The Notebook Sofia Never Meant to Be Romantic
Chapter 10 - The Notebook Sofia Never Meant to Be Romantic
Adrian had hoped Sofia’s private notebook would be about family.
It was.
That was the problem.
Pages about Leo’s feeding schedule.
A list of names she hated for boys.
A recipe for lemon chicken.
Then:
Adrian still thinks fear is a management style.
He stopped reading.
Elina sat across the table.
“You don’t have to read it with me.”
“Yes.”
He continued.
Sofia had documented incidents.
A nightclub owner who paid after two men visited his house.
A contractor whose equipment disappeared after refusing a Valenti bid.
An illegal card room protected through police payments.
A dockworker injured during an “argument” with Valenti security.
Adrian knew some.
Not all.
That did not comfort him.
Sofia wrote:
He rarely tells them to hurt anyone.
He says things like fix it, handle it, make sure he understands.
Then he acts shocked when frightened men improvise violence.
Elina looked away.
The sentence resembled every other family in the story.
Power protecting itself with vague verbs.
Adrian read silently.
Then aloud:
“I love him.”
He stopped.
Elina’s chest tightened.
Sofia continued:
That is why this is difficult.
If he were cruel all the time, leaving would be easy.
There it was.
Not saint.
Not monster.
A husband.
A dangerous one.
The next page:
If Leo is born into this exact world, then I helped choose it for him.
Adrian closed the notebook.
His face had gone pale.
Elina waited.
After a minute:
“She was going to leave me.”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her.
She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed.
“The notebook suggests she was considering leaving.”
“Better.”
He opened it again.
Sofia had written a letter but never sent it.
Adrian—
I do not want your money to become the argument that I am safe.
I do not want armed men outside the pediatrician because you have enemies you refuse to stop creating.
I do not want Leo learning that a room loves you because it goes quiet.
Adrian’s eyes filled.
She planned to give him a choice.
Not family or business.
Change or separation.
Then the adoption investigation swallowed the timing.
The crash came first.
He looked at Elina.
“I thought we were happy.”
Elina thought before answering.
“Maybe you were.”
That hurt.
Good.
“Do you think she loved me?”
Elina’s expression tightened.
“Do not ask me to translate my dead sister’s marriage.”
He looked ashamed.
“You’re right.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“Sorry.”
Better.
Federal prosecutors requested a meeting.
Adrian’s attorney wanted him silent.
Adrian went anyway.
Not without counsel.
Not recklessly.
But voluntarily.
The government already knew about some Valenti operations.
Sofia’s notebook provided dates and internal names.
Adrian could deny.
Fight.
Spend years arguing every sentence.
Or begin separating crimes he committed, crimes he permitted, and crimes done without his knowledge.
Accuracy again.
He chose that.
The first meeting lasted seven hours.
Elina did not wait outside.
She went to work.
Important.
Orelio had taken her back after the immediate danger passed.
Her coworkers stared the first day.
Then complained about table twelve.
Normal life returned by force.
Emilio apologized for keeping Sofia’s secret.
Elina accepted the apology.
Not the choice.
Different.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Would I have believed you?”
“Probably not.”
“Still should have.”
“Yes.”
Good.
She picked up double shifts again.
Then stopped after realizing she no longer had to.
The civil case had not paid anything.
But Emilio promoted her to assistant floor manager after years of unofficially doing the work anyway.
More salary.
Fewer midnight closings.
She accepted.
Not because Sofia had once owned a piece of the restaurant’s history.
Because Elina knew the job.
Adrian texted rarely.
May I send Leo a photo?
May I bring him by Orelio before opening?
Would that make work weird?
Questions.
Annoying.
Good.
Elina usually said yes.
Sometimes no.
He survived both.
The federal investigation uncovered Adrian’s direct exposure.
Illegal gaming revenue.
Payments to a city inspector.
A protection scheme tied to two clubs.
No murder.
No drug trafficking.
No adoption conspiracy.
Still crimes.
Adrian’s lawyer said prosecutors might offer a plea because he cooperated early and surrendered records.
Possible sentence:
Six to twelve months.
Supervised release.
Forfeiture.
Business restrictions.
Adrian told Elina over coffee.
Not a date.
At least not named.
“Are you going to take it?”
“If the factual statement is accurate.”
She smiled faintly.
“You’ve become unbearable.”
“Your fault.”
“No.”
He corrected himself.
“My responsibility.”
“Better.”
He looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Then Leo dropped a spoon from his high chair.
Both reached.
Their hands touched.
Elina pulled back first.
Adrian did not chase the moment.
Good.
That evening, Teresa called.
The class-action attorneys had located another woman from the ledger.
A woman named Lillian Hart.
She had been adopted from St. Agnes the same year as Sofia.
She possessed letters from Samuel Rossi.
Not medical.
Business.
They described a private-placement fee schedule.
Babies categorized by “adoptability.”
Hair.
Skin tone.
Maternal background.
Health.
Elina felt physically ill.
Sofia’s placement amount:
$38,000.
Teresa’s daughter had been priced.
Not metaphorically.
A number.
Elina stared at the photocopy.
Then saw another notation.
Buyer:
V. ROSSI.
Approved by:
C. MARINO.
Celeste.
Not merely moving a baby because a doctor lied.
Her signature sat on the payment document.
When confronted, Celeste closed her eyes.
“I signed it.”
Elina’s stomach dropped.
“You said you thought Teresa surrendered.”
“I did.”
“Then why was there a price?”
“Private adoption fees existed.”
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“Did you receive money?”
“No.”
“Did you question it?”
“No.”
There.
Another layer.
Celeste had told the truth.
May you like
Just not all of it.
And Elina began to understand that remorse did not automatically make a witness complete.
