62
LUCA BELLANDI
On the screen in front of me, the press room in Como was packed.
Bianchi and the finance director sat at the table; Sofia was in the front row. In the foundation’s private room in S?o Paulo, a technician checked the sound. I stood in front of the camera with the version Gabriela had read. The communications director called minutes before the broadcast.
“They’ll ask about the children even if the statement doesn’t mention them.”
“We won’t confirm information they haven’t chosen to make public.”
“And the relationship?”
“I’ll say what’s in the statement. Nothing else.”
I ended the call and put the phone aside. I wore a dark suit without a tie. The statement had been revised to avoid compromising the investigation or exposing details about the children. When they told me we were live, I looked into the lens.
“The Bellandi Group has submitted documents and statements to the authorities concerning suspected falsification, threats, and misuse of company resources. My brother, Lorenzo Bellandi, has been suspended. The investigation must examine his involvement and that of others named in the material.”
The room erupted in questions. I waited.
“Some of those documents were used to convince me that a woman I was in a relationship with had deceived me. Accusations were also circulated about her work. The project’s oversight records do not support those accusations, and the group will issue a public correction.”
My mouth went dry, but I continued.
“There are discrepancies between medical reports I received and records preserved by the laboratory. I will not prejudge who was responsible for each alteration. I have handed over the material in my possession.
“That does not erase my choices. I accused her without checking the information she offered. I used my power to humiliate her and rejected further attempts at contact. Those decisions were mine.”
I glanced down at the page before continuing.
“I will not confirm personal information about children or comment on this woman’s romantic life. Please do not treat my statement as permission to seek them out.”
A journalist raised his voice.
“If documents were hidden, how could you have known the truth?”
“Not all of them were hidden. People spoke to me directly, and there were documents I could have read. I refused to verify them.”
“Are you confirming that there are unacknowledged heirs?” a journalist asked.
“I won’t discuss children in this interview.”
“But is the group’s succession at stake?”
“The board will put a review of the family agreement before the shareholders. Bianchi will explain which decisions have been made and which still require approval.
“My departure from operational leadership is already in effect. The initial reserve for wages and essential payments has been approved, and my contribution has been transferred. The finance director will present the available funds and the terms still under negotiation.”
Bianchi introduced the interim management team, and the director answered questions about upcoming payments. I remained on-screen during the questions. When the moderator returned to me, a journalist brought up the personal matter again.
“Has the mother of your children forgiven you?”
“I won’t answer for her.”
“But your relationship prompted decisions that affect shareholders.”
“You can ask me about my decisions and the group’s resources. Not about her feelings.”
“Do you expect to return as president?”
The question made me look at Bianchi on-screen.
“I don’t know. First I need to answer to the investigation.”
“Don’t you consider yourself a victim of the conspiracy?”
“The documents indicate that I was deceived. But I was the one who humiliated her. I’m also handing over the records of my own conduct.”
The moderator announced the final question. A reporter asked whether I had anything to say directly to the woman I’d mentioned. I looked into the camera.
“Whatever I have to say to her, I’ll say in private.”
When the broadcast ended, the team released a summary of the approved measures, with no identifying information about the victims, and the contact details for the external reporting channel. I stayed seated in front of the switched-off camera.
Later, the people running the channel told us new reports had come in. They gave me no names or details. Each account would need to be investigated. Sofia called before I left the room.
“Are you alone?”
I ran a hand over my face.
“I am now.”
“I wish I could be there for a little while.”
Her voice broke. I remembered my father’s funeral, her hands holding my face when I thought I couldn’t make it through the chapel door.
“Let me know when you reach Paraty,” she asked.
My phone vibrated. Gabriela’s message held only four words:
“You told the truth.”
I read it twice before replying:
“Thank you for listening.”
Late that afternoon, as the driver took me back, I spoke to the children. Noah told me he’d built a bridge from blocks and Heitor had knocked it down trying to balance a dinosaur on it. I asked whether they’d managed to rebuild it.
“It’s different now,” Noah said.
“Is that bad?”
“The dinosaur fits now!” Heitor shouted in the background.
Gabriela took the phone.
“They’ve spent all afternoon on it,” she said, laughing.
I heard pieces tumbling and wanted to be on the floor with them.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You’ll have to help tomorrow. You promised to build the garage.”
“I’ll look for the pieces with you.”
The call ended when the car lost reception. I rested my head against the seat. I still had to answer to the auditors and give statements, but that night I would sleep in the rental house. In the morning, I would go to the guesthouse.