31

31

Isabella's POV

There was a horrible tension in the conference room as Victor displayed the documents I had taken from Aaron's safe. My hands were shaking in my lap, and I could hardly breathe as I watched my bloody betrayal play out in front of the most powerful men of the Italian underworld.

"As you can determine from these communications," Victor stated, loudly enough to pierce through the stillness of the chamber, "Aaron Romano has been making backchannel overtures to the Castellanos in New York about territorial understandings that would negatively affect our operations in Southern Italy."

I glanced at Aaron beside me. His face was molded into what appeared like real shock and disbelief as he looked at the papers Victor held. If nothing else, he was a marvellous actor, or perhaps it was really because he wasn’t quite prepared for this degree of treachery from his own brother.

“These are grave accusations, Victor,” said Don Marcello, an elder of the family, his face etched with concern. “You’re saying Aaron is guilty of treason against the family.”

“I don’t say that I am,” answered Victor, with a certain assurance. "I'm proving it."

He handed copies of the documents to each person seated at the table. Aaron received his in the mail, and I watched his face for a reaction, hoping to see a spark of recognition for his fake, self-created evidence. But he appeared genuinely puzzled, studying the papers alongside everybody else in the same state of confusion.

"These dates...“ Aaron spoke slowly, lifting his head from the papers. "Victor, some of these conversations were when I wasn't even in the country,".

"Details can be twisted," Victor waved away. “What counts is the total pattern.”

But Don Marcello was scrutinizing his version of the text with the trained eyes of a man who had spent decades in this business. "Wait, Aaron kind of has a point here. This one here is March 15th but I know that Aaron was in Milan the entire week in the Rossi negotiations.”

My stomach twisted as other family members began to examine the documents more closely.

“And this signature,” another elder said, “it doesn’t quite look right. The ʼA in Aaron’s signature typically features much more of a flourish.”

"Are you accusing these records of being forged?" Victor inquired, but I could detect a twinge of doubt entering his voice.

“I am not saying shit till I know more about I wanna know if I'm accusing them of something that can tear this family apart,” Don Marcello added sternly.

Those of the northern syndicate whom Victor had brought down, were looking-talldaddies-and towering much tired. One of them, the thin one with the cold eyes, stepped up.
"Romano," he said to Victor, "we were promised real evidence of betrayal, not unverified papers that might or might not be real."

“The documents are authentic,” Victor protested, but now there were beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Then account for that”, Don Marcello said pointing at that part. “This is a paper that mentions a meeting that ostensibly took place at the Grand Hotel Milano, but that hotel has been closed since February for reconstruction. Those conversations could not have taken place there.”

The significance of this sank into me and my blood turned cold. The documents I had stolen didn’t exist. They had to be. The evidence was there for all to see — conflicting dates, implausible settings, forged signatures.

But if the papers were forged, that meant …

I glanced at Aaron with a new respect, watching his serene smile while the family elders ripped through Victor's evidence. Aaron was not surprised, not confused — he was expecting this to happen. For Victor to be fully uncovered.

“There are other inconsistencies,” another elder noted. "Bank records referring to accounts that never existed, times of meetings that don't correlate with documented syndicate affairs. Victor, where did you get these papers?"

“From a good source,” Victor answered, but his confidence wavered.

"What source?" Don Marcello pressed.

Victor glanced over at me for a second and I almost stopped breathing. He wouldn’t drag me into this, would he? He'd promised to protect me.
"I... I have to protect my source.”

"Their protection, or yours?" For the first time since accusations began, Aaron spoke, his voice a deadly calm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Aaron stood up slowly, "You've handed this family trumped up garbage in an effort to frame me for crimes I didn't do."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? Victor, these are some fake-ass documents, a first-year law student could find what’s wrong with them. Did you honestly believe you could con men who've been in this business for 30 years?”

There was an outburst of angry whispers, as the extent of Victor's duplicity became apparent to everyone. The northern syndicate reps looked particularly threatening, their faces set with anger at being yanked around.

“You did not bring us here as you told us, in good faith,” said the thin man to Victor, his voice like ice. “You lied to us and showed us amateur forgeries.”

"No, wait," Victor said desperately. "There must be an explanation. When I got these documents, they were authentic. They must have been switched, or..."

He was thrashing now, hurling wild accusations in an effort to save himself.

“Or,” Aaron said evenly, “you cooked the books because you could find no evidence of the book having been cooked. Because there isn't any."

"You're lying!" Victor shouted. "I know what you are, Aaron! I’ve heard about your shady deals!”

"What secret dealings? The ones described in these pitiful forgeries?”

Frozen in my chair, I watched the two brothers square off, surrounded by the room full of dangerous men who were watching. This was already spinning out of control, and I was scared to imagine what was next.

The northern syndicate agents were already on their feet; they were clearly getting ready to leave and most likely to make Victor pay for their time.

"Now shut up and leave," Don Marcello declared. “Victor, these charges are not only false, they are an insult to this family and to our intelligence.”

"But the documents—"

"Are forgeries. Poorly made ones at that."

As the old ones started to leave, looking disgusted, I glanced at Aaron. He didn’t seem surprised or relieved that this came to pass — he looked like a man whose plan had just gone off without a hitch.

That's when it hit me.

Aaron had suspected this would happen. And somehow he had known about Victor's plan and was ready for it. The documents that had been stolen from me were not actual evidence of Aaron’s misdeeds, but bait in a trap that Aaron had been setting up for his brother.

I was set up by both of them.

Victor and Rita Everyone else had no love for Victor, and as they departed, his own northern crime brotherhood also turned their back to him with angry glares, I realized Victor had been gamed worse than I was. And Victor was convinced those documents were authentic. He’d bet his reputation, maybe his position, perhaps his life on evidence crafted to obliterate him.

Aaron had used both of us, though he had used Victor much more brutally.

“This ain't over,” Victor told Aaron as the room cleared out.

"Uh huh," Aaron said softly, "it is."