The first twenty minutes passed with ordinary conversation.
Shipping.
Investments.
A political contact who had become unreliable.
A warehouse that needed new management.
Then Alessandro placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Sofia.
Raffaele glanced at it.
For half a second, his fingers stopped moving.
Then he looked up.
"Where did you find this?"
"Interesting question."
"Your sister."
"Do you remember her?"
"Of course."
Alessandro watched him.
"Do you remember the letters she sent?"
Raffaele took a sip of wine.
"She sent letters?"
"Nine."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"It was a long time ago."
Alessandro leaned back.
"Who handled them?"
Raffaele smiled politely.
"I believe I did."
"Did you deliver them to me?"
"No."
"Why?"
Raffaele placed his glass down.
"Because your father instructed me not to."
Alessandro did not move.
"All nine?"
"Yes."
"Did you read them?"
"I had to verify their contents."
"All nine?"
Raffaele's expression remained calm.
"Alessandro, you were a young man. Your father was protecting you."
"From what?"
"From a family matter that had become dangerous."
Alessandro nodded slowly.
"And my mother?"
Raffaele's eyes shifted.
"What about her?"
"Did you deliver her letters too?"
A silence followed.
Raffaele put down his napkin.
"Your mother was a remarkable woman."
"That wasn't my question."
"She was also difficult."
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
"Difficult?"
"She had ideas about how the family should operate. She didn't understand the consequences."
"What consequences?"
Raffaele leaned forward.
"Alessandro, your father made decisions that kept this family alive. Not all of them were pleasant."
"Did you have something to do with my mother's death?"
The question landed quietly.
Raffaele looked at him.
Then he smiled.
A small, disappointed smile.
"Your father has been speaking to you."
Alessandro said nothing.
"He's an old man. He has confused memories. You shouldn't let him poison what remains of your family."
Alessandro studied the man across the table.
For eleven years, he had considered Raffaele a second father.
Now he was watching him carefully, searching for the smallest sign of guilt.
"Do you know what my father told me?"
Raffaele waited.
"He told me that my mother wanted to expose the men who were using our companies without his permission."
Raffaele's smile disappeared.
"He told me Sofia discovered the evidence."
"Your father should have kept his mouth shut."
Alessandro's expression did not change.
There it was.
Not a denial.
Not even an attempt to sound surprised.
Just irritation.
Raffaele rose.
"I think this conversation is finished."
Alessandro remained seated.
"Sit down."
"Don't give me orders."
The room became still.
Raffaele looked toward the doors.
Two guards stood outside.
He understood.
His face changed.
"What do you want?"
"The truth."
"You won't like it."
"Try me."
Raffaele slowly sat.
"Your mother was going to destroy everything. She believed the family could become respectable if we simply stopped doing business with the wrong people. She didn't understand that the wrong people were already inside our walls."
"Who?"
"Men who had invested in us. Men who had protected us. Men who expected something in return."
"And you?"
"I was trying to protect the organization."
"By killing my mother?"
Raffaele's jaw tightened.
"Your mother died in an accident."
Alessandro leaned forward.
"Then why did you say she was going to destroy everything?"
"Because she was."
"Did you arrange the accident?"
Raffaele looked away.
That was his answer.
Alessandro stood.
"Get him out of my house."
The guards entered.
Raffaele rose with them.
He did not struggle.
He only looked at Alessandro.
"You think you're different from your father."
Alessandro said nothing.
"You're not. You have his blood. His name. His empire. And when the time comes, you'll make the same choices."
Alessandro walked closer.
"No."
Raffaele smiled bitterly.
"Then prove it."
The guards escorted him away.
Alessandro remained in the dining room long after the doors closed.
The wine had gone untouched.
***
At 8:40 p.m., Elena found him in the music room.
He stood behind the grand piano, staring at an old photograph of Isabella.
"Sir?"
He turned.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was asked to bring your father his medication."
"Leave it."
She placed the small tray on a nearby table.
Alessandro returned his attention to the piano.
"Did you know my mother?"
Elena shook her head.
"Only through photographs."
"She was beautiful."
"Yes."
He touched the edge of the frame.
"She used to play this piano every Sunday."
Elena looked at the instrument.
"My grandmother said she loved music."
Alessandro nodded.
Then he crouched beside the piano.
He ran his hand along the wooden panel behind it.
A small compartment was hidden beneath the decorative molding.
Inside was a leather-bound notebook.
And a sealed envelope.
He opened the envelope.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My dear Alessandro,
If you are reading this, then I have failed to protect you from the truth.
I am sorry.
Your father is a proud man, but he is not a cruel man. He has spent his life believing that fear is the only thing keeping our family together.
I have tried to make him understand that fear cannot replace love.
Sofia knows what has happened. I have asked her to leave before the men discover what she found.
I wanted to take you with us.
But your father refused.
If something happens to me, do not let this family become the only thing you know how to love.
You are my son.
You were never born to carry the sins of other men.
Love,
Mother.
Alessandro read the letter once.
Then again.
His fingers trembled.
Elena remained silent.
He lowered the page.
"She knew."
Elena looked at him.
"She knew what?"
"That she might die."
He stared at the piano.
"She knew."
For the first time since Elena had met him, Alessandro seemed unable to find the right words.
He folded the letter carefully.
Then he sat on the piano bench.
A long silence passed.
"Do you know what I remember about my mother?"
Elena shook her head.
"She used to leave the hallway light on when I was afraid of the dark. My father thought it made me weak."
He looked down.
"After she died, I stopped sleeping with the light on."
Elena moved closer.
"Why?"
"Because I thought I had to become someone who didn't need anyone."
He gave a faint, broken laugh.
"Look where that got me."
Elena sat on the other end of the bench.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then she said something her grandmother had once told her.
"She said you were the kindest boy she knew."
Alessandro closed his eyes.
"I don't remember being kind."
"Perhaps you stopped noticing."
He looked at her.
"Do you hate this family?"
Elena considered the question.