Chapter 7: The Brother Comes Home
Matteo arrived two days later.
He came in the early afternoon, as if the visit were casual — a bottle of wine under his arm, a smile already in place before the door opened.
He was four years younger than Valerio and had always known how to wear a room.
Broad-shouldered, easy-laughing, the kind of man who made people feel immediately that they were the most interesting person he had spoken to all week.
Alessia had watched him do it for three years.
She had liked him for it.
She was seated in the main sitting room when he walked in.
Her cane was beside her chair.
She did not stand.
Matteo's smile held.
"Alessia.
You look well, considering."
"Sit down, Matteo."
Something in her voice made him pause.
Just briefly.
Then he sat.
Valerio came in from the adjoining room.
No greeting.
He sat across from his brother and set a tablet on the table between them — screen down.
Matteo looked from one to the other.
The smile adjusted itself into something more careful.
"This feels serious," he said.
"It is," Valerio said.
"Is this about the estate restructuring?
Because I've been meaning to talk to you about—"
"It's about Alessia's medication."
The smile didn't disappear.
It stayed exactly where it was, which was the tell.
"Her medication," Matteo repeated.
"The second bottle.
The one with the copied label.
The one that's been giving her nerve damage for four months." Valerio's voice was conversational.
"We identified the compound.
We have the pharmacy in Lugano.
We have the bank transfers from Veronica's account." He paused.
"And we have her phone."
The smile was gone now.
Matteo leaned back.
His hands went to his knees.
"I don't know what Veronica told you, but whatever arrangement she—"
"*Is it working?*" Alessia said.
He looked at her.
"That's what you wrote to her.
Six weeks ago." She held his gaze.
"And she wrote back: *Slower than expected.
She's strong.*" Her voice didn't waver.
"I've been wondering which part of that you're proud of.
The question, or the patience."
Matteo was quiet for a long moment.
Then he did something neither of them expected.
He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, and looked at Valerio with an expression that was almost — not quite, but almost — honest.
"You were going to cut me out," he said.
"I was going to adjust your share.
There's a difference."
"Not from where I was standing." His voice had lost its warmth entirely.
What was underneath was harder and older.
"This family built everything together.
Our father built it for both of us.
And you were going to rewrite the documents the moment she—" He stopped.
Glanced at Alessia.
"The moment there was a reason to."
"So your answer was to make her disappear slowly," Valerio said.
"I didn't think it would—" Matteo stopped again.
"Finish it," Valerio said quietly.
"I didn't think it would go this far." The words came out smaller than he intended.
"Veronica said she just wanted to make Alessia sick enough that you'd be distracted.
That the estate changes would be delayed.
I didn't know she was—" He pressed his mouth closed.
"You sent her the photograph," Alessia said.
"Of my medication bottle.
You came into my home and you photographed my medication so she could copy the label." She leaned forward slightly.
"You knew exactly what it was for."
Matteo looked at the floor.
"Look at me," Alessia said.
He didn't.
"Matteo." Her voice was very quiet.
"Look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"I called you my brother," she said.
"For three years.
Every family dinner.
Every holiday.
Every time Valerio traveled and I was here alone and you came by to check on me." She paused.
"Were any of those visits real?
Or were you watching to see if it was working?"
The silence that followed was the longest in the room all afternoon.
Matteo opened his mouth.
Ferro stepped in from the doorway.
Two men behind him.
And behind them, a woman in a grey coat who set a briefcase on the side table and did not introduce herself.
Matteo looked at the briefcase.
Then at his brother.
"Valerio—"
May you like
"You're going to want to call your lawyer," Valerio said.
"Before she opens that."
