Chapter 3
Helena entered the dining room as if she still owned the floor beneath her feet.
That was her gift.
Even terrified, she knew how to arrange her face into insulted beauty.
She had changed clothes.
Of course she had.
Cream silk was gone. Now she wore black, simple and expensive, like a widow at a funeral. Her blond hair was pinned low. Her cheek was still red from my slap, and she made sure everyone could see it.
Rosa stood near the sideboard, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.
Father Matteo sat at the table with his old black coat folded over one arm. He was not a priest anymore, not officially. But in my world, men still lowered their voices when he entered a room.
He had known my father.
He had blessed my marriage to Sofia.
He had held Leo the day he was born.
Helena looked around the room.
Marco.
Luca.
Enzo.
Two guards.
Rosa.
Father Matteo.
Then me.
She laughed once.
A thin, ugly sound.
“What is this? A trial?”
“Yes,” I said.
Her smile disappeared.
“You cannot be serious.”
I stood at the head of the table. I did not sit because sitting would have felt too gentle.
Behind me, the wall screen glowed black.
Helena noticed it.
Her throat moved.
“I want my lawyer.”
“You will have one.”
“I want to leave.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You are keeping me prisoner?”
I looked at Luca.
He opened the dining room doors.
Beyond them, the front hall was clear.
“No one is stopping you from walking out,” I said. “But if you leave before we finish, you leave with nothing but the clothes you chose for this performance.”
Her mouth tightened.
“My clothes? My jewelry? My accounts?”
“My lawyers froze every card tied to Bellucci money fifteen minutes ago.”
She stared.
“You had no right.”
“You had no right to starve my son.”
Rosa made a small broken sound.
Helena turned on her.
“Oh, stop acting. You knew he was dramatic.”
Rosa lifted her head.
For the first time since I had known her, anger cut through her fear.
“He is a baby.”
Helena rolled her eyes.
“He is spoiled because all of you treat him like a prince.”
I touched the remote.
The screen lit up.
The garage footage began.
Helena’s face turned hard.
We all watched in silence as she pushed the cloth into Leo’s hands. We watched him scrub. We watched him stop to rub his eyes. We watched her tip water across his knees.
When her voice came through the speakers, Rosa started crying.
“You want lunch, don’t you?”
Father Matteo crossed himself.
Helena folded her arms.
“You edited this.”
I played the next clip.
The nursery hallway.
“You get dinner when you stop asking for your father.”
Helena’s eyes widened.
“That is out of context.”
I played the next.
The kitchen.
“Children who steal eat with dogs.”
Her mask cracked.
“I never made him eat anything from the trash.”
“No,” I said. “You only wanted him to believe he deserved to.”
I played the last one.
The ring.
Her hand placing it under the cushion.
Her own voice screaming my name.
The room went silent after that.
Even the house seemed to hold its breath.
I turned slowly.
Helena’s face was pale.
“That was a joke,” she whispered.
“A joke.”
“A lesson. He was becoming attached to objects. Sofia spoiled him.”
The name hit the room like a match.
I stepped forward.
“Do not say her name.”
Helena’s eyes filled with sudden tears.
Fake ones.
She could summon them faster than most people could blink.
“I loved you,” she said. “I tried to be a mother to him, but he hated me. He always looked at me like I was nothing. Everyone in this house worships a dead woman. I was invisible.”
Father Matteo spoke for the first time.
“So you made a child invisible instead.”
Helena glared at him.
“You don’t know what it is like to marry into this family.”
Rosa wiped her face.
“You married a man with a little boy.”
Helena snapped her head toward Rosa.
“And you loved reminding me he had a mother before me.”
Rosa’s voice shook.
“I reminded him he was loved.”
Helena laughed bitterly.
“There it is. That saint Sofia. Perfect Sofia. Dead Sofia.”
I crossed the room so fast Luca moved with me.
Helena stepped back.
I stopped inches from her.
“You were jealous of a woman in a grave and a child who missed her.”
She swallowed.
“I wanted a place here.”
“You had one.”
“No,” she hissed. “I had your name. Your dinners. Your bed. But not your heart. Not the house. Not the staff. Not him.”
She pointed toward the hallway where Leo was not even present.
“He cried for you every night. He ruined every moment. He made me feel like a visitor in my own marriage.”
“He is three.”
“He is her son.”
My control almost broke.
Luca put one hand near my arm but did not touch me.
I breathed once.
Then I turned away from Helena because if I kept looking at her, I would forget the law I was trying to honor for my son’s sake.
“Rosa,” I said.
She straightened.
“Tell me why you didn’t come to me.”
Her face crumpled.
“Signore, I tried.”
My head snapped toward her.
“When?”
“Three times. The first time, she told me you were in meetings. The second time, she said I was confused and old. The third time…”
Rosa looked at Helena.
“She said my grandson’s address was easy to find.”
The room changed.
Luca cursed under his breath.
Helena’s lips parted.
“That is a lie.”
Rosa pulled something from her apron pocket.
A folded note.
Her hands shook as she gave it to Luca. He read it, then handed it to me.
It was short.
Messy.
Cruel.
Keep your mouth shut, or little Mateo walks home alone.
Mateo was Rosa’s eight-year-old grandson.
I looked at Helena.
For the first time, her confidence truly vanished.
“You threatened a child to silence a grandmother.”
“She made that note herself.”
I looked at Enzo.
“Handwriting?”
He took it.
“I can have it checked.”
“No need.”
A small voice came from the doorway.
Every head turned.
Leo stood there in blue pajamas, holding Sofia’s old stuffed bear.
Rosa gasped.
I moved toward him.
“Leo, you should be resting.”
He looked past me at Helena.
“She wrote it with the purple pen.”
Helena froze.
Leo’s eyes stayed on her.
“The shiny purple one from her purse.”
I crouched in front of him.
“You saw that?”
He nodded.
“She said Rosa talks too much.”
Helena took a step toward him.
“You little liar.”
I stood between them.
“Say one more word to him.”
She stopped.
Leo hid behind my leg, clutching my trousers.
I picked him up.
He tucked his head against my shoulder.
I looked at the room.
“Enough.”
Helena’s voice cracked.
“What are you going to do?”
I looked at Father Matteo.
He nodded once, grave and sad.
Then I looked at my wife.
“I am going to remove you from my house, my name, and my son’s life.”
She shook her head.
May you like
“You can’t erase me.”
“No,” I said. “But by tomorrow, you will wish I had.”
