Chapter 7 - ROCCO’S GRANDDAUGHTER WALKED INTO MY HOUSE AND CALLED HIM THE REAL MONSTER
Sofia Bellini arrived at my gate the next morning.
Alone.
Nineteen.
Jeans.
Black hoodie.
No coat despite the cold.
Rocco’s eyes.
His stubborn jaw.
Security called me.
I told them to let her in.
Elena insisted on being present.
So did Detective Mendoza.
Sofia entered the library.
Looked at me.
Then:
“My grandfather is a liar.”
Direct.
Family trait.
“Sit.”
“No.”
Fair.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Were you kidnapped?”
“No.”
“Did Marcus take you?”
“No.”
“Why did Rocco say he did?”
“Because he wanted you angry at Marcus.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Grandpa thinks Marcus is going to blame everything on him.”
“Is Marcus innocent?”
“No.”
Important.
“Then explain.”
Sofia pulled out a phone.
“I recorded Grandpa.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Where?”
“A motel in Queens.”
“You were with him voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He called me.”
“Asked for help?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Bring money.”
“Phone.”
“Clothes.”
Then she looked at me.
“I knew something was wrong.”
She pressed play.
Rocco’s voice.
Dominic found the ledger.
Sofia:
Then tell him the truth.
Rocco:
There is no truth that saves me.
Sofia:
Did you poison him?
Long silence.
Then Rocco:
I put the tracer in his wine.
Sofia:
Did you know someone else would add poison?
Silence.
My blood chilled.
Then:
I suspected.
Everything stopped.
He suspected.
Elena gripped the chair.
Recording continued.
Sofia:
Then you let him drink it?
Rocco:
I thought Marcus would switch the bottle, not dose the glass.
Sofia:
That makes no sense.
Rocco:
Nothing made sense by then.
Then another line.
I needed Dominic alive enough to turn on Marcus.
My stomach turned.
There.
I was a tool.
Not merely a victim.
Rocco had been trying to trigger conflict.
Maybe not kill me.
Risking death anyway.
Sofia stopped the recording.
“He wanted you to survive.”
I laughed coldly.
“Comforting.”
“It’s not.”
Good.
“What else?”
“Grandpa helped Marcus for years.”
“We know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t know what they were building.”
“What?”
“A second organization.”
Dante frowned.
“What kind?”
“Companies.”
“Security.”
“Judges.”
“Port officials.”
“People loyal to Marcus, not Vale.”
A parallel empire.
Funded by stolen money.
Ready to survive my death.
Or replace me.
Sofia continued.
“Grandpa started regretting it when Matteo was born.”
“Why?”
“He said Marcus stopped talking about succession like business and started talking about bloodline control.”
My son.
Again.
“What did that mean?”
“Marcus wanted you dead eventually.”
“Elena discredited.”
“Matteo raised under him.”
My hands clenched.
Elena asked:
“And Emma?”
Sofia looked confused.
“The girl?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
Good.
No invented reach.
“What about Naomi?”
“No.”
“Lydia?”
Sofia’s face changed.
She knew.
“What?”
“Grandpa said Simon took care of a problem.”
Elena went pale.
“Lydia.”
“Maybe.”
“What exactly?”
“He said Simon ‘handled the car.’”
Silence.
That was closer.
Not courtroom proof yet.
But enough to investigate Simon Crane.
“Where is Rocco?”
Sofia looked at me.
“I don’t know now.”
“You were with him.”
“He left while I slept.”
“Why leave the message?”
“Because I realized he was using me too.”
Her eyes filled.
“He told me Marcus would kill me.”
“But?”
“Marcus never contacted me.”
“Chloe Crane did.”
“Why?”
“She said Simon wanted me safe because Grandpa was unstable.”
Another possibility.
Simon may be killer.
May also be trying to protect Sofia.
Or use her.
No assumptions.
Detective Mendoza asked:
“Did Rocco ever admit involvement in Daniel Vale’s poisoning?”
Sofia looked down.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He bought the thallium.”
The room disappeared.
“He what?”
“For Marcus.”
“Did he know why?”
“At first he said no.”
“Then?”
“He knew after the second purchase.”
My hands started shaking.
“And he kept buying.”
“Yes.”
My father.
Rocco sat beside him at dinners.
Watched him get sick.
Purchased poison.
Then lied.
For thirty-two years.
I stood.
Elena moved closer.
“Dominic.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
“I’m fine.”
I was not.
I walked to the window.
Breathed.
Did not smash anything.
Progress sometimes looks pathetic from outside.
Still matters.
Sofia whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
I turned.
“You did nothing.”
“He’s my grandfather.”
“So?”
She stared.
“Blood is not responsibility.”
The words came from somewhere I had learned recently.
Elena.
Maybe Matteo.
Maybe Emma.
Sofia started crying.
I understood then that she had spent days believing her grandfather’s crimes had contaminated her.
They had not.
“What did Rocco want from me?”
I asked.
“Besides turning me on Marcus.”
“He wanted immunity.”
“He wanted enough evidence to trade.”
“He wanted Marcus destroyed.”
“And then?”
“He thought you would let him disappear.”
“No.”
Sofia nodded.
“I told him.”
Smart girl.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Simon Crane is dead.”
Sofia gasped.
“Where?”
“Parking garage in Midtown.”
“Cause?”
“Gunshot.”
“Rocco?”
“Unknown.”
Then another message arrived.
Security footage.
A man entering the garage twenty minutes before Simon.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Rocco Bellini.
He had just become a murder suspect.
Again.
May you like
And this time, if he had killed Simon, it was probably because Simon could tell us exactly what happened to Lydia, Naomi, my father—
and who actually put arsenic in my glass.
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