Chapter 5: The Man Who Came Back From the Dead
The man was waiting in the estate's underground security room.
Two guards stood on either side of him.
His hands were cuffed behind his back, and his face was bruised.
But when I walked through the door, he raised his head.
My breath caught.
It wasn't Enzo Bellini.
Not anymore.
The man sitting in front of me had removed his baseball cap. His gray hair was thinning, and deep lines crossed his forehead.
But I knew those eyes.
I had seen them every morning when I looked in the mirror.
“Dad?””
His lips parted.
“Elena.””
My knees nearly gave way.
Dante caught my elbow.
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.””
He immediately released me.
I walked closer.
“Where have you been?””
My father looked down.
“I can explain.””
I laughed.
The sound came out broken.
“Twenty-six years, Dad. You have twenty-six years to explain.””
His eyes filled with tears.
“I know.””
“Do you?””
“Elena—”
“Do you know what happened after you left? Do you know how many nights Mom waited for you? Do you know how many times I asked her whether you were coming home?””
He lowered his head.
“I know.””
“No, you don't!””
My voice echoed around the concrete room.
“I was twelve years old! I thought you had died. Then I thought you had found another family. Then I thought maybe I wasn't good enough for you to stay!””
My father closed his eyes.
“I never stopped loving you.””
I shook my head.
“Love isn't supposed to disappear for twenty-six years.””
Dante stood behind me, silent.
For once, he didn't interfere.
My father looked at him.
“Get her away from this place, Moretti.””
Dante stepped forward.
“Choose your next words carefully.””
My father laughed bitterly.
“Still playing the protective father, Dante? How touching.””
Dante's eyes hardened.
“You're in my house. You came to my gate using the identity of a dead man. You will explain yourself.””
My father looked at me.
“Not in front of him.””
I folded my arms.
“Then you shouldn't have come to his house.””
He swallowed.
“Your mother trusted me with something. Something that could destroy this family.””
“The ledger?””
He nodded.
“Yes.””
“Why did you steal it?””
“Because I discovered what they were doing.””
“Who?””
“The Morettis.””
Dante's jaw tightened.
“My family has many enemies, Mr. Rossi. You need to be more specific.””
My father looked at him with open contempt.
“Your grandfather was moving money through shell companies. He was financing operations that were supposed to remain secret. People were disappearing.
Witnesses were being paid off. And anyone who asked questions was threatened.””
Dante didn't react.
“Continue.””
“Your grandfather had a list of people who were being targeted. Politicians, judges, businessmen. He called it the Black Ledger.””
I stared at my father.
“And you took it?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because your mother found out that one of the names on that list belonged to someone she loved.””
“Who?””
My father looked at me.
“Isabella.””
Dante moved.
“What did you just say?””
My father met his eyes.
“Your wife was on the list.””
The room fell silent.
Dante stepped closer.
“Why?””
“Because Isabella's father had discovered what your grandfather was doing. He threatened to go to the authorities. Your grandfather decided the entire family needed to disappear.””
Dante's expression was terrifyingly calm.
“My grandfather told me Isabella died in a car accident.””
“That's what he wanted you to believe.””
My stomach twisted.
“What happened to her?””
My father looked down at his cuffed hands.
“Your mother tried to help her.””
I felt my throat close.
“Mom knew Isabella?””
“Yes. They met through a charity program at St. Catherine's.
Your mother was volunteering there. Isabella was helping at the children's ward.””
“And?””
“They became friends.””
I remembered the photograph.
My mother and Isabella as a little girl.
But that picture was twenty-six years old.
My father continued.
“Your mother discovered that Isabella was being watched. She came to me with the information. We tried to get her out.””
Dante's voice was barely audible.
“Did she survive?””
My father looked at him.
“No.””
Dante's face changed.
Not dramatically.
Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice.
But I saw his shoulders stiffen.
“Tell me how she died.””
“She was being driven to a safe house when another vehicle forced her car off the road.””
Dante gripped the back of a chair.
“Who ordered it?””
“Salvatore.””
The name seemed to poison the air.
Dante looked at the floor.
“My grandfather died believing she had been killed by a rival family.””
My father shook his head.
“He knew exactly what happened.””
Dante turned away.
For a moment, I thought he might strike something.
Instead, he took a slow breath.
“Why didn't you tell me this eleven years ago?””
“Because I couldn't trust you.””
“You could have sent a message.””
“I did.””
“When?””
