Chapter 98

• Three hours had passed since Nazzareno Bellotti left, and I still hadn't managed to pull myself together.
• Questions swarmed like wasps in my head, stinging and relentless. I kept sifting through memories, searching for anything any thread that might unravel this mess. At twelve, I’d been too young to be involved in corporate affairs, but I remembered that day. The day of the accident. My father had stayed home. That alone was strange.
• He’d been glued to his phone, shouting, cursing, his voice raw with rage at whoever was on the other end of the line. And now, all these years later, a terrible thought had taken root in my mind. What if it hadn’t been an accident at all? What if my aunt and uncle were murdered? Worse what if my own father had orchestrated it?