Chapter 3 - The Recording
Dante did not accuse Sophia.
That almost made the doubt in his eyes worse.
He simply stood beside the green felt table while Anthony's recorded voice repeated the lie that Sophia had planned to replace Vanessa.
Sophia could feel every man in the Lucky Ace pretending not to listen.
"Turn it off," she said.
Vincent Romano stopped the recorder.
Anthony moved toward her.
"Sophia, please."
She stepped away.
"Do not touch me."
"She told me it was just for insurance."
"Insurance against what?"
Anthony looked at Dante and then back at his daughter.
"She said if things got ugly, she needed proof you had been manipulating him."
Sophia laughed without humor.
"So you gave her proof of something that never happened."
"I was scared."
"No, Dad."
Sophia's voice broke for the first time.
"You were paid."
Anthony closed his eyes.
His silence was confession enough.
Dante took the recorder from Vincent.
"How much did she give him?"
Vincent shrugged.
"Ask him."
Dante did.
"How much?"
Anthony swallowed.
"Five thousand."
Sophia stared at her father.
She remembered selling Nonna Teresa's bracelet for twelve hundred dollars because Anthony had sworn his previous debt would be the last one.
She remembered working until her knees shook.
She remembered skipping groceries for three days so his electricity would stay on.
And now he had sold her reputation for five thousand dollars.
"I am done," she whispered.
Anthony reached for her again.
"Sophia."
"I said I am done."
Dante looked toward Enzo.
"Take Mr. Rossi to the car."
Sophia turned sharply.
"No."
Dante's eyes met hers.
"He cannot stay here."
"Then let him go home."
"Someone just used him to construct a case against you."
"That is his problem."
Anthony flinched harder than before.
Dante's expression softened by a degree.
"It becomes your problem if they use him again."
Sophia hated that he was right.
She hated even more that her father had made Dante right.
"Fine," she said.
"But he does not stay with me."
Dante nodded once.
"He won't."
Enzo escorted Anthony downstairs.
Vincent poured himself a drink.
"Now that the family drama is finished, I would like my account closed."
Dante dropped the forged note onto the table.
"It is closed."
"Not until I know who used your authorization."
"You accepted a forged agreement."
"I accepted a Moretti guarantee."
"Without calling me."
Vincent's eyes became cautious.
"The guarantee came through a familiar channel."
Dante leaned forward slightly.
"Whose channel?"
Vincent looked at Sophia.
"This conversation is not for employees."
Sophia's anger flared again.
Before she could respond, Dante said one word.
"Stay."
Vincent studied him.
"Interesting."
"Whose channel?"
Vincent set down his glass.
"Carlo Genovese's office."
Dante went perfectly still.
Sophia knew the name.
Vanessa's father.
The man whose shipping and real estate businesses appeared in the society pages almost as often as his daughter did.
Vincent continued.
"The instruction came from a Genovese attorney who has handled joint Moretti matters before."
"Name."
"Paul Mercer."
Dante looked at Sophia.
She could tell from his face that the name mattered.
"Who is he?"
"He drafted the merger agreements tied to my engagement."
Sophia felt the pieces rearrange themselves.
"So this is bigger than Vanessa being jealous."
Dante's mouth hardened.
"It may be."
Vincent leaned back.
"Or perhaps your fiancee simply dislikes competition."
Dante's gaze turned lethal.
"Choose your next sentence carefully."
Vincent smiled, but less confidently than before.
Sophia looked at the recorder in Dante's hand.
"I want a copy."
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because the man lying on it is my father."
"And?"
"And if someone tries to use it against me, I want the entire recording, not an edited version."
Dante looked at her with approval this time.
Vincent sighed.
"Enzo can have the file."
"Now."
Vincent's mouth tightened.
"You learn quickly."
Sophia met his gaze.
"I have expensive teachers."
Twenty minutes later, they left the Lucky Ace with the original recording copied to two secure drives.
Anthony sat in the second SUV.
Sophia refused to ride with him.
The drive back to Manhattan was silent for several blocks.
Then Dante spoke.
"I should not have looked at you like that."
Sophia kept her eyes on the window.
"Like what?"
"Like I believed him."
She turned toward him.
"Did you?"
Dante took longer to answer than she wanted.
"For perhaps one second."
Sophia nodded.
"Thank you for the honesty."
"You are angry."
"Very observant."
"At me?"
"At everyone."
He accepted that.
Traffic crawled along Delancey Street.
Sophia rubbed her hands together because she had begun shaking.
Dante noticed.
He reached toward her, stopped, and lowered his hand.
The restraint hurt more than the touch in the kitchen had.
"Vanessa knew exactly what she was doing," Sophia said.
"Yes."
"She knew my father would take the money."
"Yes."
"Which means somebody gave her his history."
Dante's expression darkened.
"Yes."
Sophia looked at him.
"Was it you?"
"No."
"Did anybody in your house have access to the file you made on me?"
Dante went silent.
Sophia's heartbeat changed.
"Dante."
"Enzo."
"Anyone else?"
"My attorney."
"Anyone else?"
His jaw tightened.
"My personal assistant, Michael."
Sophia remembered a quiet man in his thirties who brought folders to the house every morning and rarely looked anyone in the eye.
"And Vanessa?"
"Not officially."
"That is not an answer."
Dante looked at her.
"She knows Michael."
Sophia closed her eyes.
"Of course she does."
When they returned to the mansion, Elena was waiting in the front hall.
She looked from Sophia's face to Dante's and immediately knew something was wrong.
"Where is Anthony?"
Sophia stopped.
"How do you know his name?"
Elena blinked.
Dante looked at his mother.
A strange silence passed between them.
Sophia's exhaustion vanished.
"Why do you know my father's name?"
Elena tightened both hands around her cane.
"Sophia, come sit down."
"No."
Dante stepped closer.
"Mama."
"Not now."
Sophia looked between them.
"There is something you are not telling me."
Elena's face had lost its color.
"There are many things I have not told you."
"About my father?"
Elena's eyes filled with an old sadness.
"About your grandmother."
Sophia stopped breathing.
Elena reached beneath the collar of her blouse and pulled out a thin gold chain.
A small medal hung from it.
Sophia recognized the shape before Elena even placed it in her palm.
Saint Rosalia.
Her grandmother had worn an identical medal every day of Sophia's childhood.
Elena looked at her.
"Teresa Rossi gave me this forty-one years ago."
Sophia stared at the medal.
"You knew my nonna?"
May you like
Elena nodded.
"She saved my life."
