Mr. Scarpa

The doorbell rang.

Montana's hand froze over her phone, the screen still glowing from the message.

“Pregnant.” “You’re over a week along.”

No. No, no, no. Ben didn’t want kids.

She had planned to wait until the weekend to tell him gently, with that honeyed tea he liked and a slice of almond cake. But now—

The doorbell rang again. Sharper this time.

“It’s probably him,” she thought. “He came back... maybe he forgot his laptop.”

She stood, her heart rattling in her chest. The house was a bit too quiet today. Her mother-in-law had already gone to the elderly center where Ben had dropped her off. She should still be out playing with her fellow oldies.

Montana opened the door, and froze.

Two men stood on the other side, in uniform. They were the Italian Polizia (Police).

The taller one took a long and tired breath, like the words in his mouth weighed him down, before he stepped back. The other leaned forward.

“Are you Montana Rossi?” the shorter one asked.

Montana blinked. “Yes, Mr. Policeman. Why?”

The taller one removed his cap. “I’m Officer Bridge. This is Officer Ferrari beside me. Do you mind if we come inside?”

Her stomach twisted.

“My mother-in-law’s not home. My husband just left... He dropped her off and went to work, so I might not be able to let you both in. Is something wrong?”

Officer Ferrari’s face didn’t change from the strong way it was but his jaw twitched.

“You’re married to Benedetto Rossi?” he asked.

Montana nodded, feeling a chill from nowhere sweep into her bones. “Yes. I’m his wife.”

“He’s dead.”

Just like that. There was no warning, no preamble. Her world collapsed.

“What?” Her voice cracked, tiny and broken.

Officer Bridge spoke next. “Your husband was murdered by multiple gunshots to his car. I’m afraid... he didn’t make it.”

The ground tilted and Montana's legs nearly gave out. ‘No. No, not Ben. Not my Ben.’

She stepped aside, her voice hollow. “Please… come in.”

The officers walked into the house slowly like they were bringing a curse with them.

The house still smelled of Ben’s cologne, and rosemary. Montana had made focaccia that morning for him. For them the three of them.

The officers didn’t sit. They didn’t look around either. They just stood there and let the silence stretch out for a while, giving her the opportunity to process what they had said earlier. After a minute…

“Your husband wasn’t alone,” Officer Bridge said. “There was a woman with him. Vittoria Scarpa. Do you know her?”

Montana’s mouth opened. “That’s... Mr. Scarpa’s wife. Mr. Scarpa is Ben’s boss.”

Like she suddenly realized what she said, she frowned. “Why would Ben be with her in his car instead of his mother?”

Officer Ferrari’s lip twitched. “It seems they were having an affair.”

The words struck like lightning. Montana couldn't believe that. That was a joke.

“No,” she breathed. “That’s not true. Ben wouldn’t…”

Her knees trembled. She had to hold the wall to keep from collapsing.

Officer Bridge continued, “They had luggages in the trunk for both of them and over a million euros in cash. And also they had plane tickets to Dublin.”

Montana shook her head. “Our luggages are here. Upstairs. Nothing’s missing. Maybe he was just taking her to the airport…”

The look they gave her was worse than cruelty. It was pity.

Officer Ferrari spoke next, his tone flat. “Vittoria was found naked. Mr. Rossi’s pants were unzipped and his belt was loose. Mrs. Vittoria’s neck was also covered in hickeys.”

Montana’s world cracked in two. No... no, no... Ben wouldn't...

She whispered, “He’s loyal. He’s not like that. We were married and he... he made vows.”

“There was a letter,” Officer Bridge didn't stop. “This Letter was written by Mrs. Vittoria herself where she addressed her husband about the whole affair. She and Mr. Rossi, your husband, planned to run away together.”

Montana couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think.

Had it all been a lie? Was every kiss fake? Every whispered “Ti amo”, was it rehearsed?

Officer Bridge lowered his voice. “You should check your finances, ma’am. The money didn’t come from the Scarpa’s accounts. We believe... your husband drained yours.”

“No...” Her voice came out as a broken whisper. This was too much.

Officer Ferrari handed her a folder. “You’ll need to come to the station to collect what’s left.”

Inside the folder there was Ben’s phone, his wristwatch, numbers, addresses. There was also a contact for a funeral home.

Ben was gone, but the damage he left behind… was eternal.

Montana wandered the house like a ghost after they left. She sat in the kitchen, the rosemary scent still clinging to her clothes, thinking. She opened his email finally, and there was where she found the truth.

The money transfers, the secret mortgage, the credit cards she never applied for. The debt that would soon bury her!

Her husband didn’t just die, he destroyed everything. He hadn’t just betrayed her, he’d abandoned them. He'd left her with ashes, with debts, and with a child he would never meet.

There would be no funeral. Just cremation because that was all she could afford.

Her hands trembled. ‘They warned me,’ she thought. ‘Dad. Mama. Everyone said not to marry an Italian man. They told me to come home and find a better man.’

But she hadn’t listened. She had believed in him and in love. And now… now, everything was gone.

***

The next morning….

She didn’t even hear the footsteps behind her.

“Mrs. Rossi.”

She turned. It was him. “Mr. Scarpa.”

It was then the memory of that night at the gala came crashing all at once….