Chapter 6: The Other Name
The name on the phone was Matteo Rinaldi.
Valerio's younger brother.
Ferro held the phone out without a word.
Valerio took it.
Read the thread from the beginning.
His expression didn't change — not the way most people's expressions change.
There was no visible shift in his face.
But Alessia, watching from the doorway where she had appeared with a cane borrowed from the medical wing, saw his shoulders drop by a fraction of an inch.
She had learned, in three years of marriage, that this was the equivalent of another man's collapse.
"How far back does it go?" she asked.
"Eight months," Valerio said.
He handed her the phone.
She read.
The messages were not love letters.
They were not emotional.
They were operational — the kind of communication between two people who have agreed on a goal and are managing its progress.
Dates.
Dosage questions.
One message from Matteo that said simply: *Is it working?* And Veronica's reply: *Slower than expected.
She's strong.*
And one more, six weeks ago, from Matteo: *We need it done before the anniversary gala.
After that he changes the estate documents.*
Alessia lowered the phone.
"The estate documents," she said.
Valerio said nothing.
"He was going to lose something when you changed them," she said.
"What?"
"His guaranteed inheritance share." Valerio's voice was flat.
"I've been restructuring the estate for the past year.
When we have children, Matteo's position changes significantly.
He knew it was coming."
"So he didn't want me gone because of Veronica," Alessia said slowly.
"He wanted me gone because of the children we haven't had yet."
"He wanted you gone before you could have them."
She set the phone on the table.
Looked at it for a moment.
Then looked at Valerio.
"Where is he now?"
"At his apartment in the city.
He doesn't know we have this."
Ferro cleared his throat.
"There's more.
Scroll to the earlier messages."
Valerio took the phone back.
Found the section Ferro meant.
It was a photograph.
Sent by Matteo to Veronica four months ago, the week before the prescription refills began.
A photograph of Alessia's original medication bottle, taken from inside the medical wing cabinet.
Matteo had been in this house.
Had walked into this room.
Had photographed the bottle and sent it to Veronica so she could copy the label.
Valerio set the phone face-down on the table.
The silence lasted exactly four seconds.
"I want to call him," Valerio said.
Ferro shook his head once.
"Not yet.
If he knows we have the phone—"
"I'm not going to tell him what we have."
"Valerio—"
"I want to hear his voice." He picked up his own phone.
"I want to hear what he says when I call him this morning and ask how the wedding went."
Ferro looked at Alessia.
She gave a small nod.
Valerio dialed.
It rang twice.
"Brother." Matteo's voice was warm.
Easy.
The voice of a man who had slept well.
"Quite a night.
How is Alessia?
I heard she had a fall."
"She's resting," Valerio said.
"Shaken up, but fine."
"Good.
Good.
These things happen at events.
Too much champagne, someone moves a chair—"
"Yes," Valerio said.
"Someone moved a chair."
A beat of silence.
Brief.
Almost nothing.
"Well," Matteo said.
"Give her my love.
I'll come by this week."
"Do that," Valerio said.
"Come by this week."
He ended the call.
The room was very still.
"He doesn't know," Alessia said.
"No."
"How long do we wait?"
Valerio looked at Ferro.
Something passed between them — not words, not gestures, just the particular understanding of two people who have worked together for a long time.
"Not long," Ferro said.
Alessia looked at the phone on the table.
At the photograph of her own medication bottle, taken in secret, in her own home, by the man who had danced at her wedding and called her sister and kissed her cheek at every family dinner for three years.
She picked up her cane.
Steadied herself.
"I want to be there," she said.
"When you confront him.
I want to be in the room."
Valerio looked at her.
"I'm not asking," she said.
May you like
He held her gaze for a long moment.
"I know," he said.
