Chapter 6: The Document She Kept
By the time Alessandro returned upstairs, Livia had fallen asleep on the settee with her head in Rosalie's lap.
The small fistful of hair was still on the cushion beside her.
Rosalie looked up when he came in.
She didn't ask how it went.
She read it in his face.
"Her father?" she said quietly.
"Made threats." Alessandro sat down in the chair near the door.
"Nothing he can actually follow through on.
But he'll try."
"What kind of threats?"
"Business.
Connections.
The usual." He leaned back.
"He didn't know about the money.
Or he was very good at pretending he didn't."
Elena came in behind him and closed the door.
"Carla said she kept a copy of the document," Elena said.
"We need that copy."
"I know."
"If Bianca tries to reframe this — and she will — that document is the only thing that shows what she actually did.
The coercion.
The fabricated photographs.
The payment."
"I know, Mama."
Elena sat down across from him.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked at her son for a moment without speaking.
"How are you?" she asked.
He looked at Livia sleeping.
At the uneven line of her hair against Rosalie's arm.
"I keep thinking about the clippers," he said.
"She walked into that room and did that to a child.
Livia is eleven years old." His voice stayed level but his hands tightened on the arms of the chair.
"And she smiled.
The whole time, she smiled."
"I know."
"I almost married her."
"You didn't."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Carla's lawyer has the document," he said.
"I'm going to call him tomorrow.
I want a full record — the coercion, the payment, the fabricated evidence.
Everything." He looked at his mother.
"And I want to know if what Bianca did rises to the level of something that can be reported."
Elena nodded slowly.
"I think it does."
A knock at the door.
Soft.
Rosalie looked up.
Alessandro stood and opened it.
It was Marco, his younger brother, still in his wedding suit.
He looked at the room — at Livia asleep, at the scattered cosmetics still on the vanity, at the clippers on the floor where they had fallen.
"I heard what you said downstairs," Marco said.
"I wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I'm all right."
Marco stepped in.
He looked at the clippers for a moment, then at Alessandro.
"She did that to Livia?"
"Yes."
Marco's expression didn't change much.
But he bent down, picked up the clippers, and set them on the vanity out of sight behind the mirror.
"I never liked her," he said simply.
"I should have said so earlier."
"You said it now," Alessandro said.
"What do you need?"
Alessandro thought for a moment.
"I need someone to drive Rosalie and Livia home when Livia wakes up.
I need to stay here and deal with the venue.
And tomorrow I need to make some calls."
"I'll drive them." Marco looked at Livia.
"Does she understand what happened?"
"She understands enough."
Marco nodded.
He moved to the chair near the settee and sat down quietly, as though keeping watch.
Alessandro's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
An unknown number.
A text message.
Four words.
*You should have listened.*
He stared at it.
Then a second message arrived from the same number, and this one was not four words.
It was a photograph.
Recent.
Taken from outside — through a window, by the look of the angle.
It was a photograph of Livia.
Asleep.
Right now.
In this room.
Alessandro's head came up fast.
He crossed to the window in three steps and looked down.
May you like
The street below was empty.
But the photograph had been taken within the last ten minutes.
