Chapter 18 - SOFIA ASKED ABOUT THE BREAD
Sofia was nine when she finally asked what had been on the bread.
Not the child version.
The real version.
Elena looked at Alessandro before answering.
They had always kept the details simple.
Someone had put medicine where it did not belong.
Sofia saw it.
She told an adult.
The adults stopped it.
That had been enough.
Now she wanted more.
“Would you have died?”
Alessandro did not lie.
“Maybe.”
Sofia’s face changed.
Elena reached for her.
Sofia looked at Alessandro.
“Because I told you?”
“You helped stop it.”
She stared at her hands.
“What if I was wrong?”
Alessandro understood the real question.
Children who become important witnesses sometimes carry a burden no child should.
The belief that speaking caused everything afterward.
Isabella’s arrest.
Enzo’s downfall.
Luca being shot.
The family changing.
Alessandro moved closer.
“If you had been wrong, I would still be proud you told me.”
“Why?”
“Because when something feels dangerous, children should tell an adult.”
“What happens after that is the adult’s responsibility.”
Sofia looked toward Elena.
“Mom says the same thing.”
“Your mother is usually smarter than me.”
Elena nodded.
“Usually?”
Alessandro corrected himself.
“Always.”
Sofia smiled.
Then she asked.
“Were you scared?”
That question surprised him.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When Isabella wouldn’t eat the bread.”
“Not when Uncle Enzo had the gun?”
“That too.”
“But the bread scared me more.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew the danger was already inside my house.”
Sofia considered that.
Then she hugged him.
Alessandro froze.
He had become better at affection.
Not excellent.
Sofia accepted the limitations.
After a moment, he hugged her back.
That night, Alessandro entered the formal dining room alone.
The same table remained.
The same windows.
The same silver service.
He could almost see Isabella sitting across from him.
Almost hear Sofia’s whisper.
Someone is putting poison in your food.
He walked toward the chair where Sofia had stood.
Then he looked at the long table and realized something.
The room no longer felt haunted.
May you like
It simply felt old.
He had survived the memory long enough for it to become history.
