Chapter 3 - The Performance of a Lifetime
The next forty-eight hours,
were a masterclass in psychological warfare,
though Leonardo was the only one,
who didn't know the battle had begun.
I laughed at his jokes,
I allowed him to pour me wine,
and I listened to him talk,
about his upcoming business trip to London.
"It’s just for a few days,"
he said,
stroking my hand during dinner.
"Just a boring meeting,
with some boring investors."
"I’ll be back before you even miss me."
I knew the investors didn't exist.
I knew he was planning to take Sofia,
on a shopping spree in Knightsbridge,
using the credit card,
that was linked to my father’s secondary account.
But I didn't argue.
I simply took a sip of my Chardonnay,
and asked if he wanted me to pack for him.
"You're an angel,
Elena,"
he said,
his eyes filled with a terrifying,
empty affection.
While he was in the shower that evening,
I moved with the silent precision,
of a ghost.
I found the laptop,
hidden in the false bottom,
of his leather briefcase.
My fingers flew across the keys,
entering the password I had guessed,
months ago,
which was simply 'GoldenBoy7'.
The files were a treasure trove,
of corporate malpractice,
and personal cruelty.
I found the "Rossi Life Insurance" folder,
containing digital copies of death certificates,
that had been issued in a small village,
in the hills of Tuscany.
I found the emails to Sofia,
where he referred to me as "The Cash Cow,"
and joked about how my father,
was practically begging to hand over,
his hard-earned millions.
"She’s a doll,"
he had written to her,
"pretty enough to look at,"
"and stupid enough to believe anything."
"Once the merger is complete,"
"we’ll have enough to vanish for good."
The rage flared in my chest,
hot and blinding,
but I forced it down,
focusing on the task at hand.
I inserted an encrypted thumb drive,
and copied every single byte of data,
watching the progress bar crawl,
with agonizing slowness.
I heard the water in the shower,
stop.
My heart hammered against my ribs,
as the bar hit ninety-nine percent.
One hundred.
I yanked the drive out,
closed the laptop,
and slid the briefcase back into the closet,
just as the bathroom door opened.
Leonardo stepped out,
a towel wrapped around his waist,
steam billowing around him like a shroud.
"What are you doing,
honey?"
he asked,
noticing me standing near the closet.
"Just looking for that blue tie,
you like,"
I lied,
holding up a piece of silk I had grabbed,
at random.
"I want you to look your best,
in London."
He smiled,
walking over and pulling me close.
"You're too good to me,"
he whispered.
I looked at the reflection,
of us in the mirror.
We looked like the perfect couple,
a picture of wealth and happiness.
But I saw the truth.
I saw a man who was already dead,
he just didn't know it yet.
That night,
I slipped out of the villa,
while he slept in a drugged slumber,
aided by the extra-strength sleep aid,
I had crushed into his nightly tea.
I met Chiara,
the woman from the retreat,
at a coffee shop in the canyon.
It turned out she wasn't a stranger,
she was an investigator,
working for my father,
who had been suspicious of Leonardo,
from the very beginning.
"My father knew?"
I asked,
feeling a strange mix of relief and anger.
"He didn't know about Sofia,"
Chiara explained,
her Italian accent vanishing,
to reveal a sharp,
Midwestern tone.
"But he knew the finances didn't add up."
"He hired me to watch over you."
"I'm sorry I had to tell you,
the way I did."
"But you needed to see it,
with your own eyes."
I handed her the thumb drive.
"This is everything,"
I said.
"The insurance fraud,"
"the embezzlement,"
"the bigamy."
"I want the reveal to happen,"
"at the anniversary party tomorrow night."
"The one my father is hosting,
for his business partners."
Chiara nodded,
her eyes reflecting the cold light,
of the cafe.
"It will be a night to remember,
Elena."
"The 'Golden Boy' is going to lose his shine."
I drove back to the villa,
feeling the weight of the drive,
in my pocket.
May you like
I was no longer just a wife.
I was the executioner.
