Part 5: The Other Allegra Rossi
Gabriele De Santia survived surgery with a bandaged shoulder, a bruised ego and an entirely unnecessary appetite for drama.
When Allegra entered his hospital room, he squinted at her.
“Did you shoot me?”
“Good morning to you too.”
“It’s a reasonable question.”
“Of course. I shot you, then brought flowers because I felt guilty about the upholstery.”
He looked at the bouquet.
“Those are lilies. I’m allergic.”
“I know.”
Edoardo sighed.
Gabriele grinned, then winced.
“I’m joking. I know it wasn’t you.”
“Wonderful. Can we tell the police?”
“We can tell them who was.”
He passed her a photograph.
A woman stood outside a bank, her dark hair tucked into a black coat. She had Allegra’s face. The same narrow chin, the same eyes, the same little crease between the brows.
Allegra stared.
“Who is she?”
“Lucia Varela. Bellandi recruited her years ago to impersonate you.”
“Why me?”
“Because Antonio left a record of the transactions. Bellandi thought he could use your identity to move money and make it appear you’d inherited your father’s role.”
“And then?”
Gabriele’s expression darkened.
“Then, when he no longer needed a living Allegra Rossi, he could make the paperwork look like you’d vanished with the money.”
Allegra sat down.
“So my life is somebody’s very elaborate accounting fraud.”
“I’m afraid so.”
She looked at Edoardo.
“I’m raising my hourly rate.”
The ledger, if it existed, was their best chance of proving the fraud. Antonio had kept meticulous handwritten accounts, and Gabriele believed he’d hidden a duplicate before disappearing.
Allegra remembered a loose stone behind the wine racks in her father’s restaurant.
Edoardo wanted a security team.
Allegra wanted to go immediately.
They compromised on four guards, one car and an argument that lasted the entire journey.
The restaurant was dusty and silent. Allegra could almost smell the bread her father baked each morning.
She found the loose stone.
Behind it was a narrow metal box.
Inside lay a notebook, a family photograph and a folded letter addressed to her.
She opened the letter with trembling hands.
My clever girl,
If you’ve found this, the people I trusted have failed us. I am sorry for what my silence has cost you. The ledger records the truth, but it also contains evidence against people who claim to be on our side. Do not hand it to anyone until you understand every name.
Love, Dad.
Allegra pressed the paper to her chest.
“It’s his handwriting.”
Edoardo touched her shoulder.
Before she could open the ledger, a voice spoke from the stairs.
“How touching.”
Marco Bellandi stood in the doorway with a gun.
Beside him was the woman from the photograph.
Lucia.
Bellandi smiled. “Thank you for finding my property.”
Allegra held the notebook tighter.
“You’re welcome. Would you like a gift receipt?”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
He raised the gun towards Edoardo.
“Then I’ll ask less politely.”
Lucia flinched.
Allegra looked at her. The resemblance was uncanny, but now she noticed a scar beneath Lucia’s chin and a silver pendant shaped like a tiny olive branch.
She had seen that pendant before, in a photograph her mother kept hidden in a kitchen drawer.
“Lucia,” she said carefully, “who gave you that necklace?”
Lucia’s eyes filled.
“Antonio.”
Bellandi snapped, “Be quiet.”
Allegra ignored him.
“Why would my father give you a necklace?”
Lucia looked directly at her.
“Because he was my father too.”
The notebook slipped in Allegra’s hands.
“I’m your sister,” Lucia whispered.
And Bellandi pulled the trigger.
