Chapter 15 - The Grave
David survived.
Barely.
Dr. Moretti operated for three hours.
I did not know what I felt about that.
Relief.
Anger.
Grief for a marriage that had died long before the man did.
Alessandro stood beside me in the clinic hallway.
Neither of us mentioned what Sofia’s note had said.
Do not trust the brother who remained.
It sat between us anyway.
At dawn, Rosa finally spoke.
She did know about Lucia.
Not everything.
Enough.
“Lucia survived the night Matteo disappeared,” she said.
“She was injured.”
“Sofia took both boys out.”
“Then Lucia returned to distract the attackers.”
“She was taken.”
“Why did my father tell me she died?”
Alessandro’s voice was ice.
“He believed she did.”
“Her body was identified.”
“By Vittorio.”
That name again.
Alessandro turned away.
“So my uncle identified a false body.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody questioned it.”
“Your father was drowning in grief.”
Rosa looked ashamed.
“We were all afraid.”
I asked the question Alessandro could not.
“Did Lucia live for long?”
Rosa’s eyes filled.
“Years.”
The room went silent.
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“Years.”
“Yes.”
“Sofia discovered it later.”
“She tried to reach her.”
“Bellandi kept moving Lucia between properties.”
“Why keep her alive?”
“Because she knew where Sofia had hidden Matteo.”
I touched the empty chain around my neck.
“And the Green Eye?”
Rosa nodded.
“Lucia created it.”
“She documented Vittorio’s betrayal.”
“Names.”
“Accounts.”
“Proof.”
“She gave the records to Sofia.”
“The ring was the key to where the original evidence was stored.”
“Why my grandmother?”
“Because Sofia was the only person Lucia trusted completely.”
We went to the cemetery that afternoon.
My grandmother’s grave sat beneath an old maple tree.
I had not visited in almost a year.
Guilt pressed heavily against my ribs.
David said he put the ring back with her.
Enzo arranged for a legal exhumation under a sealed order.
I hated every second.
When the casket was opened, I turned away.
Then the technician spoke.
“Mr. Vitale.”
I looked.
The casket was empty.
No body.
No remains.
Nothing.
Only a small velvet box rested where my grandmother should have been.
Inside was the emerald ring.
And beneath it, a fresh piece of paper.
Fresh.
Not four years old.
I picked it up with shaking fingers.
Three words were written in Sofia’s handwriting.
MARA, I’M SORRY.
My knees nearly gave out.
Alessandro caught me.
I stared at the empty coffin.
May you like
My grandmother had not died.
Sofia Hale was alive.
