I’ve spent weeks digging and following up on leads. Part of that meant excavating Natalia’s background and linking Enzo to the murders of the people who tried to help her. I created timelines of his visits to New York and the subsequent wire transfers made to the cop who helped him. A cop that later died under mysterious circumstances.
Then there was the issue of Elizabeth, the woman he claimed was Nino’s mother. I’ve been working with Mrs. Hudson, and she turned over Elizabeth’s journals which detailed Enzo’s threats and abuse. Her last entry was an admission that she believed he would kill her, and the next day, she was gone. Enzo covered his tracks well, which is why he managed to fool so many of us for so long, but I knew his defense wasn’t bulletproof. He slipped up in his brother’s murder by leaving his own blood at the scene. His actions have proven that he acts on impulse, and he’s not a criminal mastermind. I was counting on that weakness to reveal a fatal flaw in at least one of his covers, but as it turned out, it wasn’t Enzo who fucked up and left something behind. It was Gwen.
On her hard drives, she had saved years’ worth of security footage from her house, including the day that Enzo assaulted Ricardo’s wife. Manuel discovered it late one night while he was helping in the search. He handed it over to me and told me to watch it before excusing himself from the room. He couldn’t stomach seeing it a second time, so I was prepared for the worst. I only managed to watch the footage exactly once, vomiting after I witnessed the things Enzo did to Ricardo’s wife. The situation took a violent turn when Ricardo showed up in the middle of it and tried to stop Enzo. Ricardo managed to pull him off her briefly but was subsequently stabbed to death with the knife Enzo carried. With his brother’s blood on his hands, he forced himself on Nicolette a second time before he killed her too.
The images have haunted me every night since. The thought I keep coming back to is that Gwen knew. She had to have known, because IVI searched for the footage but turned up nothing. She had hidden it, only returning it when Enzo was convicted, and there was no hope left. Why she would keep the video is beyond my comprehension, but I’m beginning to understand that Gwen was possibly just as sick in the head as Enzo is. She had always laid the blame for Ricardo’s death with Nicolette, condemning her for seducing Enzo. She had spent her life protecting Enzo and cleaning up his mistakes at the expense of everyone else. When she tried to kill Natalia, I was so blinded by my loyalty to the Marcone family I couldn’t see how deranged they were, but I see it now.
Enzo tried to portray himself as the victim in this situation. He reasoned away the DNA evidence left behind with the fact that Nicolette had come onto him, and he had a moment of weakness. He maintained that Ricardo killed her in a fit of rage and that Enzo had tried to stop him, but Ricardo had then turned on him. He said he had no choice but to kill his brother to save himself. The Tribunal never fully believed his version of events, and the evidence was contradictory. Without witnesses or footage, they could not determine that what had occurred warranted death. They’d sentenced him to life in prison instead. Now that they’ve received the actual footage, they can have no doubt to Enzo’s brutality. If all goes as planned at this hearing, it means Enzo could be dead by this evening. Natalia can rest peacefully, and I can be content that I’ve made him pay for the crimes he committed against her and the others.
“Traffic’s going to be a bitch right now,” I tell Angelo as I check my watch again. “Perhaps you should let them know we could be delayed.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll wait,” he assures me.
We reach the front door, and the sound of heels approaching makes me pause. Angelo taps me on the shoulder to get my attention, and when I turn, Natalia is lingering at the bottom of the staircase.
She looks beautiful today, but then she looks beautiful every day. Her long, dark hair is loose and free, the way I like it best. Her lipstick is red, and her dress is too. It kills me every time I see her in that color. Or any other color, really. It doesn’t matter what she wears. This hunger never goes away. The constant ache in my chest doesn’t either. She’s more than I deserve. More than anyone deserves.