Chapter 15
Vittorio’s trial began in summer.
He wore a dark suit and carried himself like the courtroom was beneath him.
Then Mia’s crayon contract appeared in the evidence timeline.
Not as evidence of crime.
As evidence of what he had tried to destroy.
The prosecutor used Matteo’s videos.
Financial records.
Silvio’s testimony.
DeLuca’s testimony.
My testimony.
Vittorio watched me with disgust.
“You were my son,” he said during a recess.
I looked at him.
“No. I was your project.”
His jaw tightened.
“You will regret dismantling us.”
“I regret not doing it sooner.”
Lena testified on the fourth day.
Vittorio’s attorney tried to make her sound ambitious.
A maid chasing money.
A mother using a powerful man.
She listened.
Then said, “If I wanted power, I would have handed Mia over the first time they asked. I chose poverty because it let my daughter sleep beside me.”
The jury believed her.
So did I.
More than that, I admired her.
Mia did not attend court.
She spent those days with Rosa, learning to make sauce and bossing Rafael about his sling.
On the final day, Matteo’s last video played.
“Damiano,” he said, “if you found her, become better than us.”
Vittorio looked away.
The verdict came that evening.
Guilty.
Racketeering.
Conspiracy.
Witness intimidation.
Attempted kidnapping.
Accessory to murder.
A life sentence.
When the judge read it, Vittorio finally looked at me.
Not with regret.
With hatred.
It no longer reached me.
Afterward, I walked outside into summer rain.
Lena stood beside me.
“It’s over?”
“The trial is.”
“And the rest?”
I looked at her.
“The rest we build.”
Mia ran from the waiting car under Rosa’s umbrella.
“Did bad uncle lose?”
Rosa gasped.
“Mia.”
I crouched.
“Yes.”
Mia nodded.
“Good. Can we eat now?”
Lena laughed through tears.
I picked Mia up.
She wrapped her arms around my neck like she had always belonged there.
May you like
Maybe she had.
Maybe I had just arrived late.
