Chapter 9 - Claire Read the Letter Her Mother Never Got to Send

The Romano house was quiet the next morning.

No gala.

No music.

No staff except me.

Damian asked everyone else to go home.

Claire sat at the kitchen table.

Not the formal dining room.

The kitchen.

A cup of coffee in front of her.

Eleven unopened letters beside it.

Marco sat across the room.

He did not pressure her.

Damian stood by the window.

Claire opened the first letter.

She was seven when Elena wrote it.

My beautiful girl,

Claire stopped.

Then kept reading silently.

A minute later, she smiled.

Then cried.

She opened the second.

Then the third.

At noon, she reached the final letter.

Dated eight years earlier.

Two months before Elena died.

Claire looked at Damian.

“Read this one with me.”

He sat beside her.

They opened it together.

My children,

Damian stopped.

This letter was meant for both.

Claire read aloud.

If Marco ever manages to put you in the same room, please do one thing before you decide who to blame.

Look at each other.

They did.

Same dark eyes.

Same line between their eyebrows when upset.

Different lives.

Same beginning.

Claire continued.

Neither of you owes the other the years you lost.

Do not turn being twins into another obligation adults place on you.

Damian swallowed.

Claire read:

If you become friends, I will be grateful.

If you only become people who know the truth about each other, I will still be grateful.

Claire smiled through tears.

“That sounds like her.”

Damian looked at Marco.

“You remember?”

Marco nodded.

“She hated emotional pressure.”

Claire continued.

I need you to know something about your father.

Marco looked away.

Damian stared at the page.

Claire read:

Marco did leave.

But he did not leave because he did not love us.

Charles had documents that could send him to prison for crimes committed by Roberto Romano’s men.

Damian frowned.

Marco closed his eyes.

Elena wrote:

Some of the signatures were Marco’s.

Silence.

Damian looked at his father.

“You signed them?”

Marco nodded.

“What were they?”

“Shipping papers.”

“For what?”

“Weapons.”

Claire stopped reading.

Marco’s voice was quiet.

“I was not innocent.”

Damian stared.

Marco continued.

“Charles did not invent every threat.”

The room became still.

“I had done things I was ashamed of.”

Damian asked:

“Did you kill anyone?”

“No.”

“Did you know what the shipments carried?”

“Eventually.”

“And you kept signing?”

“For six months.”

Damian looked away.

Marco did not defend himself.

“That is why I left.”

Claire frowned.

“Not only because of Vincent?”

“No.”

“I could have fought Charles publicly.”

Marco looked at Damian.

“But I might have gone to prison.”

“And you chose to run.”

“Yes.”

Damian’s voice sharpened.

“So everyone has been making choices for us.”

Marco nodded.

“Yes.”

Claire returned to the letter.

Your father’s greatest mistake was believing he had to become innocent before he could become honest.

Marco’s eyes filled.

Claire read:

Do not make the same mistake.

Damian stared at those words.

Bianca appeared in the doorway.

She had come to collect a few things she left during the gala.

She heard the last sentence.

She stopped.

Damian noticed.

Claire did too.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Claire closed the letter.

She looked at Marco.

“I’m not ready to call you Dad.”

Marco nodded.

“I didn’t come here to demand it.”

“But I want to know you.”

His face broke.

“That is more than I deserve.”

Claire shook her head.

“Stop deciding what I am allowed to give you.”

Marco nodded again.

“Right.”

She looked at Damian.

“And you.”

“What?”

“You are not allowed to become protective just because you learned I exist.”

Damian almost smiled.

“I already failed at that.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They looked at each other.

Then laughed.

Bianca turned to leave.

Damian stopped her.

“Bianca.”

She looked back.

He walked toward her.

She did not speak.

He said:

“I read my mother’s letter.”

“I heard.”

“She said honesty does not require innocence.”

Bianca’s eyes filled.

“That doesn’t mean you forgive me.”

“No.”

She nodded.

“But I want to understand one thing.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell Claire first?”

Bianca looked at her sister.

“Because I knew she would confront Dad immediately.”

Claire nodded.

“Correct.”

“And I thought he might destroy the records.”

Damian asked:

“Why not tell me?”

Bianca’s answer was simple.

“Because I was afraid you would look at me exactly the way you looked at me last night.”

Damian was quiet.

She continued.

“So I chose six months of lying to avoid one terrible moment.”

“And created a worse one.”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

“Thank you.”

She looked confused.

“For what?”

“For finally answering without trying to make it noble.”

Bianca cried.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Is that enough?”

“No.”

Her face fell.

Damian continued.

“But it is not nothing.”

He stepped back.

“We start there.”

Bianca nodded.

Not engaged.

Not separated forever.

Just there.

Claire opened another envelope.

This one had no stamp.

She frowned.

“Damian.”

He looked at her.

Inside was a small photograph.

Two newborn babies.

On the back, Elena had written:

CLAIRE — 11:43 P.M.

DAMIAN — 11:51 P.M.

Damian stared.

“Eight minutes.”

Claire smiled.

“I’m older.”

“No.”

“It is literally documented.”

“Forgery.”

Marco laughed.

For the first time, the sound did not hurt.

Claire turned the photograph over again.

There was one more sentence.

If they ever meet, tell Damian his sister kicked him before she was born.

Damian stared at Claire.

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She smiled wider.

“I knew I liked her.”