“Three days after Isabella's funeral. I left a letter at your office.””
Dante looked at him.
“I never received it.””
“Your grandfather intercepted it.””
My father leaned forward.
“He controlled everything, Dante. Your phone calls, your meetings, your mail. He wanted you obedient. And when you started asking questions about Isabella, he made sure you stopped.””
Dante stared at him.
I suddenly understood something.
The man who had raised Dante had also carefully constructed the world in which he lived.
And now the truth was tearing it apart.
“Where is the ledger?”” Dante asked.
My father looked at me.
“Your mother hid it.””
“Where?””
“Under the old chapel.””
Dante straightened.
“We're going there.””
“No,” my father said.
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“You don't give orders in my house.””
My father ignored him.
“It's a trap.””
“Why?””
“Because the ledger isn't the only thing hidden there.””
He turned toward me.
“Your mother left something for you, Elena. Something she wanted you to have when you were old enough to understand.””
I stepped closer.
“What?””
“A recording.””
My heart began pounding.
“What recording?””
“Your mother's voice. She recorded it shortly before she died.””
I covered my mouth.
“She knew she was going to die?””
My father looked away.
“She knew she was in danger.””
Tears blurred my vision.
“Why didn't you bring it to me?””
“Because I was being watched. Every move I made was monitored. I thought keeping my distance was the only way to keep you alive.””
I stared at him.
“You could have called. You could have sent a letter. You could have told someone.””
“I tried.””
“Then why didn't you?””
He looked at Dante.
“Because every person I trusted ended up dead.””
A long silence followed.
Then Dante spoke.
“Who else knows about the chapel?””
My father hesitated.
“Salvatore knew.””
“He's dead.””
“Yes.””
“Who else?””
My father looked at me.
“Isabella.””
Dante's expression darkened.
“And?””
My father swallowed.
“Your mother.””
I felt a strange chill.
“That's impossible. They're both dead.””
My father shook his head.
“No, Elena. You're missing the point.””
He leaned forward.
“Your mother and Isabella arranged for the ledger to be moved. They left something beneath the chapel that wasn't meant for the Morettis.””
“What?””
“Proof.””
“Proof of what?””
He looked directly at Dante.
“Proof that someone inside this family ordered both women killed.””
Dante's phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“Vittorio?””
The reply was so loud that I could hear it from across the room.
“Boss, we have a security breach.””
Dante's expression hardened.
“Where?””
“The old chapel.””
My father closed his eyes.
“It's too late.””
Dante turned toward him.
“What do you mean?””
My father looked at me.
“Because the person who went there knows the secret passage.””
“Who?””
My father whispered a name.
“Your grandmother.””
Dante froze.
“My grandmother died before I was born.””
My father shook his head.
“No, Dante.””
He looked at the ceiling.
“She didn't die.””
We reached the chapel twenty minutes later.
The estate's private grounds were surrounded by ancient trees, and the old stone building stood at the edge of a wooded hill.
I had expected something grand.
Instead, the chapel was small and weathered, with a narrow wooden door and faded religious paintings.
Dante helped me out of the vehicle.
“Stay behind me.””
“I can walk.””
“I know.””
“Then stop treating me like glass.””
He glanced at my bandaged shoulder.
“You have forty-two pieces of glass removed from your back.””
“Forty-two. I remember.””
He almost smiled.
Then the chapel door opened.
Vittorio emerged, his expression grim.
“Boss.””
“What happened?””
“Someone got inside. The floor beneath the altar has been opened.””
“Did they take anything?””
Vittorio shook his head.
“No. But they left something.””
He handed Dante a small velvet box.
Inside was a silver necklace.
I recognized it instantly.
My mother's necklace.
The one missing from my apartment.
My hands began shaking.
There was a tiny folded note beneath it.
Dante opened it.
I read the words over his shoulder.
*THE DAUGHTER WILL PAY FOR WHAT HER MOTHER STOLE.*
Then, from somewhere inside the chapel, a woman's voice spoke.
“Hello, Dante.””
He turned.
A woman stepped out from behind the altar.
She was elderly, elegantly dressed, and leaning on a polished wooden cane.
Her silver hair was pulled into a perfect bun.
Dante stared at her as though he were looking at a ghost.
“Grandmother?””
She smiled.
“It's been a long time, darling.””
Then her eyes moved to me.
“And you must be Elena.””
May you like
She tilted her head.
“You have your mother's eyes.””
