Page 97 of His Two Hidden Masks

“I’m not.” He looked up at me. “You knew it wasn’t right. I should have told you about my relationship with Sara. I should have told you about your father.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Before she died, Sara told me that he was cheating on your mother.” Roberto paused. “Surely you have suspected. Do you remember the nannies that used to work in your house?”

“Yes, the American nannies,” I said. “They taught us English.”

“The beautiful American nannies.” Roberto spoke slowly. “Your mother finally stopped him from hiring his mistresses, but she has never been able to make him stay faithful.”

I exhaled, realizing I’d always known the truth about those beautiful young women. “I know my parent’s marriage is not perfect. Mama fired all of the women on the staff enough times for me to know she had her reasons.”

“She did,” Roberto said. “In the past your father was even less discreet. Sara confronted him about one of his affairs. She called me, sobbing. I will never forget how her voice sounded on the phone. She sounded broken.”

His voice caught. “Something your father told her destroyed her. She told me she was ruined. She said she was unholy.”

“Unholy,” I said under my breath.

“I left Bremen that night and returned to Venice as soon as I could, but by the time I arrived, Sara was in a coma.”

“She was sick, and she didn’t tell you?” I said.

“She wasn’t sick,” Roberto said. He looked pained. “I never wanted to share any of this with you. You have to understand.”

My pulse quickened and my mouth went dry. “You are scaring me, Roberto.”

“I don’t mean to. I just can’t lie to you anymore.” His voice faltered, and when he looked at me again, tears glistened in his green eyes. I had never seen Roberto cry.

I had seen him red-faced and yelling. I had seen him quiet with worry. But tears? Never. Even when I left him at the altar, Lissa had shared with me that he looked crestfallen, but she never spoke of Roberto’s tears.

“What have you been hiding from me?” I said, my body frozen in anticipation.

“I believe that Sara didn’t die of blood cancer. I believe she killed herself.”

“No,” I said, standing. My pulse hammered and I felt off-balance. I steadied myself on the bar. “That’s not true. It’s not.”

“I believe it is true,” he said. “And I suspect, the only people who know the truth are your parents and the doctor who treated her at the end. I saw her in the hospital, Bella.

I read her chart. I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. When your parents discovered I’d visited, they interrogated me, but I lied to them. I never told them what I read in her file.”

“What did you read?” I said, sinking back onto the stool.

“The notes said your sister overdosed on prescription pain meds. She never woke up.”

Tears flooded my eyes. “And you think something my father did is what pushed her to kill herself.”

“I don’t think. I know,” Roberto said “Sara called me after talking to him. I am certain of it. And I have worked side-by-side with your father for years. I have seen how cruel he can be.”

I couldn’t breathe. I put my head in my hands, too stunned to cry. There were lies everywhere I looked. I came to Roberto looking for answers about the Street acquisition and discovered truths about my family that made me wonder if I could ever go home again.

“You see, I was already all fucked up, even before our wedding,” Roberto said. “You leaving me at the altar, didn’t make me pursue the Street Acquisition, because it was already in the works. You broke my heart that day, but I deserved it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“I fell in love with you, because I already knew everything about you, but how could you really love me when I’d kept secrets like this from you? I have blamed your father for Sara’s death for so long, I wanted to take everything from him, including you.”

He looked at me, his eyes sorrowful. “I know you have doubted yourself, and I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You did the right thing when you left me that day.”

My feelings for Roberto shifted from anger to empathy for his pain. He was broken and hurt, like us all. Hearing his story was validation that my fears were not just coming from Auntie’s cards. I knew in my bones that something was wrong with our engagement. I realized that something was fundamentally wrong with my family, too.

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