Chapter 6 - SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS COULD NOT BUY THE TRUTH
Lucia's next medical appointment came on a rainy Tuesday.
Giana had asked for the morning off.
Her brother, Luca, offered to drive.
She hesitated.
Their relationship had improved since he admitted taking money from Enzo, but trust had not returned simply because he'd begun seeking help.
He had been attending counseling, following a financial repayment plan, and taking legitimate contracting jobs that did not involve Bianke-connected companies.
He no longer asked Giana to cover his gambling debts.
But some days she still found herself wondering whether he was telling the truth.
That was one of the consequences of repeated dishonesty.
Even honest answers began to sound uncertain.
Luca noticed her hesitation.
“You can say no.”
She looked at him.
He continued.
“I'll understand.”
That helped.
“Yes,” Giana said.
“You can drive.”
They took Lucia to the hospital together.
During the appointment, they discussed her recent symptoms, medication difficulties, and the problems she'd been having with prescription costs.
The care team reviewed her treatment and connected the family with a social worker who could help investigate insurance appeals, manufacturer assistance, and other available resources.
Lucia finally admitted she'd been reducing some prescribed doses without medical advice because she was frightened of the cost.
The clinician explained why changing her treatment on her own could be unsafe and worked with her to establish an appropriate plan.
Giana listened.
Took notes.
Asked questions.
For weeks, she'd been carrying the fear that her mother was becoming sicker because she simply couldn't afford to remain well.
Now, at least, they had a plan for obtaining the prescribed treatment and seeking assistance.
It did not cure Lucia's lupus.
Nothing about their lives suddenly became easy.
But the appointment gave them something they had been missing.
Information.
A way forward.
And help that did not depend on a mafia boss deciding to become generous.
That evening, Sergio called Giana through Elena.
He wanted to discuss the seven-thousand-dollar offer.
Giana almost refused the call.
Then curiosity won.
Elena joined the conversation.
Sergio began awkwardly.
“I made you a promise in front of witnesses.”
Giana closed her eyes.
“Mr. Bianke.”
“Sergio.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I offered you seven thousand dollars to speak Neapolitan.”
“You did.”
“You fulfilled the condition.”
“By telling you cruelty was shameful.”
“Yes.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Sergio said:
“If you want the money, I will honor the offer without asking anything further from you.”
Giana stared at the phone.
Seven thousand dollars.
Even now, the amount felt enormous.
It could reduce their immediate financial pressure.
Give Lucia breathing room.
Buy Giana time to prepare for her nursing examinations.
For a moment, she wanted to accept.
Not because she thought Sergio was entitled to reward her.
Because rent and medical expenses were real.
Then she thought about the way he'd made the offer.
The laughter.
The men at the table.
The expectation that the waitress would perform because a wealthy man had discovered how much she needed money.
She took a breath.
“I don't want seven thousand dollars for repeating something my grandmother taught me.”
Sergio said nothing.
Giana continued.
“But I also don't want you walking away from this thinking that refusing your money proves I don't need it.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I don't think you do.”
“I needed that money so badly I almost let your friends laugh at me.”
“I nearly agreed to say anything just to keep my mother from having to choose between medication and rent.”
Sergio remained silent.
“Being poor doesn't make your joke harmless.”
“And it doesn't make my refusal easy.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the kitchen, where Lucia was sorting the appointment papers.
Then added:
“If you genuinely want to do something about what happened, make sure your company pays the people it owes.”
“Not just my family.”
“Everyone.”
Sergio exhaled.
“That is already part of the review.”
“Good.”
“Giana?”
“Yes?”
“I am sorry for making your financial situation part of my entertainment.”
For the first time, she believed he understood the apology he was making.
“Thank you.”
Then she ended the call.
She sat quietly for several minutes.
Had she made the financially sensible choice?
Maybe not.
She could have accepted the money without owing Sergio anything.
Her attorney had made that clear.
But the choice belonged to her.
And that mattered more than proving to anyone that she was too proud to accept help.
Three weeks later, Elena called with news.
The independent accountants had completed a preliminary reconciliation of the old maritime fund.
They had identified numerous cases where employees or their surviving families had received less assistance than the records indicated they should have.
Some claims involved Pietro's former coworkers.
Others concerned employees Giana had never heard of.
The investigation also identified financial flows involving Enzo-controlled entities.
The amounts were substantial.
The legal process would take time.
Not every disputed payment would necessarily be recoverable.
But there was enough evidence to initiate formal recovery and restitution proceedings.
Giana's family was among those eligible to submit documentation for review.
Elena explained the process.
Giana listened carefully.
Then asked:
“If Mom receives money that should have been paid after Dad died, would that be charity?”
Elena's voice softened.
“No.”
“Assuming the claim is established, it would be an amount owed under the applicable arrangements or resolved through the claims process.”
Giana closed her eyes.
For years, she'd been afraid that any money connected to Bianke Maritime would come with an invisible condition.
Now the question was different.
Not whether Sergio liked her.
Not whether her grandmother had once helped his mother.
Not whether he'd been embarrassed by his behavior at Belladonna.
The question was whether her father and other workers had been denied what they were entitled to receive.
Giana opened the application.
And began gathering the records.
May you like
For the first time, asking for financial assistance did not feel like asking a powerful man to decide whether she deserved to survive.
It felt like insisting that an obligation be examined honestly.
