Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN WHO WATCHED US FALL IN LOVE
Maria had been part of my life longer than almost anyone.
She'd packed my suitcase for college.
Helped care for my father during his final illness.
Prepared Alina's favorite soup when she had the flu.
I had trusted her completely.
“Why?”
My voice was quieter than shouting.
Maria cried harder.
“I didn't know what Samuel intended.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That Mrs. Moretti loved you.”
Alina stared.
“How would you know?”
Maria looked at her almost tenderly.
“Because you waited up whenever his plane landed late.”
Alina looked away.
“You replaced his shirts because you noticed the collars bothered his neck.”
I remembered.
I'd assumed my assistant had done that.
“You learned Italian because his grandmother sometimes forgot English.”
Alina's eyes filled.
I hadn't known that either.
Maria turned toward me.
“And you love her.”
I didn't deny it.
“You stood outside the kitchen for ten minutes the first time she baked bread because you didn't want to interrupt her singing.”
Alina looked at me.
I wanted the floor to open.
Luca muttered, “This is becoming uncomfortable.”
Nobody listened.
Maria continued.
“You started leaving work before midnight after she moved in.”
My wife stared at me.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I answered simply.
“Because you were home.”
Her eyes filled completely.
Maria covered her mouth.
“I told Samuel because he asked whether the marriage had become real. He said Vittorio wanted to know before he died.”
“My father was already dead.”
“I didn't know that at the time he first asked.”
Sofia frowned.
“How long has Samuel been questioning you?”
“Years.”
My anger returned.
Maria pulled out her phone.
“I saved messages.”
Investigators immediately took copies.
Samuel had carefully extracted information.
Our routines.
Alina's fears.
My schedule.
Even whether we'd discussed children.
Then one message stood out.
If she believes Dante will sacrifice his future for her, she will leave voluntarily.
Alina looked ill.
I suddenly understood the design.
No kidnapping.
No public scandal.
No obvious threat.
Just emotional sabotage.
Convince my wife she was destroying my future.
Convince me she had never loved me.
Let us destroy the marriage ourselves.
“Who told Samuel I was preparing divorce papers?” I asked.
Maria shook her head.
“I didn't know.”
Luca went still.
We both looked at him.
“What?” I asked.
He cursed.
“Your assistant.”
My executive assistant, Adrian Cole.
He coordinated appointments with Samuel.
He knew I had asked for divorce documents.
I called immediately.
No answer.
Security went to his apartment.
Empty.
His company laptop had been wiped.
Then my phone received an email.
From Adrian.
One attachment.
A photograph of Samuel Klein standing beside my father in a hospital room seven years earlier.
My father looked weak.
Samuel leaned close.
The next photograph showed Samuel holding a document for him to sign.
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Below the photos Adrian had written:
Vittorio Moretti did not die from natural causes.
