Page 58 of Luca
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?" He shifts so he can study me closely, his eyes sharp with suspicion. "Because I've been married to you for weeks now, and I'm realizing I don't know you at all."
The truth is right there, begging to be spoken. He's given me the perfect opening to confess everything, to explain how I never meant for any of this to go so far.
"You know me," I say, reaching up to touch his face. "You know me better than anyone else ever has. In all the ways that matter."
"Do I? Because right now, you feel like a stranger."
The words hurt, because he's right. I am a stranger. I'm someone he's never met, living in his house, sleeping in his bed.
"I'm your wife," I say, because it's the only truth I can give him.
"Are you?"
The question hangs between us in the darkness, loaded with all the doubt and suspicion and growing certainty that something is fundamentally wrong.
"Yes," I whisper, though we both know it's not that simple anymore. “I vowed to be your wife and I am.”
Chapter 21: Luca
I'm reviewing security footage of the villa’s front door. When Sofia left for the visit to her father’s house yesterday, she was nervous and fidgety. When she returned three hours, her demeanor was different. Shoulders rigid with tension, movements sharp with barely controlled panic. Something happened in that house that changed her entire demeanor.
I rewind the footage and watch it again. The way she carries herself when she thinks no one is watching. The brief moment when she looks directly at the security camera with an expression I've never seen on Sofia's face before. As if she's assessing threats and planning responses.
That's not the reaction of someone who just had a pleasant family visit.
My phone buzzes with Detective Alberti calling, hopefully with the additional results I've been waiting for.
"I've got some more information on Mrs. Romano," he says without preamble. "Though I have to say, it's raising more questions than it's answering."
"Tell me."
"Her background checks out for the most part. Born in Rome, educated at private schools, studied art history at university. But there are some gaps in the timeline that don't quite add up."
"What kind?"
"Medical records show she was treated for anxiety and severe depression during her university years. Severe enough that she took a semester off. But the timing doesn't match with what her academic records show. According to the university, she never missed any time."
Interesting.
"So her father covered up her psychological issues? Why would he do that?"
“Maybe he was embarrassed or thought it would prevent an alliance marriage,” he says. “There are other medical records, but they’re sealed. I can’t access them. Even with my contacts.”
The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupts my thoughts. Sofia is awake and I don’t want her hearing this conversation.
“Keep me informed,” I tell him and quickly hang up.
"Hey," she says from the doorway, wearing one of my shirts hanging above her knees again. I’ve never asked her why she prefers to wear my shirts instead of a robe.
“Is something wrong?" I ask.
She moves into the room, but there's something different about her posture today. More careful, almost timid. "I kept thinking about our conversation last night."
"Which part?"
"The part where you seemed to think I might not be who I claim to be."
