Chapter 7: The Witness Who Wasn't Supposed to Matter
Sophia and Lena had been moved to the estate's private guest suite on the second floor — a room Lorenzo used for visiting family, with a sitting area and a small kitchen and a window that looked out over the garden rather than the driveway.
He knocked at half past seven.
Sophia opened the door.
She was dressed.
Lorenzo's jacket had been folded neatly and placed on the chair just inside the entrance.
She had clearly not slept.
Lena was asleep on the bed behind her, curled small under a white blanket, one hand tucked beneath her chin.
"Is it over?" Sophia asked quietly.
"The immediate danger is over," Lorenzo said.
"There's more to come.
Investigators.
Statements.
It will take time."
Sophia nodded.
"Will we need to leave?"
"No." He said it without hesitation.
"You're staying.
Both of you."
She looked at him carefully.
"Mr.
Moretti.
I want to say something."
"Say it."
"I almost didn't tell you." Her voice was steady but her hands were not.
"When Lena came to find you — I had told her to stay in the laundry room.
She wasn't supposed to go near you." She paused.
"I was afraid.
I thought if I said anything, Valentina would do what she threatened.
I thought you might not believe me.
I thought—" She stopped.
"What did you think?"
"I thought I was just staff." She said it plainly, without self-pity.
"I thought what happened to me didn't count enough to matter."
Lorenzo was quiet for a moment.
"It counted," he said.
Sophia looked at the floor.
"Lena decided for me," she said softly.
"She just ran.
I didn't even know she'd gone until I heard her voice in the foyer." A small sound escaped her — not quite a laugh, not quite a sob.
"Six years old."
"She was very brave."
"She was terrified." Sophia looked up.
"She did it anyway."
Lorenzo glanced toward the sleeping child.
The small hand tucked under her chin.
The dark braid loose against the pillow.
"I need your formal statement," he said.
"Everything you heard.
The phone call.
Valentina's exact words.
The threat about Lena." He paused.
"Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"My attorney will be with you.
You won't be alone in the room."
"All right."
He picked up the folded jacket from the chair and held it out to her.
She took it.
"Thank you," she said.
"For the jacket.
Yesterday."
"It's a jacket," Lorenzo said.
"It was more than that." She met his eyes.
"You put it on my shoulders in front of her.
You didn't have to do it that way."
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately.
He thought about the moment.
The water dripping from her hair.
Valentina watching with that flash of jealousy in her eyes.
The choice to remove his jacket and place it around Sophia's shoulders rather than simply handing it across.
He hadn't thought about it at the time.
He had simply done it.
"Get some rest if you can," he said.
"The investigators will want to speak with you at ten."
He turned to go.
"Mr.
Moretti."
He looked back.
Sophia hesitated.
"The roses," she said.
"On the foyer floor.
I asked one of the staff to collect them last night.
I didn't want them left there." She paused.
"I put them in water.
They're in the kitchen."
Lorenzo looked at her.
"I didn't know what else to do with them," she said quietly.
He nodded once.
"Thank you, Sophia."
He walked back down the corridor.
At the top of the stairs he stopped.
He stood there for a moment with his hand on the railing, looking down at the foyer below — the polished marble, the morning light, the empty space where the roses had been scattered.
Then he went downstairs.
In the kitchen, on the counter beside the window, two dozen white roses stood in a tall glass vase.
Some of the stems were bent.
A few petals had fallen on the counter around the base.
But most of them had held.
May you like
He stood there looking at them for longer than he intended.
Then he went to meet his attorney.
