David.”
“Not Mia.”
“Correct.”
I sat back.
Then Alessandro asked his sister:
“Why didn’t you tell me Marco had falsified the reporting?”
Victoria’s face changed.
The question had been waiting.
“I was trying to protect his memory.”
Alessandro stared.
“For me?”
“For our mother.”
Our mother.
I had never met her.
Alessandro’s mother, Isabella, still lived part of the year in Connecticut after a stroke.
“Mom believed Marco was brilliant.”
“He was.”
“Yes.”
“And wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe David caused the losses.”
“I did not tell you he caused them.”
“You let me believe Marco’s accusation.”
Victoria looked down.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Marco died before the audit finished.”
Silence.
“He never got the chance to explain.”
“That does not make the records false.”
“No.”
“He blamed an employee to hide losses.”
“Yes.”
“You buried that because he died.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro stood.
Not angry in a dangerous way.
Just
