Chapter 4 - The Truth They Tried to Bury
Nico Russo was Antonio’s cousin.
I learned that from Maria, who sighed heavily when I asked about him.
“Family is not always simple,” she told me.
That was an understatement.
Over the following week, Nico appeared at the house more often. He would speak with Antonio behind closed doors, then leave in a storm of tension. Every time he saw me, his expression made it clear that he thought I was an outsider.
One afternoon, I found Antonio in his office, rubbing his temples.
“You should take a break,” I said.
He looked up. “You are supposed to be helping my mother.”
“I am. She’s napping.”
“You do not have to worry about me.”
“I know,” I said. “But I do anyway.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Antonio looked at me for a long moment.
Then he stood and crossed the room.
My heart pounded.
He stopped a careful distance away.
“Sophie,” he said quietly, “there are things about my life you should understand.”
“I know people talk.”
“They talk because they are afraid.”
“Are they wrong to be?”
His expression hardened slightly, but he did not look angry.
“No,” he said. “Not entirely.”
He looked toward the window.
“My father built this business from nothing. Shipping, restaurants, property. He also made choices I do not defend. When he died, people expected me to become him.”
“And did you?”
“I became what I had to become to keep my mother and sister safe.”
I did not know what to say.
Antonio finally looked back at me.
“But I have spent years trying to separate what is legal from what is inherited. Some people in my family do not agree.”
“Nico?”
“Yes.”
Before I could ask more, Elena rushed into the office.
“Antonio,” she said. “The police are outside.”
Everything changed at once.
Two detectives entered with a warrant to search the Russo property for financial records connected to a warehouse fire in Red Hook. The fire had injured three workers and destroyed a small neighboring business.
Antonio’s face went cold.
“This is not connected to us,” he said.
One detective glanced at me. “Who is she?”
“Sophie Bennett,” I said quickly. “I work for Mrs. Russo.”
The detective made a note.
For two hours, they searched the office, basement, and storage rooms. I stayed beside Maria, who was frightened but trying not to show it.
Then one officer came into the sunroom holding a folder.
“Mr. Russo,” he said, “we found documents with your signature approving the warehouse transfer.”
Antonio took the folder.
His face changed.
“These are forged.”
The detective looked unconvinced.
Nico appeared behind them.
He looked shocked.
Too shocked.
I watched him closely.
Then I noticed something small: a dark stain on the cuff of his shirt.
Black ink.
The same unusual blue-black ink used on the forged papers.
That night, after the police left, Antonio was taken in for questioning. He was not arrested, but the news spread quickly. Reporters gathered outside the gates. Bellarosa customers whispered when I came in for my evening shift.
Marco cornered me near the kitchen.
“I told you to stay away from them.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You don’t understand people like Russo.”
“No,” I said. “I understand people who judge others without knowing the truth.”
He stared at me.
For once, I did not lower my eyes.
At home, I could not sleep.
Something about the documents bothered me.
I remembered organizing Maria’s medications weeks earlier. There had been a locked drawer in the kitchen office where old household records were kept. Nico had been near that drawer the day before the police arrived.
I also remembered seeing a delivery receipt from the Red Hook warehouse in a stack of papers Nico had carried.
The next morning, I went to Elena.
“I think Nico set Antonio up,” I said.
Elena listened carefully.
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet.”
We searched records, security logs, and shipping schedules. It took two days, but we found something.
Nico had entered the warehouse office after hours using Antonio’s access code. A nearby security camera had captured his car. More importantly, the warehouse’s digital log showed that the forged transfer documents had been printed from a computer assigned to Nico.
Elena immediately contacted Antonio’s attorneys.
But before they could act, Nico discovered what we knew.
That evening, I left the Russo residence and found him waiting beside my car.
My blood ran cold.
“You should have stayed a waitress,” he said.
I tightened my grip on my keys. “Move.”
“You think Antonio cares about you?” Nico asked. “You are a temporary distraction.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
His face darkened.
“You are going to tell Elena that you made a mistake.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
Before I could move, a black SUV pulled sharply to the curb.
Antonio got out.
His expression was quieter than anger.
It was worse.
“Nico,” he said.
Nico turned.
Antonio walked between us.
“You threatened her?”
Nico laughed nervously. “I was only talking.”
“No,” Antonio said. “You were making a mistake.”
Within minutes, two of Antonio’s lawyers and a detective arrived. Nico was taken away for questioning after Elena delivered the evidence.
As the police car disappeared, my knees weakened.
Antonio turned to me.
“You should not have been alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he said. “But you should never have had to face him.”
For the first time, I saw fear in Antonio’s eyes.
Not fear for himself.
May you like
Fear for me.
And suddenly, I realized that somewhere between medication schedules, rainy afternoons, and all the secrets we had survived, I had begun to care for him too.
