Page 15 of Secrets of the Brother
Friendly, code for either bribable or vulnerable to blackmail.
No one said anything for several moments.
I stared at the file on the desk as if it would suddenly sprout teeth and claws and jump up and bite me.
Taking a deep breath, I broke the silence. “Was she pregnant?”
Papà frowned as he repeated my question. “Was she pregnant?”
I raised my chin toward the file. “Renata. Was she pregnant?”
Papà opened the file and scanned the coroner’s report. Finally he looked up at me. I could tell by the look in his eyes, even before he spoke. “No, son. There is no evidence she was ever pregnant.”
I threw my head back and laughed. The sound bitter and brittle.
All of this damage and destruction and she was never even pregnant. The sonograms and doctors' notes must have all been faked by Renata, just as I had begun to suspect.
Uncle Benedict exchanged a look with Papà. “Time for Plan B.”
Cesare looked between them both. “Want to clue us in on Plan B?”
Uncle Benedict responded. “Matteo and I will leave for the north tonight and take Enzo with us. Worst case scenario, if charges are filed, Enzo will be able to slip over the border into Switzerland before they find him. There won’t be a trail. We have loyal friends who will meet him on the other side.”
Cesare cursed under his breath. He paced away and then pivoted back. “This is insane. He’d be a fugitive. He could never return to Italian soil. Papà, you can’t be seriously considering this?”
“It might be our only option.”
Cesare continued to object. “Bullshit. You weathered the scandal over Mom’s death. And we all know you….”
He left the rest unspoken.
There was no need to say it out loud. We all knew my father was responsible for my mother's death.
“That was different. Your mother was sick and dying. Renata was….”
I spoke softly. “Beaten to death.”
Everyone turned to stare at me.
Uncle Benedict drained his glass and set it down. “It’s settled. We’ll wait until the guests leave. Enzo, pack as little as possible. We don’t want to raise any warning flags.”
I inhaled deeply. “I’m not going.”
My father faced me. “Son—”
I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “I’m not going, and that’s final.”
I had already caused my family enough pain with my choices and mistakes. I wasn’t about to compound it by making another one. They would be under constant suspicion if I became a fugitive. I couldn’t allow that. I would face the consequences of my actions.
I took a final sip and set my glass aside. Buttoning my suit jacket, I nodded to the men in the room. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have been neglecting my guests.”
* * *
As I walkeddown the deserted hall, I couldn’t help thinking, not one of them asked if I had killed her.
Over this entire long, excruciating week, from the moment they found my wife’s body, through the frenzied cover-up and funeral preparations, to this moment, not one of them—not my father, not my brother, not my uncle or my cousin—not one of them had asked if I had actually killed Renata.
They all just assumed I had blood on my hands.
