Chapter 8
I crossed the room and pulled Leo into my arms.
“I told you to stay with Camila.”
“I heard Mom’s name.”
His little body shook.
I hated myself for not closing the door.
He looked at the laptop.
“Was that the night?”
“Yes.”
“Did Helena push her?”
I could not lie.
“We don’t know yet.”
He pulled back.
“But you think so.”
I looked at my son.
Eight years old.
Too young for this truth.
Too old for lies.
“Yes,” I said. “I think so.”
He nodded like something inside him had already known.
Then his face changed.
“Dad, Helena said cameras lie.”
“When?”
“When she made me clean the car the first time.”
“How long ago?”
He counted on his fingers.
“After my birthday.”
Three months.
I asked Matteo to bring every garage security backup from the last year.
He hesitated.
“What?”
“Some were deleted.”
“By who?”
“Access log says your code.”
I had not touched those files.
Helena had.
Or someone with my code.
Camila crossed her arms.
“Carmine, we need police.”
I looked at her.
In our world, police were not the first call.
They were the last.
But this was my son.
My dead wife.
My house.
My past.
I picked up the phone and called Detective Aaron Vale.
He had spent ten years trying to put my family away.
When he answered, his voice was cold.
“Romano.”
“I have evidence of child abuse, fraud, and possibly murder.”
Silence.
Then, “Whose?”
“My wife’s.”
Another pause.
“Current or dead?”
May you like
“Both.”
He arrived in eighteen minutes.
