Page 341 of Niccolo

But it was actually a fantastic bit of strategy.

Yes, by calling Fausto to testify,Iwould now get a crack at him –

But by questioning Fausto first, she could paint the pictureshewanted the dons to see:

A victim.

A poor old man betrayed by his nephews.

I would be left trying to tear apartherversion rather than painting my own portrait of a villain who had murdered his own brother.

“Preposterous or not,” Don Severino said, “we will now hear from Fausto Rosolini.”

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Sofia did a masterful job.

She brought up nearlyeverything.

Every attack, every incident – the Turk, Mezzasalma, the theft of our funds.

And in doing so, she aired out Fausto’s dirty laundry before I could.

She allowed everyone to get over the shock of the worst of his treachery – and she painted a picture where he was the innocent party, falsely blamed by his greedy nephews.

For instance:

“I understand your brother Leonardo died last year,” she said at one point.

Fausto looked dejected. “Yes… yes, it was incredibly sad. I thought it was a heart attack – we all did – but apparently, an old servant woman wormed her way into our household and gave him an injection of a deadly drug. It was revenge for Leo ordering her husband and son killed years ago in Sicily.”

At the mention of ‘Sicily,’ the vast majority of dons got a knowing look on their face.

You killed a Sicilian woman’s family?!

No wonder she sought revenge!

Then Fausto’s expression turned to anger.

“But I’ve heard my nephews blameme.ThatIsomehow placed her in the household and told her to give my brother an injection. That’s how greedy they are. They want to claw back the territory I inherited when my brother died, so they invent lies about me murdering him.”

I snorted when he saidthe territory I inherited.

Anything he had, he possessed because my brothers and Igaveit to him. He had been owed nothing. His territory, his property – it had all been a gift.

Back then, we were too blind to see what a vicious traitor he was.

Sofia’s next question was a humdinger.

“Are you willing to swear on something holy to you that you had nothing to do with your brother’s death?” she asked.

“I am,” Fausto said. He looked around the room at all the other dons. “I swear on my son Aurelio’s soul that I hadnothingto do with Leonardo’s death.”

On the one hand, I was shocked he would profane his son’s memory with an outright lie.

But then… for the briefest of seconds… evenIbegan to question.

Maybe he DIDN’T have anything to do with Papa’s death.

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