMPLETED] At the Mafia Boss's Engagement Party, I Served His Hungry So...

[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Tried to Dismiss His Father’s Loyal...

Three days before Maria disappeared.

========================================================================