Chapter 4 - MY UNCLE’S SMILE
Dominic Moretti arrived at my office the next morning smiling.
That was how I knew he was afraid.
He only smiled when he wanted everyone else comfortable.
“Roman.”
“Dominic.”
He sat without permission.
“You’ve been busy.”
“So have you.”
I placed one pension statement between us.
His eyes dropped.
Then returned.
No visible reaction.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
“Looks like accounting.”
“Twenty-eight million dollars of accounting.”
He sighed.
“Is Elena filling your head with old accusations?”
There it was.
Not denial.
Discredit her.
“She found this seven years ago.”
“She found transactions she didn’t understand.”
“She was twenty-seven and working in accounting.”
“Temporary clerk.”
“She was good enough to scare you.”
His smile disappeared.
“Careful.”
Old Roman would have enjoyed that word.
New Roman heard it differently.
Threat.
Control.
Hierarchy.
My uncle had been teaching me his language my whole life.
“Did you threaten my daughter?”
He stared.
So still it almost answered for him.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Roman.”
“You told Elena I would die if she stayed.”
“I protected you.”
My blood turned to ice.
He realized the admission.
Too late.
“You admit speaking to her.”
“I admit nothing.”
“You just did.”
He leaned forward.
“You were twenty-nine. Your father had been dead less than a year. Half the city wanted your head.”
“So you erased my child?”
“I removed a vulnerability.”
I stood.
Dominic stood too.
For a second, I saw seven years of my daughter’s life disappearing into his definition.
Vulnerability.
Not Sofia.
Not a baby.
A weakness to be managed.
“You forged the letter.”
He didn’t answer.
“You blocked her calls.”
Silence.
“Did you kill my father?”
His face changed.
Finally.
Not fear.
Offense.
“You think I would kill my own brother?”
“I think you stole pensions from men who trusted him.”
His jaw tightened.
“That money kept this family stable.”
“It bought your properties.”
“It funded operations.”
“You stole it.”
“Don’t become sentimental because a sick woman returned.”
I moved so quickly he flinched.
I stopped myself inches away.
Not because he deserved restraint.
Because Sofia did.
I stepped back.
Dominic smiled again.
“You’ve gone soft.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I’ve gone public.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“Independent auditors already have the accounts.”
Silence.
“Outside counsel has copies.”
His skin paled.
“And prosecutors will have them by afternoon.”
“You stupid—”
“Careful.”
I gave his word back to him.
Dominic stared.
Then laughed.
“You think law enforcement will separate your sins from mine?”
“No.”
That shook him.
I continued.
“If they ask what I did, I answer.”
“You’ll destroy everything your father built.”
“My father built a family.”
I pointed at the statement.
“You built theft inside it.”
Dominic left.
Three hours later, his lawyer called.
Then two board members resigned.
Then one of our warehouses suddenly experienced a “computer failure.”
Records disappearing.
Too late.
Copies existed.
Elena had taught me that.
Never keep truth in one place.
That afternoon, I moved Elena and Sofia.
Not secretly from Elena.
With permission.
A serviced apartment near her treatment center.
Two bedrooms.
No fortress.
No mansion.
She chose it.
I arranged security outside.
She complained.
“You have three men downstairs.”
“Two.”
“I counted three.”
“The third works for the building.”
“He looks like he breaks fingers.”
“That is judgmental.”
She almost smiled.
Sofia loved the elevator.
That mattered more.
That night, Elena could not sleep.
Treatment made her nauseated.
I sat in the kitchen while Sofia slept.
“You can go home,” Elena said.
“I am home.”
She stared.
I corrected myself.
“I don’t know what that means anymore.”
Silence.
Then she said:
“You have a house.”
“Several.”
“That is the most Roman answer possible.”
I laughed softly.
She poured water.
“Do you hate me?”
The question stunned me.
“For what?”
“Not finding you.”
“Elena.”
“I could have tried harder.”
“You were pregnant and threatened.”
“I could have gone to police.”
“About the Morettis?”
She raised an eyebrow.
Fair.
“You saved her.”
I nodded toward Sofia’s room.
“That was the only job.”
Her eyes filled.
“You missed everything.”
“Yes.”
“First steps.”
“Yes.”
“First word.”
“What was it?”
Elena smiled.
“Dog.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
“Exactly.”
I thought of all the missing firsts.
Then asked:
“Can I have the next ones?”
Elena’s expression changed.
Not romantic.
Something deeper.
“If you earn them.”
Fair.
The following morning, Sofia woke me by dropping a stuffed rabbit on my face.
“Roman.”
“What?”
“Mommy says you sleep like a dead bear.”
From the kitchen, Elena shouted:
“I did not say dead.”
Sofia whispered:
“She said tired bear.”
I sat up.
“Why are you awake?”
“I have school.”
I stared.
Of course.
She had a life.
School.
Teacher.
Homework.
Friends.
Things beyond my crisis.
“I can take you.”
She frowned.
“In the black scary car?”
“Probably.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Everybody will look.”
I paused.
“What do you want?”
“Bus.”
I had not been on a city bus in fifteen years.
Forty minutes later, the feared Roman Moretti stood beside his six-year-old daughter at a Queens bus stop holding a pink backpack.
Marco watched from across the street.
He took a photograph.
I texted:
Delete that.
He replied:
Never.
Sofia held my hand while the bus approached.
It was the first time she had done that.
I didn’t breathe until she let go.
At school, she looked back.
“Roman?”
“Yes?”
“Are you coming tomorrow?”
The question hit harder than any accusation about seven lost years.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She ran inside.
I stood on the sidewalk staring after her.
And understood something Dominic never had.
Love didn’t make me weaker.
May you like
It gave me a reason to stop living like fear was the only language powerful men understood.
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