Chapter 10 - The Secret Sophie Never Knew|
Sophie refused to sleep until she had answers.
At midnight, she sat across from Massimo in the office, surrounded by copies of the documents they had recovered. The accusation about her father had unsettled her more than the threats.
“My father wasn't a criminal,” she said.
“I didn't say he was.”
“Someone paid him.”
“Someone claims they paid him.”
“That's not the same thing.”
Massimo leaned forward.
“Then let's find out.”
They searched the foundation's old records and discovered that Sophie's father had received a series of payments from a legal assistance fund shortly before Margaret's death.
The amounts were modest. They could have covered rent, medical bills, and childcare.
But the transfers had been authorized by Vittorio.
Sophie stared at the records.
“My father was a mechanic. He worked nights. We barely had enough money for groceries. I always thought he was struggling because he was raising me alone.”
“He may have been.”
“Or he accepted money to stay quiet.”
Massimo did not try to reassure her.
They called a retired accountant who had worked with the foundation. The woman remembered Margaret and Daniel Reed, but she refused to discuss the payments until Massimo provided legal protection.
When the call ended, Sophie felt sick.
“Everyone has secrets.”
“Most people have reasons for keeping them.”
“Are you defending my father?”
“No. I'm defending the truth.”
She studied him.
“Did you know about the payments?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you had?”
“Yes.”
The answer came so quickly that she believed him.
The next morning, the retired accountant agreed to meet them in a café outside the city. She brought copies of old transfer records and a sealed letter written by Margaret shortly before her death.
Sophie opened it with trembling fingers.
Her mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
My darling Sophie, if you ever read this, it means I failed to keep every promise I made to you. I need you to know that your father loved you. He made mistakes, but he never stopped trying to protect you.
The letter described the foundation's corruption and the danger Daniel Reed faced after discovering it. Margaret had asked Sophie's father to hide evidence and keep Sophie away from the Romano family.
The payments had not been hush money.
They had been protection money, disguised as charitable assistance.
Sophie pressed the letter against her chest.
“He wasn't selling my mother out.”
Massimo shook his head.
“He was trying to keep you safe.”
The relief brought tears she had spent years refusing to shed.
Then she reached the final paragraph.
If anything happens to me, find Clara. She knows where the original ledger is. But be careful. The person who betrayed us is closer to the family than anyone suspects.
A name had been written beneath the paragraph.
Vittorio Romano.
Sophie looked up.
“Your uncle did this.”
Massimo's face became stone.
“I will prove it.”
“Not by killing him.”
He stared at her.
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
For a long moment, they faced each other across the table.
Finally, Massimo nodded.
“Evidence first. Justice after.”
Sophie exhaled.
It was the first time she had heard him say justice without treating it as another word for revenge.
As they left the café, the retired accountant handed Sophie a small envelope.
“Your mother wanted you to have this if the truth ever came out.”
Inside was a photograph of two little girls holding hands.
Sophie recognized herself immediately.
The other girl was Clara.
On the back, her mother had written:
One day, you will find each other. Don't let anyone convince you that blood is the only thing that makes a family. Love does that, too.
Sophie smiled through her tears.
Then Massimo's phone rang.
Rafael's voice came through, strained and urgent.
“Boss, Vittorio has called an emergency trust vote. He's accusing you of using the florist to manipulate family assets.”
Massimo closed his eyes briefly.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Sophie folded the letter carefully.
“Then we don't have much time.”
May you like
Massimo looked at her.
“No,” he said. “We don't.”
