Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO WORE RED BEFORE ME
Three weeks before the gala, a woman arrived at Vincenzo's asking for me.
She was tall, elegant, and probably in her early forties.
Her dark hair was pinned neatly behind her head.
She wore a cream-colored coat and carried a leather handbag that looked expensive enough to pay my rent for a year.
"Clara Bennett?"
I nodded.
"My name is Isabella Rossi."
I waited.
"I knew your father."
By then, I was beginning to suspect half of Miami had known my father.
"How?"
She glanced around.
"Can we speak somewhere private?"
I took her to a quiet booth near the back.
She ordered tea.
Then placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a younger Isabella wearing a red evening gown.
Beside her stood Daniel Bennett.
My father.
He looked happy.
I stared at the image.
"Who are you?"
"I worked for Lorenzo Moretti."
"Doing what?"
"Legal administration."
She hesitated.
"Your father and I were helping Lorenzo prepare evidence against Salvatore."
"Why the dress?"
Isabella looked down.
"That photograph was taken at a charity gala. Lorenzo believed Salvatore would make a mistake there."
My pulse quickened.
"A gala?"
"Yes."
"Like the one Enzo is planning?"
She nodded.
I leaned back.
The room seemed to shift around me.
"Did something happen that night?"
Isabella's expression darkened.
"Lorenzo received a warning. Someone told him Daniel had been compromised."
"Was he?"
"No."
"Then who sent the warning?"
"We never found out."
She opened her handbag.
Inside was a small envelope.
"I've kept this for eleven years."
She pushed it toward me.
"My name was on the guest list that night. Beside it, Lorenzo had written three words."
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old seating chart.
Beside Isabella's name were the words:
Keep beside me.
I stared at them.
The same words Enzo had written beside mine.
"Why?"
Isabella's eyes filled.
"Because Lorenzo knew someone was watching me. He thought keeping me close would protect me."
"What happened?"
"Someone changed the seating arrangement."
My heart began pounding.
"Who?"
"Salvatore."
She looked at me.
"By the time Lorenzo realized, I had been taken outside."
I swallowed.
"What did they do?"
"They threatened me. Made me sign a statement accusing Daniel of theft."
"Did you?"
She nodded.
"I was terrified."
"Then why are you telling me now?"
"Because I saw the anniversary announcement. And I recognized the pattern."
I stared at the photograph of the red dress.
Suddenly, it no longer looked beautiful.
It looked like a warning.
"Does Enzo know about you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I wasn't sure I could trust him."
I understood that.
I wasn't sure either.
Not completely.
But I was beginning to want to.
When Isabella left, I went upstairs.
Enzo was reviewing contracts.
He looked up.
"Clara?"
I placed the old guest list on his desk.
His face changed.
"Where did you get this?"
"Isabella Rossi."
He stared at the paper.
Then closed his eyes.
"She came here?"
"Yes."
"Did she tell you what happened?"
"Enough."
I crossed my arms.
"Why didn't you tell me the words on my guest list came from your father's?"
Enzo looked at me.
"Because I didn't know."
I searched his face.
He seemed genuinely shaken.
"My father used to say that keeping someone close was the only way to protect them," he said quietly.
I looked down at the paper.
"And did it work?"
Enzo's silence answered me.
For the first time, I understood that his protectiveness was not simply a habit.
It was an inheritance.
May you like
A fear passed from father to son.
And if neither of us was careful, history might repeat itself.
