Page 79 of Luca

"Yes?"

"If anyone ever asks questions about Sofia Romano's background, if anyone else tries to investigate her past or present, I want to know about it immediately."

"Understood. Consider the matter sealed permanently."

The detective's investigation ends here, buried under enough money to ensure his silence. Whatever questions might arise about my wife's identity in the future, they won't come from official channels.

But that still leaves the question of what I do with the truth I've discovered.

My phone buzzes. An unusual text from Dante Mancini: "Enjoyed meeting your charming wife in Milan. Look forward to seeing you both again soon for another poker game."

I read the message again. Dante isn't the type to send social pleasantries. If he's reaching out, it's because he wants something.

Or because he knows something.

"Luca?" Gabriella appears in the doorway, still wearing the conservative dress she chose for travel. "Is everything all right? You look concerned."

"It’s business. Nothing that can't wait."

She nods, but I can see her studying my face. She's trying to determine if my mood has anything to do with her confession or if it's genuinely about work.

"Rosa said your father called earlier," I tell her. "She told him you'd call him back when you had time."

She rolls her eyes. Not even trying to hide her feelings about him anymore. "Of course. I should check in with him."

"Probably wise. I'm sure he's anxious to hear about the trip."

"Yes. I'm sure he is."

She turns to leave, then pauses. "Luca? Thank you. For Prague, I mean. For giving me that time away."

"You don't need to thank me."

"I feel like I do."

After she's gone, I sit in the growing darkness of my study and think about choices. About the woman living in my house who isn't my wife but makes my house feel like a home when she’s here.

About the way she looked at me in Prague when she thought I might destroy her, and how she never once begged for mercy.

My phone rings with Paolo calling.

"Boss, we've got the weekly security briefing scheduled for tomorrow. And there's a message from your stepmother about a dinner party this weekend. She wants to know if you and Mrs. Romano will attend."

A dinner party. Public appearances. The careful choreography of maintaining our marriage in front of people who can't know the truth.

"Tell her we'll be there," I say. "And Paolo? I want extra security for that event. Discrete, but thorough."

"Any particular concerns?"

"Being cautious is all."

But it's more than caution. It's instinct. Something about Dante's message, about the timing, feels calculated. And in my world, calculated timing usually means trouble.

I head upstairs to find Gabriella on the phone with her father, speaking in careful, measured tones about Prague's beauty and our wonderful time together.

She's protecting him from the truth just like she protected Sofia. Taking responsibility for problems she didn't create, shielding others from consequences that should be shared.

When she hangs up, she looks tired with dark circles under her eyes that weren’t there before.