The letter began, Dante, I kept telling myself I could repair this without letting anyone know how badly I failed.
Vittorio described trusting Carmine to administer relief payments after the warehouse fire, discovering irregular transfers years later, and then retreating from a public admission because an investigation would expose his own negligence and dishonest business practices. He had gathered records but left his son a cipher instead of reporting them while alive.
I made a puzzle, he wrote, because I was a coward and wanted to call it wisdom. If you are reading this, don't mistake my hesitation for an excuse. Tell the families what happened. Let them decide whether to forgive us.
Dante read the letter three times when Livia shared the authorized copy. He did not cry in front of anyone. He put the page down, walked into the empty corridor, and stayed there for several minutes. When he returned, his eyes were red.
“Everybody told me he was an iron man,” he said to Selene later. “He was frightened of being seen as weak.”
“Lots of people are,” she replied. “But fear doesn't turn a bad decision into a good one.”
“No. It doesn't.”
The recovered schedule included a handwritten notation by Vittorio identifying funds transferred to Orsini-controlled entities and a set of internal reference numbers. Those numbers matched several corporate transactions already identified in the independent audit. It was strong evidence, though prosecutors would still need authenticated originals and witnesses who could explain the transactions.
Then came the news Selene had scarcely allowed herself to imagine.
Alice Ward's inventory had been located in an old university records system. Its timestamp preceded the misconduct inquiry. A laboratory administrator confirmed the system had kept an unaltered copy. The document recorded the serial number of Selene's original drive and Kessler's authorization to remove it. An independent expert found that the photographs presented to the panel had been produced later on a different device.
Cambridge did not reverse its finding that afternoon. It opened an independent review and gave Selene a formal opportunity to submit the new material. Mara warned her not to speak of exoneration until the review reached a conclusion. Selene understood. The distinction still made her furious.
That evening, Dante brought takeaway soup to Mara's office because everyone had worked through dinner. They sat side by side at the end of the conference table, watching snow collect against the window.
“Ten million dollars,” Selene said. “You could have bought a small library of scholars for that.”
“I tried buying answers. It didn't work.”
“I'm not sure you hired me for an answer. I think you hired me because I was the only person willing to tell you your question was wrong.”
He looked at her. “I knew nothing about you when you said that at Loro.”
“You knew I carried wine.”
“I knew you weren't afraid to say no.”
“I was afraid. I told you that.”
“I remember.”
They ate in silence for a while. Then Dante said, “I don't want this to end with you being the waitress who saved a mob boss.”
“Neither do I.”
“What do you want it to end with?”
Selene looked at the pages spread across the table, at the names that had taken so much work to recover.
“I want Mateo Salazar's sister to get the letter she deserved. I want the people whose lives were sold back to them in rent bills to have somewhere secure to live. I want my students to know I didn't cheat. After that, I'd like to sleep for a week.”
“And after that?”
She looked at him. “Maybe I'll remember what happiness feels like.”
His hand rested on the table, near hers but not touching. She could have moved closer. She didn't. He respected the distance.