Chapter 15 - THE VERDICT
The verdict came after four days of deliberation.
Guilty on the major conspiracy counts.
Guilty on financial fraud charges.
Guilty on charges connected to Luca’s shooting.
Other charges were resolved separately.
Enzo stood without expression.
Alessandro watched from the second row.
Years earlier, they had been boys racing bicycles along the Romano estate driveway.
Enzo always wanted to win.
Alessandro always assumed there would be another race.
There was not.
As officers escorted Enzo away, he turned.
His eyes found Alessandro.
“You think you won?”
Alessandro said nothing.
“You’re still exactly what your father made you.”
Alessandro almost responded.
Then he remembered Vittorio’s letter.
Never confuse understanding a man with absolving him.
He let Enzo leave without the final argument Enzo wanted.
Isabella received a substantial prison sentence under her cooperation agreement.
Before she was taken away, she requested one last message be delivered to Alessandro.
He refused to read it.
Marco asked why.
“Because not every door needs to be reopened to prove it’s closed.”
Marco nodded.
The financial investigation recovered much of the stolen money.
Not all.
Alessandro did not care.
The company survived.
More importantly, Luca survived.
Sofia survived.
Elena survived.
That should have felt like enough.
But after the trial, Alessandro struggled to sleep.
Every breakfast smell made him remember.
Butter.
Coffee.
Toast.
A blue bottle.
Isabella smiling.
He began waking at 4:00 a.m.
Marco noticed.
Luca noticed.
Sofia definitely noticed.
One morning she found him sitting on the terrace before sunrise.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“You look sick.”
“Thank you.”
She climbed beside him.
“Mommy says people can be sick in their feelings.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“She says that?”
“Yes.”
“She says Uncle Luca used to be sick in his brain about buying me too many toys.”
Alessandro laughed.
“That’s true.”
Sofia swung her feet.
“Are you sick in your feelings?”
Alessandro considered lying.
Then he remembered where lying had brought all of them.
“A little.”
Sofia nodded.
“My teacher says talking helps.”
“You’re six.”
“Seven.”
“My mistake.”
She leaned against his arm.
“You should talk.”
So he did.
Not to Sofia.
To a professional.
May you like
It was the least mafia-like decision Alessandro Romano had ever made.
It may have been one of the bravest.
