Chapter 7 - The Bride Who Refused to Be Protected
Three weeks after the financial investigation began, I received a letter from a woman named Teresa Mancini.
She claimed to have worked as an administrative assistant for Carlo Moretti twenty years earlier.
She had seen news reports about my father's old contracts.
And she wanted to talk.
Giulia arranged the meeting at a police station.
Teresa arrived carrying a faded leather folder.
She was in her seventies, with silver hair and trembling hands.
"I knew your father," she told me.
My throat tightened.
"Was he a good man?"
She smiled sadly.
"Better than the men he worked for."
She explained that Enrico Bellini had discovered discrepancies in construction records and shipping documents.
When he threatened to report them, Carlo and Renato pressured him to remain silent.
But my father had made copies.
"Why didn't he go to the police?" I asked.
"He tried. Someone warned Carlo."
Teresa opened the folder.
Inside was a signed statement she had written years earlier, along with correspondence and references to archived records.
She believed the documents could help investigators identify who had authorized the fraudulent transactions.
Then she looked at Alessandro.
"Your father was preparing to confront Renato."
Alessandro went still.
"How do you know?"
"Vittorio told me."
"Why would he tell you?"
"Because I was the person who prepared the documents for his attorney."
The room became silent.
Teresa continued.
"Vittorio knew someone close to him was stealing. He didn't know how far the betrayal went."
I watched Alessandro struggle with the information.
For thirteen years, he had built his life around the belief that his father had been murdered by an outside enemy.
Now the evidence pointed toward someone who had stood beside the family at the funeral.
After the meeting, Alessandro walked with me outside.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For refusing to stay away from this."
I looked at him.
"You didn't want me involved."
"I know."
"And now?"
"Now I understand that you have as much right to the truth as I do."
We stood beside his car.
For a moment, the years between us seemed to disappear.
I remembered the young man at the hospital.
The one who had bought me coffee and asked nothing in return.
"Alex," I said quietly, "I still love you."
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, they were wet.
"I know I don't deserve that."
"Love isn't a prize for good behavior."
I swallowed.
"But marriage requires trust. And I don't trust you yet."
He nodded.
"I understand."
I wanted him to argue.
Part of me wanted him to promise he could fix everything.
But he didn't.
May you like
He simply opened the car door for me.
And let me decide whether to get in.
