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“She lives in Lake Como with their son.”
What?
“They had a son?” I whisper.
“Yes, they had a boy. He was only seventeen when your father passed.”
I stare at her as I begin to feel my pulse raging throughout my body.
“He was with her long before he met your mother, but he wasn’t allowed to marry her. She was the love of his life. He was loyal to her to the very end.”
I clench my jaw… in distain. My mother was the love of his life.
“Liar,” I sneer.
“Why do you think your father had a house in Lake Como that he took you and your brothers to every weekend, Rico?”
I stare at her as a missing piece of the puzzle falls into place.
“Why do you think your mother hated the place? Why does your mother prefer to be in Rome?”
“My mother married my father for love.”
“Your mother married your father because of his name. She knew he loved another. She always came second to Angelina. She was happy with the arrangement and his money.”
I drain my scotch and slam my glass down onto the table. I stand in a rush, and without another word, I storm out of the restaurant and around the corner into an alleyway. I’m hot, clammy, and disorientated. I push my hands onto my knees. With the realization that my whole life is a lie, I throw up.
Olivia
I stand at the 3D printer and fold my arms in a huff.
It’s Monday afternoon. I hate this machine. Why does it print so slow? Where is the normal photocopier? Why is it all so technical?
“How was your weekend?” Martin from accounts asks me.
“Great. How was yours?” I smile.
Great doesn’t come close to describing my weekend. I had the most fabulous weekend in history, and I am on a Ferrara high. I’m so high, I can’t even see the ground.
Rico and I turned the corner in a big way and I just can’t wait to see him tonight. He won’t be back until late, but that’s okay. This will be my new normal.
My design finally prints, and I make my way back to my seat. My phone on my desk rings.
“Olivia, this is Torino from reception downstairs.”
“Hi.” I smile. “How can I help you?”
“You have someone to see you down here.”
“Who is it?”
“Um.” She pauses. “Yes, just go into the conference room on level two—take the elevator,” she says to whoever is waiting. “Olivia will meet you up there.”
I frown as I wait on.
“It’s the police,” she whispers.
“What? And they’re here to see me?”
