For several long moments, we just lay there, panting, still joined. Her leg slid from my shoulder, and I carefully lowered myself beside her, pulling her against my chest.
“I needed that,” Elena mumbled against my chest, her voice sleepy and satisfied.
“Me too,” I admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“We still need to talk,” she said, but there was no fight left in her voice.
“Tomorrow,” I promised, pulling the covers over us both. “We'll talk tomorrow.”
She nodded, already drifting off, and I held her a little tighter.
Chapter 19 - Elena
The next morning, I woke up in Gastone’s bed. I was blissfully still lost in thoughts of last night, my body aching pleasantly from ouractivities. But once I came around to being more alert, my mind shifted and conspired, raced with thoughts about the conversation we'd promised to have today.
Up until that moment, I had no proof. Just a belief that my family was innocent. Until Federico got back to me with real, I knew I didn’t have a standing chance of proving my family’s innocence.
I stepped out of bed and padded through the house. It was empty. Silent. Gastone had already left for the day, so I took my sweet time showering and made myself a nice breakfast. I was just finishing up when my phone rang. I picked up instantly when I saw it was Federico calling.
“Elena,” he said urgently, without even a hello. “I need to tell you something, and you need to be alone when I do. Are you?”
I quickly sat straighter. “Yes. He's already gone. What's up?”
“I've found something.” He paused, and I could hear paper rustling. “I tracked down that journalist who wrote the article about Adriana’s killing—the one that implicated our family.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. It was happening. We had information. I couldn’t believe it. We could finally put this chapter to rest. “And?”
“Well. Turns out that he's dead, Elena. His mother found him murdered in his apartmentthe very day afterthe article was published.”
I screeched. “What?”
“Yeah. He was shot in the head. It’s suspicious, isn’t it? So, I started digging. I talked to my contacts in the media. These guys, they know everything. It turns out he was fired the very same day that the article came out because his editor realized he had no proof of what he had insinuated against us. He just went ahead and printed an accusation against us by not sending his story through the editors.”
I gasped. “Why would he do that?”
“That’s what we were wondering. Something must have happened to make him risk his entire career. So, we looked into it and found out he had been paid. Someone was actively trying to point the finger at us.” His voice hardened. “Elena, like I told you earlier, we didn't kill Adriana. When I discovered all this, I went to Gio. He was shocked. Gastone thought so and confirmed it himself that we never even looked in Adriana’s direction. She was never, could never have been, a target. He had no idea Gastone was even with someone at that time.”
“Then who did it?” I whispered, knowing that at last, we could find the culprit. I, too, wanted justice for Adriana. Even though I’d never met her, but she and their unborn child never deserved that cruel fate.
“I've put everything I found in an envelope and sent it over this morning. Did you check your mail?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Just give me the short version, please,” I said, already walking over to look for the mail.
“The short version? Adriana was having an affair, and we believe her lover killed her.”
My blood ran cold, and I paused, finding it unable to move. “What?”
“I'm sorry, Elena. I know that's not what you wanted to hear. But the truth is, Adriana was pregnant, but the baby wasn't Gastone's. The police investigated her death, but the man they suspected, her ex-lover, went into hiding. I got all the reports from an insider at the station. There are doctor's notes in the police file where she listed a different man as the father. And when he found out she wasn't going to leave Gastone for him—apparently, she liked the lifestyle too much—he killed her and made sure we'd take the blame.”
My free hand pressed against my mouth, stifling a gasp. “Gastone doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t,” said Federico, and I heard sadness in his voice.
“So what then? They never found him?” I asked, after a moment’s silence.
“My contact says the police almost immediately dropped the investigation into us because there was zero evidence. They know who did it, but could never find him. Gastone was never keen on talking to the cops because by then the damage was done. Gastone was already convinced it was us. So, he never found out, and the cops got busy with active leads on other cases.”
I fought to keep my breathing even. “Federico, this will destroy him.”
