Chapter 73 Chapter 73

Chapter 73 Chapter 73
The House with Two Dead
The baby entered the mansion through the front door in her mother’s arms, and the two coffins came in through the service entrance.
Ethan had arranged it that way on purpose. He told Derek the exact time he wanted one thing and the exact time he wanted the other, forty minutes apart, so his wife wouldn’t have to cross paths in the foyer with the coffin of the woman who had stood in front of her in a warehouse.
It worked halfway. Laura went upstairs with the baby without seeing anything, but when Ethan came down from the bedroom two hours later, he found the great room with the curtains drawn, the chairs pushed against the wall, and two closed coffins in the center, one beside the other, made of the same wood and covered with the same flowers.
He stood in the doorway longer than necessary.
Yesterday we danced here.

Manuel was waiting for him in the study, with Alonso sitting across from him and an unopened bottle on the coffee table.
Ethan closed the door and remained standing.
“The wake is tomorrow in the great room,” the old man said. “Mass at eleven and the cemetery at two. I already spoke to the cardinal.”
“Good, Grandpa.”
Alonso straightened in the armchair.
“Father, we need to talk about that.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is.” Alonso rested his elbows on his knees. “They can’t be laid out together.”
Ethan turned his face toward his father for the first time since entering.

“Explain that to me,” Manuel said.
“I’ll explain. A hundred people are coming into that room tomorrow. Marcela’s friends, people from the church, women who have known her for thirty years. And we’re going to put both coffins together, hers and the son who shot her.” Alonso raised a hand. “I’m not defending what Marcelo did. I’m saying what will happen when those people walk in.”
“And what will happen?”
“They’ll stand in front of the two coffins trying to decide which one to pray for. And my son will be buried tomorrow with that label over him. Forever, Father. In this city, that never goes away.”
“He already has the label, Alonso.”
“Inside the family, yes. Outside, he doesn’t yet.”
Manuel adjusted his glasses.
“And what do you propose?”
“Two ceremonies. Marcela tomorrow, with the people and the church and everything she deserves. And we bury Marcelo the day after tomorrow, early, just the four of us and no one else.”
“In other words, secretly.”
“Privately.”
“It’s the same thing, son. Just said more beautifully.”

Ethan remained standing against the door.
His father looked at him.
“Ethan, tell him. You knew him better than I did.”
There it is.
Fifteen years without showing up, and he arrived with his hand out, asking his son to support his argument in front of his grandfather.
Ethan didn’t answer.
“Ethan.”
“Go on.”
“I’m asking for your opinion.”
“You two go on.”
Alonso stared at him for a moment, then turned back toward the old man, and that was when Ethan knew the argument had already been decided, even though neither of them would realize it for another five minutes.

Manuel stood up.
It was difficult, and he didn’t hide it, which was new. For twenty-five years, that man had gotten up from armchairs as if it cost him nothing.
He walked to the window with his cane and stood with his back to them.
“Alonso, this family has done worse things than what happened last night. My father buried a business partner and attended the wake. I sent men to places they never came back from and then sat down to eat with their widows. And not once, not once, did we hide one of our dead.”
“Father.”
“Let me finish. Your son killed your wife. That happened. It happened last night, at eleven twenty, in front of your other son and your pregnant daughter-in-law.” The old man turned around. “And if tomorrow we put one coffin in the great room and the other in some room at the back, what we’re telling this city is that the Cavaliers hide too when things get ugly.”
“We’re sparing a dead man a humiliation.”
“We’re sparing the living an uncomfortable situation, which isn’t the same thing.” Manuel returned to the table and placed both hands on the back of the armchair. “A funeral. Both coffins together, in the center, with the same flowers. And this family stands beside them to receive the people. All four of us, standing, for three hours.”
“Father, my son…”
“Your son was also my grandson, and I’m going to bury him looking people in the eye. If anyone feels uncomfortable deciding which of the two to pray for, let them pray for both or not come.”

Ethan still didn’t open his mouth.
His father turned toward him for the second time, and this time he didn’t ask him for anything: he simply searched his eyes.
He wants me to save him.
Ethan held his gaze and remained silent.
It lasted a few seconds. Then Alonso lowered his head, ran a hand through his hair, and leaned back against the chair.
“Fine,” he said. “A funeral.”
Manuel nodded once and sat down.
And Ethan, who hadn’t said even twelve words during the entire conversation, understood that he had just decided his mother’s and his brother’s burial without opening his mouth, which was exactly how the men of that house had been making decisions since before he was born.
Congratulations, Cavalier. You’re the old man now.

There were two knocks, and Derek entered without waiting.
“Boss. Mr. Manuel.”
“Go ahead.”
“There are two news vans on the corner of the avenue and another farther back by the south gate. They’ve been there since six. And I’ve just been informed that another crew is asking the parish for permission to set up across the street tomorrow.”
“Let them set up,” Manuel said. “Let them film the entire church. The more they see, the less they can make up.”
“Yes, sir. There’s something else.”
Derek pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inner pocket.
“The prosecutor’s office. They’re requesting formal statements about what happened at the warehouse. From the boss, Mrs. Laura, and Mr. Alonso, separately.”
“When?”
“They want them this week. I asked for fifteen days because of the mourning and the delivery, and they didn’t give me all of it. We have until Friday.”
Ethan finally pushed away from the door.
“My wife gave birth eighteen hours ago.”
“I told them, Boss.”
“Tell them again. And if they insist, have the lawyer remind them that the woman they want to question is the same woman they pulled out of a warehouse at eight and a half months pregnant, and that will also be in the file.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“I’ll give them my statement whenever they want. Today, if necessary.”
Derek nodded and left.

Manuel poured himself two fingers of liquor and didn’t drink it.
“Son, go upstairs and see your wife.”
“I’ll go in a little while.”
“Go now. That girl gave birth eighteen hours ago, and no one in this house has taken her anything but coffee.”
“Gloria took her food twice.”
“Gloria isn’t her husband.”
Ethan walked toward the door.
And there, when his hand was already on the doorknob, his father spoke behind him.
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
“Before tomorrow, I need to talk to you. Just the two of us.”
“Tomorrow is the funeral, Alonso.”
“That’s why it has to be before.” Alonso stood from the armchair. “There’s something you need to hear from my mouth and no one else’s. And if I don’t tell you before we bury your mother, then I’ll never be able to tell you.”