Chapter 7 - THE CHOICE ROMAN REFUSED TO MAKE
“Paulina!”
My voice echoed down the empty school hallway.
No answer.
Only Father Matteo.
“Gymnasium, Roman.”
Roman’s face had changed.
The anger disappeared.
What replaced it was colder.
He looked at Luca.
“East stairwell.”
Luca nodded.
“At the basement level.”
Mira stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Refusing his choice.”
Roman turned to me.
“I need you to trust me for five minutes.”
I almost laughed.
“Ten years late.”
“I know.”
That stopped me.
He did know.
“No more lies,” I said.
“No more.”
“Even if you think they protect me.”
His jaw tightened.
“No more.”
He handed me the Bellini ledger.
“Keep this.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever happens in that gym, this survives.”
There was my answer.
He had spent ten years choosing danger for me.
Tonight he finally gave me evidence instead of ignorance.
We moved.
Luca disappeared down the east stairwell.
Mira stayed with me.
Roman walked directly toward the gymnasium.
The double doors stood open.
Christmas pageant decorations remained inside.
Paper angels.
A cardboard manger.
Rows of folded chairs.
Paulina sat on the front bleacher.
Her hands were free.
She looked frightened but unhurt.
Beside her stood Father Matteo.
Older than I remembered.
Still straight-backed.
Still wearing a clerical collar.
And beside him—
Vittorio Bellini.
There was no mistake now.
Roman’s father was older.
Thinner.
But alive.
His steel-gray eyes were the eyes Roman inherited.
The eyes Paulina inherited.
Vittorio looked at his son.
“Roman.”
Roman stopped twenty feet away.
“Father.”
Paulina looked between them.
“That’s Grandpa?”
Even then, even terrified, she sounded nine.
Vittorio almost smiled.
“Yes.”
Paulina frowned.
“You’re not very nice.”
Something inside me broke into hysterical laughter.
I clapped one hand over my mouth.
Roman’s eyes flicked toward our daughter.
For half a second, pride softened his face.
Matteo did not find it funny.
“We are not here for family comedy.”
Paulina whispered, “He’s mean too.”
Roman’s mouth twitched.
Then he looked at Matteo.
“Let her go.”
“When we’re finished.”
“There is nothing to finish.”
Vittorio stepped forward.
“There is a family to restore.”
“No.”
“You dismantled everything.”
“I removed poison.”
“You removed strength.”
“I removed men who sold heroin to children.”
Vittorio’s expression hardened.
“And replaced them with businessmen who would sell us for tax immunity.”
“Then maybe the family deserved to end.”
Vittorio flinched.
There.
That mattered.
Roman had not simply rejected crime.
He had rejected his father’s idea of legacy.
Vittorio looked toward Paulina.
“The bloodline continues.”
I stepped forward.
“No.”
Matteo raised one hand.
A man appeared at the balcony above us.
Armed.
Roman saw him.
So did Mira.
We stopped.
Vittorio looked at me.
“You kept my granddaughter from her family.”
“You kept her father from knowing she existed.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I protected her from Roman’s weakness.”
I nearly choked.
“Love?”
“Attachment.”
“No. Love.”
Vittorio’s mouth tightened.
“Love makes leaders predictable.”
Roman looked at him.
“Then you never understood Mother.”
Something moved in Vittorio’s face.
Grief.
Real grief.
“Your mother betrayed me.”
“No,” Luca’s voice came from the side entrance.
Everyone turned.
He stepped into the gym.
“She finally stopped being afraid of you.”
Vittorio stared at his younger son.
“You.”
Luca smiled without humor.
“Still disappointing you after all these years.”
Matteo looked toward the balcony.
“Take him.”
The armed man did not move.
Matteo frowned.
“Antonio.”
Still nothing.
Then the gunman slowly lowered his weapon.
Roman looked surprised.
Luca didn’t.
“You paid him?”
“No.”
Luca stepped farther inside.
“His daughter goes to this parish school.”
He looked at Matteo.
“You threatened the wrong father.”
The first reversal landed.
Matteo’s control cracked.
Vittorio turned on him.
“You said the exits were secured.”
“They are.”
“No.”
Mira lifted her phone.
“They were.”
She had quietly sent the ledger photographs to three people while Roman walked into the gym.
A federal prosecutor.
A retired judge.
And a journalist whose name I recognized.
Matteo’s face drained.
“What did you do?”
“What I should’ve done nine years ago.”
Mira’s voice shook.
“I stopped protecting secrets.”
Paulina looked at her.
“Aunt Mira?”
“I’m okay, honey.”
Vittorio grabbed Paulina’s shoulder.
Roman moved.
“Take your hand off her.”
His voice was almost quiet.
Vittorio looked at his son.
“Choose.”
“There is no choice.”
“Your daughter or the empire.”
Roman took one step forward.
“I choose my daughter.”
Another.
“And my wife.”
Another.
“And my brother.”
His eyes locked onto his father’s.
“You can keep the empire.”
Vittorio’s face twisted.
“I built it for you.”
“No.”
Roman’s voice softened.
“You built it so nobody could ever tell you no.”
That hit harder than shouting.
Vittorio released Paulina.
Not because he surrendered.
Because the truth wounded him.
Paulina immediately ran.
I caught her.
She hit me so hard I nearly fell.
“Mama.”
“I’ve got you.”
Roman stopped a few feet away.
He wanted to touch her.
He didn’t.
Paulina looked at him over my shoulder.
“You came.”
His voice cracked.
“Always.”
Vittorio stared at us.
For the first time, he looked old.
Then Matteo suddenly moved.
He grabbed the ledger from my hands.
Roman lunged.
Matteo shoved a chair between them and ran toward the stage.
Vittorio shouted, “Matteo!”
The priest stopped.
Everyone froze.
Vittorio’s face had changed.
“What?”
Vittorio stared at the ledger.
“You told me Isabella destroyed that.”
Matteo said nothing.
Understanding crossed Vittorio’s face.
Roman saw it too.
“You didn’t know.”
Vittorio’s voice became deadly.
“You told me my wife died three years after her escape.”
Matteo backed away.
Luca went still.
“What?”
Vittorio’s eyes burned.
“You said she bled out before you could reach her.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“She betrayed us all.”
Vittorio took one step toward him.
“Where is my wife?”
Roman stopped breathing.
Matteo looked at the entire family he had manipulated for decades.
Then smiled.
“Alive.”
Silence.
Paulina clutched my coat.
Roman whispered, “Where?”
May you like
Matteo looked toward the old Christmas manger onstage.
“Closer than any of you ever bothered to look.”
