Chapter 26 #2
your standing here.”
Aida nodded her understanding, her throat tight. “It won’t happen again.”
Fran gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Then we’ll move forward and put this behind us. You’ve done great work for us, and
I have no doubt you’ll continue to. Just . . . be sure to stay aligned with the expectations we’ve set.”
The car slowed to a stop near the bridge leading to the castle that was once the tomb of the ancient Roman Emperor Hadrian.
Fran gestured toward the door, her expression neutral but calm. “I’ll see you in a few months in London,” she said, her tone
lighter now as if the momentary tension had passed.
Aida unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car, her mind still racing but her breath a little steadier. As the black
car pulled away, she stood there momentarily, gathering herself.
Whatever happened next, she knew one thing for sure: There was no margin for error.
In the days that followed, Aida was on her best behavior, making sure every task was handled with precision, avoiding even the smallest misstep.
She spent more time at the palazzo, limiting her visits to Yumi’s and, with some regret, steering clear of Luciano altogether.
It was a sacrifice, but she couldn’t take the chance that their efforts might be discovered.
Aida managed to stay under the radar for a couple of weeks, focusing on work at Castel Sant’Angelo and keeping her head down.
But just when she thought she had found some semblance of balance, a call came in on her phone one Saturday afternoon in early
December while she was in the grand salon with Pippa, putting together the latest puzzle. She froze, her heart skipping a
beat when she saw the name on the screen: Graham.
Why would he, of all people, be calling her?
When she reached the sanctuary of her office, Aida looked at her phone again. Graham had left a brief voicemail. “Please,
Aida, call me. It’s about Erin.”
Her stomach dropped. Her first thought was that she wanted nothing to do with him or Erin, but the message was so strange
and his tone was so bleak that against her better judgment, she pressed Call.
The line barely rang before Graham picked up. “Aida?” His voice cracked. “Thank you for calling back.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, a knot tightening in her chest. “What about Erin?”
There was a long pause, the kind that made her wish she hadn’t called at all. “Aida, she . . . Erin caught the virus. She
was really sick, and she didn’t make it. She . . . she was your friend, and—I thought you would want to know.”
For a moment, Aida couldn’t speak. The air seemed to drain from the room. “What? When?”
“Two days ago,” Graham answered quietly. “I didn’t know how else to tell you. I thought you needed to know, given . . . everything.”
Aida sat down, her knees weak. Memories of Erin flashed through her mind. Their childhood—riding bikes, gossiping about boys, trading clothes. And then, her return into Aida’s life as an adult—cocktails, laughter, and all the moments in the weeks before the betrayal.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered, the words barely audible.
“I’m sorry, Aida. About everything. I know that she regretted . . .” He began to cough violently on the last word.
Aida felt a surge of anger and despair. “Are you sick too?”
“I . . . I got sick first. I didn’t take the restrictions seriously. I thought it was all just being blown out of proportion.”
Aida’s anger flared, his betrayal now mingled with blame. For all her frustration with Erin, she hadn’t wanted her to die.
“I should have been more careful. I’m so sorry, Aida. This is all my fault.” Graham’s voice broke, the guilt palpable even
through the phone.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Aida finally managed. “I can’t process this right now.”
“I understand,” Graham replied softly. “I just . . . thought you should know.”
Aida nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see her. The line was silent for a moment before she found her voice again. “Take
care, Graham.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Take care of yourself.”
Aida ended the call and sat in stunned silence, the phone slipping from her hand onto the desk. Her mind swirled with disbelief,
memories of Erin flashing in and out of focus. In a sudden burst of frustration, she grabbed the phone and hurled it across
the room. It hit the bookcase with a dull thud, knocking several books to the floor.
Moments later, Pippa appeared in the doorway. “Aida, what happened?”
Aida didn’t look up, her body trembling as the tears came.
Then Pippa was by her side, arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.
Somewhere amid her anger and grief, she understood that Pippa had waved off Ilario and Dante, and maybe even Trista, who had surely also come to see what had happened.
The sous-chef held her until she soothed.
Erin’s death wasn’t just the loss of a friend—it was the end of a chapter, a piece of her past she hadn’t truly confronted.
Erin had taken so much with her. The friendship and happy childhood memories. The relationship with Graham that Aida had thought
was unshakable, destroyed by someone she had trusted.
For what? Aida thought bitterly, her chest tightening again. For a fling? A brief moment of selfishness?
She had loved Erin. Hated her. She wasn’t sure which was more painful now.
The following morning, she met up with Yumi at the Torre Argentina Cat Sanctuary, an open-air archaeological site in the city
center, not far from the Roman Ghetto. It was a place Aida hoped she’d never have to catalog because she loved coming to spot
the cats that lived among the ruins of the Largo di Torre Argentina, where Julius Caesar had been murdered two thousand years
before. As Aida began to tell her friend about Erin, it wasn’t long before she was sobbing, and Yumi broke the two-meter distance
rule to fold Aida into her arms.
Yumi held her tight, letting Aida wet the wool collar of her coat. After several long minutes, Aida pulled away, wiping at
her eyes. She began to fumble in her coat pocket for a new mask to replace the wet one on her face. Before either of them
could speak, a sharp voice cut through the quiet of the archaeological site.
“Signore! Distanza! Mantenete la distanza!” A carabiniere was walking in their direction. He pointed sternly at them, his gloved hand gesturing to the two-meter rule.
Aida and Yumi immediately took a step apart, guilt and tension written across their faces as they nodded in apology. The officer
glared at them for a moment longer before moving on.
Yumi sighed, her breath still heavy with the weight of Aida’s grief. “Well, at least we’re still following some rules,” she
muttered under her breath.
Aida leaned against the railing, her gaze following a sleek calico cat as it stretched and padded away across the ruins.
The reprieve gave her a moment to steady herself, but her mind was still reeling.
“I can’t stop thinking about what Fran said.
” Aida’s voice was tight. “About consequences for our actions—almost like a warning.”
Yumi knitted her brow, waiting for her to continue.
Aida’s fingers gripped the railing as if to anchor herself. “Do you think . . .” She hesitated, swallowing hard. “Do you think
MODA had anything to do with Erin’s death?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. They destroyed the Colosseum, after all. How many people died in that event?”
“But lots of people have caught the virus . . . maybe . . .”
Yumi shook her head. “Um, Aida, the virus was their fault.”
Aida sighed. “Yeah. Plus, it’s just . . . the timing, everything. Erin suddenly came back into my life right before I moved
here and then she hooked up with Graham . . .” She could hardly say his name aloud without the anger returning, fresh and
burning.
Yumi’s expression darkened, her mind clearly racing to the same conclusions. “Maybe they pushed you toward Rome. Maybe MODA
orchestrated the whole thing—bringing Erin back, forcing your decision. And knowing your emotions were all twisted up about
her and Graham, it was a fitting punishment to get rid of her.”
A chill ran through Aida. The idea that she was a pawn in MODA’s grand scheme made her feel trapped, like her every move had
been orchestrated. It wasn’t just Erin’s death haunting her now—it was the thought that nothing in her life had truly been
hers.
“We have to find Effie,” she said for the hundredth time. “We have to.”
“We will, Aida. We will.”
Aida hoped so, because even with Sophie’s aegis, she didn’t know how she could stand in front of Fran again for another quarterly
meeting.