What We Left in the Dark

Six

How could I be so naïve as to think relatives, or as I know now, brothers, wouldn't talk about their women? Up until now, I had assumed that Luca was unaware of the history I shared with his brother and that our interactions were strictly professional. But that one sentence—"You know how persuasive he can be"—suggests otherwise.

The realization settles over me like a dense fog, thickening with every moment that passes. If Luca knows about my past with Giancarlo, it changes everything. It shifts the foundation of our budding professional relationship, casting a shadow over every interaction we've had. My mind races as I try to piece together when Luca might have discovered the truth. Was it something Giancarlo mentioned in passing? Or did Luca know all along, only choosing to reveal his knowledge now, in this subtle, offhand way?

I feel a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. What does this mean for the case? For the careful boundaries I've tried to establish between my personal life and my work? I need to find out how much Luca knows—and why he's chosen to address it now.

With these thoughts swirling, I force myself to focus on the immediate next steps. I need to handle this delicately, without tipping my hand. If I confront Luca directly, it could derail everything. But if I do nothing, I risk being blindsided later. The only way forward is to approach this strategically, just as I would any complex legal matter.

I decide to reach out to Luca, but with a different tone—a mix of professionalism and the curiosity that his comment has sparked in me. Picking up my phone, I draft a text message, keeping my words light but pointed.

"Luca, thank you again for your call tonight. As I've been thinking over our conversation, something you mentioned caught my attention—about knowing how persuasive Giancarlo can be. I'm curious what you meant by that. Let's discuss when we meet next. Catalina."

I read over the message a few times before hitting send. It's subtle enough not to raise alarm, but direct enough to let Luca know that I've noticed his comment. Now, all I can do is wait for his response.

Minutes pass, then an hour, with no reply from Luca. The unease continues to simmer just beneath the surface, refusing to be ignored. I know I won't be able to sleep until I have some clarity, so I do the only thing I can think of—I start digging.

I head to my desk, where I keep a secure, encrypted folder of documents that chronicle my work history, cases, and, most importantly, any significant personal entanglements that have crossed into my professional life. I know, it's very Capricorn of me. Giancarlo's name is in there, along with notes on our relationship and the circumstances of our breakup. I haven't looked at these files in years, but tonight, I need to refresh my memory.

As I pull up the folder, I'm reminded of how complicated things were with Giancarlo. The passion, the intense connection, and ultimately, the painful end. It was a relationship that had blurred too many lines, something I vowed never to repeat. I skim through the old emails, text exchanges, and meeting notes, trying to pinpoint anything that might give me insight into what Luca could know.

Then, I come across a message from Giancarlo that I had nearly forgotten about. It was sent just after our breakup, a cryptic text that left me uneasy at the time but that I chose to ignore:

"You know how I hate unfinished business, Catalina. Let's make sure this stays between us."

I remember feeling a chill when I first read it, but I brushed it off as another one of Giancarlo's attempts to exert control, even as our relationship ended. Now, with Luca's comment fresh in my mind, I wonder if there was more to it. Had Giancarlo been warning me? Or was it a veiled threat, meant to keep me from ever crossing paths with his family again?

As I close the folder, I feel a sense of foreboding that I can't shake. Luca's involvement in this case is no coincidence—it's something more, something tied to my past with his brother. And if I'm not careful, it could pull me back into a web I thought I'd escaped.

The phone buzzes, jolting me from my thoughts. It's a text from Luca:

"I apologize if my comment caused any concern. I simply meant that Giancarlo is a force to be reckoned with in business, as I'm sure you've experienced yourself. We'll discuss everything in more detail soon. Looking forward to our next meeting. Luca."

His message is smooth, almost too smooth. It doesn't reveal much, but it confirms one thing: Luca is aware, at least to some extent, of what happened between me and his brother. But whether he's using that knowledge as leverage, or simply acknowledging it, remains to be seen.