Chapter 23 - Vivian’s Truth
Vivian finally asked to speak.
Not to prosecutors.
To Sophie.
Claire Donnelly advised against it.
Sophie went anyway.
The meeting occurred through thick detention-center glass.
Vivian looked smaller without designer clothes and perfect lighting.
Sophie picked up the phone.
Vivian did too.
“You came.”
“You keep sounding surprised.”
“Rebecca stopped coming.”
“I’m not Rebecca.”
“No.”
Vivian studied her.
“You look like her when you’re angry.”
Sophie waited.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you one thing before Damian rewrites history.”
“He’s cooperating.”
“Of course.”
“He’s admitting crimes.”
“He’s choosing the version that gives him the shortest sentence.”
Sophie considered.
“Maybe both.”
Vivian almost smiled.
“You really do refuse simple answers.”
“My mother worked hard for that.”
Vivian’s expression tightened.
“Rebecca thought complexity made her superior.”
“No. I think she was frightened.”
“Of Father?”
“Yes.”
Vivian looked away.
Sophie continued.
“She was nineteen, Vivian.”
“I was eight.”
“I know.”
“She left me.”
“I know.”
“For thirty years no one says that part.”
“I’m saying it.”
Vivian’s eyes filled.
“She left me.”
Sophie swallowed.
“Yes.”
The acknowledgment changed something.
Vivian stopped defending herself for a moment.
“She promised she’d come back.”
Sophie had never known.
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
“Father told me the Morettis poisoned her against us.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I was eight.”
That answer held the entire tragedy.
Vivian continued.
“By the time I learned Rebecca had married, she refused my letters.”
Sophie’s throat tightened.
“My mother never mentioned them.”
“She returned every one.”
Sophie sat back.
A painful truth about Rebecca.
Her mother had protected Sophie partly by abandoning Vivian.
Again, victim and perpetrator.
Both.
“Why did you target Massimo?”
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“To access records.”
“And later?”
Vivian looked down.
“I liked him.”
Sophie said nothing.
“He was different from Enzo.”
“Then why continue?”
“Because every time I considered stopping, I heard Father.”
“What did he say?”
“That comfort is how guilty families survive.”
Vivian laughed bitterly.
“Then Massimo proposed.”
“And you said yes.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love him?”
Vivian took a long time.
“Yes.”
Sophie believed her.
That made everything uglier.
“Did Damian know?”
“He knew before I did.”
“Why stay with him too?”
“Because Damian understood where I came from.”
“And Massimo represented what you wanted?”
Vivian looked at her sharply.
Sophie continued.
“Maybe Massimo was the life where you weren’t Thomas Bell’s angry daughter.”
Tears rose in Vivian’s eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Damian was the war.”
“Stop.”
“And Massimo was the exit.”
Vivian pressed her palm against the glass.
“Stop.”
Sophie did.
For several seconds they breathed through separate worlds.
Finally Vivian whispered:
“I hated him for making me want to leave the plan.”
There it was.
The most honest thing Vivian had said.
“Why hurt Lucia?”
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Who my father was.”
“She didn’t expose you.”
“No.”
“So why?”
Vivian’s face twisted.
“Because she looked at me with pity.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
“That’s why?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No. I do.”
Sophie stared at her aunt.
“You were angry because Lucia could see the child underneath the revenge.”
Vivian began crying.
“And when she refused Document 17, I heard Enzo again. Rich people deciding what everyone else deserves.”
“So you grabbed her medication.”
“Yes.”
“You could have killed her.”
“I know.”
“Did you mean to hospitalize Massimo?”
Vivian looked directly at Sophie.
“Yes.”
“Kill him?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
Vivian’s voice broke.
“I don’t know.”
Sophie went still.
Vivian continued.
“I calculated the dose. I told myself it was safe. But I was angry.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“You became Thomas.”
Vivian shook her head.
“No.”
“You made another person’s suffering proof of your grievance.”
“Don’t.”
“You became Enzo too.”
Vivian stared.
That hurt worse.
“Enzo decided Carlo could be sacrificed for a company. Thomas decided you could be sacrificed for revenge. You decided Lucia and Massimo could be sacrificed for justice.”
Sophie’s voice trembled.
“Different excuses. Same permission.”
Vivian lowered the phone.
For a moment Sophie thought the meeting was over.
Then Vivian lifted it again.
“Why didn’t Rebecca ever tell you about me?”
Sophie answered honestly.
“I don’t know.”
Vivian nodded.
That was one wound no courtroom could repair.
Before Sophie left, Vivian said:
“I planted the medal.”
“I know.”
“But not the original Document 17.”
“Lucia did.”
Vivian looked surprised.
Then laughed weakly.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“I searched that room for two years.”
Sophie almost smiled.
“You underestimated an old woman.”
“Everyone did.”
Sophie stood.
Vivian pressed her palm against the glass again.
Sophie hesitated.
Then placed hers opposite it.
Not forgiveness.
Not reconciliation.
Recognition.
Vivian whispered:
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Sophie’s throat tightened.
“I believe you.”
Vivian’s eyes filled with hope.
Then Sophie continued:
“That doesn’t erase it.”
The hope changed.
But Vivian nodded.
For the first time, she accepted a consequence without arguing.
Sophie walked away.
Outside, Massimo waited beside a car.
She stopped.
“You came?”
“I was nearby.”
“That is almost certainly a lie.”
“Yes.”
Sophie looked back at the detention center.
“She loved you.”
Massimo’s face changed.
“I know.”
“She hated that.”
“I know.”
Sophie studied him.
“How?”
Massimo looked toward the gray sky.
“Because I hated that some of what I loved about her was real too.”
Neither spoke.
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Then Sophie got into the car.
This time she did not ask him to leave her alone.
