The Maid Was Fired In Front Of The Mafia Boss—His Next Order Silenced The Room

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Chapter 24

THEME:
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He read it aloud, because Allesia’s hands were unsteady and because some things should be said out loud.

My name is Bianca Moretti and I am writing this because I do not know how many more days I have.

I have kept the ledger for two years. I began keeping it because I found a transfer I could not explain and because I have never in my life been able to leave a question alone. Now I know who took the money. I have known for four months.

It is not Lorenzo. Lorenzo is weak and frightened and he has done terrible things to keep himself safe, but he is not the thief. He is the shield. The thief is my brother-in-law, Vittorio, who is not dead. He has been alive the whole time, and he has been taking from this family since before my son was born.

Vittorio believes I do not know. He comes to dinner and he kisses my cheek and he asks about Dante’s school. He is the most patient man I have ever met, and I am afraid of him in a way I have never been afraid of anything.

I have given a copy of everything to Giovani Romano, who worked for the company and who is honest and who has a daughter he loves. I told him to keep it somewhere no one would look, and I told him that if anything happens to me, he must not trust Lorenzo and he must not trust my husband’s brother and he must never, ever let Vittorio learn that he has a family.

I am writing this in the small room at the end of the west corridor, which no one uses, which I have made my own. If you are reading this, Dante, then I am gone and you are grown. I am sorry that I could not protect you from this. I have tried. I have tried every day.

Do not be like him. Do not be like your father, either. Be someone who is not afraid to be seen.

I love you. I have always loved you.

Your mother.

Dante set the page down.

For a long time he did not say anything at all.

Allesia watched him. She had seen men cry in her life — she had seen them cry in hospital corridors and in courtrooms and in the back of a car — but Dante Moretti did not cry. He stood very still with his hands flat on the desk and his shoulders level, and something behind his face went through a door and closed it.

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