Chapter 7 - THE THESIS SOMEONE TRIED TO BURY
Eight years earlier, Sadi had written an unpublished graduate paper on missing devotional paintings from Sicily.
Her professor called it promising.
A journal rejected it.
Then another.
Eventually she graduated.
Student debt arrived.
Life moved on.
Now she understood why one journal rejection had felt strange.
The editor originally expressed strong interest.
Then suddenly claimed the provenance argument was “insufficiently grounded.”
Sadi pulled old emails.
One name appeared in the copied correspondence.
Consultant:
ARTHUR PRICE.
Her stomach turned.
Price had reviewed her paper.
He recognized that her research could identify one of the works he was already trafficking.
So he killed the publication.
Not illegally.
Not dramatically.
He simply told the journal her claims were unreliable.
A twenty-two-year-old graduate student lost against a famous dealer.
She never knew a fight happened.
Roman stared at the emails.
“You were right eight years ago.”
Sadi laughed bitterly.
“And everybody told me the degree was useless.”
Roman leaned back.
“What do you want to do?”
She looked at him.
“Publish.”
He nodded.
Not revenge.
Not threaten Arthur.
Not buy the journal.
Publish.
This time under her own name.
Sadi worked with university researchers and investigators to reconstruct the provenance properly.
Her new article became part scholarship, part recovered-history study.
It documented how minor religious artworks disappeared into private networks.
No mafia sensationalism.
No romance.
Evidence.
A respected journal accepted it.
When the email arrived, Sadi read it three times.
Then cried in Ilvento's walk-in refrigerator because apparently emotional breakdowns required refrigeration.
Richard found her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You're sitting beside lobsters.”
“My paper got accepted.”
Richard blinked.
“What paper?”
She laughed through tears.
Exactly.
Outside, Roman waited after her shift.
She handed him the email.
He read it.
Then smiled.
Proud.
Not possessive.
“You did it.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I did it eight years ago.”
Roman looked at her.
“This time someone listened.”
That distinction broke her.
She hugged him.
First.
Roman froze.
Then carefully put his arms around her.
No kiss.
Not yet.
Two weeks later, investigators arrested Carlo Moretti.
No shootout.
No dramatic airport chase.
He had been hiding at a private house outside Milwaukee.
Arthur Price accepted a plea arrangement in exchange for helping recover dozens of works.
Several paintings returned to European churches and museums.
The Rossi businesses paid massive penalties.
Roman lost two shipping licenses.
One entire freight division closed.
Older family members called him weak.
He told them they were welcome to retire.
Most did.
Then Roman did something nobody expected.
He publicly acknowledged his father's involvement.
Not every crime.
Only documented facts.
Enough.
Rossi Holdings separated fully from the family structure.
Independent board.
External compliance.
Roman retained ownership.
Not absolute control.
When a reporter asked whether this weakened him, Roman answered:
“Probably.”
Then:
“That's the point.”
Sadi watched on television.
Her mother called immediately afterward.
“I saw Roman.”
Sadi waited.
“And your article.”
Another pause.
“I didn't know you were that good.”
The sentence hurt.
Sadi closed her eyes.
“You could've asked.”
Her mother went quiet.
“I know.”
May you like
Not enough.
But a beginning.
