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He Canceled Our Wedding Ninety-Nine Times, So I Joined His Enemy novel · Chapter 19 of 24

Chapter 19: What I Wrote Down

"It's my hand," I said. "And every word of it is true."

Massimo's head came up.

He looked at me for the first time that night, and I looked back.

"I wrote it the week he took the seat," I said. "He gave me the order and told me to close the file. I closed it."

"Then there's nothing to argue," said the south-shore Don.

"There is one thing."

I stood up.

"Don Benvenuti's daughter has told you she wanted to understand," I said. "She has told you she asked for nothing but to be heard. I want the table to hear the rest."

Paola's hands tightened on the cloth.

"Renata, please," she said softly. "This is my father's death."

"It is, and you used it."

Tullio set his leather case on the table and opened it.

He took out a laptop and turned it to face the old Don.

"This is from the stairwell camera outside the conference room," I said. "Ten days ago, three in the afternoon, the day before the lashes."

The old Don put on his glasses.

Tullio pressed a key.

A gray stairwell filled the screen, and Paola came down it alone in her pale blue dress with a folder.

Everyone at the table watched her take out a pen.

Everyone watched her bend over the page and change a number.

Then she looked up into the lens and smiled.

Nobody said a word.

I let it run until she walked out of the frame.

"That page," I said, "is the Delorme order. She changed the amount after I handed it over. You watched a whip fall on me for it."

The north-side Don turned slowly to look at Massimo.

"You did that?"

"I did," Massimo said hoarsely. "I did it on a false file."

"She also paid for a fire," I said. "The east-docks yard burned six days ago, and the men who set it wore Lombardi jackets. One of them is in this house."

The east-docks capo opened the door.

Gabriele's men brought in the driver from the fire, a different man from the one who had driven me, with his wrists free and his head down.

"Tell the table," I said.

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