Chapter 3 - The West Cellar
The closet door opened three inches.
Luca moved in front of me.
“Come out.”
Nothing.
He raised the weapon.
“Now.”
A hand appeared.
Then a terrified teenage boy stepped out.
I recognized him immediately.
“Daniel?”
My neighbor's son.
Sixteen.
Skinny.
Usually wearing headphones.
Now barefoot and shaking.
“Please don't shoot.”
Luca lowered the gun.
“What are you doing here?”
Daniel looked at me.
“I saw two men break into your apartment.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Why were you inside?”
“I called the police.”
“Did they come?”
He shook his head.
“I waited. Then I heard somebody coming back and climbed through the fire escape window.”
Luca's eyes narrowed.
“You hid in the closet?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the men?”
“One.”
“Describe him.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Older. Gray hair.”
My stomach dropped.
“Vittorio?”
Daniel looked confused.
I showed him a photograph.
He nodded immediately.
“That guy.”
Luca's expression turned cold.
“Anyone else?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked toward the floor.
“I didn't see his face.”
“What did you see?”
“A ring.”
“What kind?”
“Gold. Black stone.”
Luca stopped.
I noticed.
“You know it?”
“No.”
“You do.”
He looked at Daniel.
“Anything else?”
“The guy with the ring kept saying they had to find a notebook before midnight.”
The cookbook.
“Did they find it?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“One of them pulled something from behind the refrigerator.”
I frowned.
The notebook had been on top of the refrigerator.
Why would it be behind it?
Unless my father had hidden something else.
I moved toward the kitchen.
Luca followed.
I pulled the refrigerator forward with his help.
Dust.
A dead outlet.
Then a piece of black tape.
Under it was a tiny brass key.
My father's key.
Daniel whispered, “They didn't find that.”
I held it in my palm.
Stamped into the metal was a number.
Luca stared at it.
“That isn't for my cellar.”
“How do you know?”
“Old Bellandi estate keys use four digits.”
“Safety deposit box?”
“Maybe.”
My phone buzzed again.
11:12 PM.
Forty-eight minutes until midnight.
Matteo.
I closed my hand around the key.
“We're going.”
“No.”
I looked at Luca.
“He's my brother.”
“And the message says to bring you alone.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the person waiting doesn't care about the notebook anymore.”
“They want me.”
“Exactly.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“I go.”
“They'll kill Matteo.”
“They may kill him anyway.”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the apartment.
Daniel's mouth opened.
I stared at Luca in horror.
I had never hit anyone in my life.
His face barely moved.
A red mark appeared slowly along his cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“You're angry.”
“You said they might kill my brother like you were discussing traffic.”
“I said it because you need to understand the risk.”
“He's twenty-four.”
“I know.”
“He's my baby brother.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Something changed in Luca's eyes.
“My younger sister was nineteen when she died.”
I stopped.
He had never mentioned a sister.
“I couldn't save her,” he said. “Because I believed doing exactly what the kidnappers demanded would keep her alive.”
The room became silent.
“What happened?”
“I went alone.”
My anger disappeared.
“And?”
“They had already killed her.”
I looked at the floor.
“I'm sorry.”
“So am I.”
He stepped closer.
“I will not tell you Matteo is safe. I don't know that. But I will tell you walking into that cellar alone gives them two hostages instead of one.”
I hated that he was right.
“What do we do?”
“We make them believe you're alone.”
The old Bellandi estate stood forty minutes outside the city.
We had thirty-eight.
Luca called Aldo.
No answer.
Called again.
Nothing.
His jaw tightened.
“Is that unusual?”
“Yes.”
He tried security headquarters.
This time someone answered.
“Where's Aldo?”
Pause.
“When?”
Luca's expression changed.
He hung up.
“What?”
“Aldo left the mansion twenty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
I remembered the ring.
Gold.
Black stone.
“Does Aldo wear a ring?”
Luca looked at me.
“No.”
Relief.
Then he added:
“My uncle did.”
“Did?”
“He's dead.”
“How?”
“Supposedly.”
That was not the answer I wanted.
We reached the estate at 11:53.
The house had been abandoned for years.
Luca's father had lived there until his death.
A massive stone structure sat behind iron gates.
No lights.
No visible guards.
Luca's men stopped their vehicles half a mile away.
He gave me a small transmitter.
“Keep this under your collar.”
I tucked it inside.
“And if they search me?”
“They probably will.”
“Helpful.”
He handed me a second device.
“This looks like a button.”
“What is it?”
“Panic signal.”
“What happens when I press it?”
“I come in.”
“Regardless?”
“Regardless.”
I looked at him.
“You don't follow orders well either, do you?”
“No.”
For the first time, I understood why people followed him.
Not because he was fearless.
Because he knew exactly what fear cost.
We approached the west side alone.
A cellar door stood beneath stone steps.
Rust covered the hinges.
I looked at Luca.
“Stay back.”
He hated it.
I could tell.
But he nodded.
I opened the door.
Darkness.
A single light glowed below.
I descended.
My heels had been replaced with boots.
Good.
The cellar smelled like damp stone and old wine.
Rows of empty racks created narrow corridors.
“Matteo?”
Nothing.
“Matteo!”
A muffled sound.
I moved toward it.
He sat in the same chair from the photograph.
Hands tied.
Mouth taped.
Alive.
I ran to him.
Before I reached him, a voice came from the darkness.
“Stop.”
I froze.
Vittorio stepped into the light.
My uncle held a gun.
“You came.”
“Let him go.”
“Where's Luca?”
“I came alone.”
“Don't insult me.”
He gestured with the weapon.
Two men appeared behind me.
They searched me.
Found the transmitter.
One crushed it under his shoe.
Vittorio smiled.
“I told you not to bring him.”
“He isn't here.”
“Then you won't mind proving it.”
He picked up my phone.
“Call him.”
“No.”
He pressed the gun against Matteo's head.
My brother struggled.
“Call.”
I did.
Luca answered immediately.
“Elena?”
I forced my voice steady.
“I found Matteo.”
“Where are you?”
Vittorio nodded.
“At the estate.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Too long.
He knew I was lying.
“Is Matteo safe?”
“Yes.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
I put every bit of meaning I could into the word.
“No, Luca. Stay where you are.”
Silence.
Then:
“Understood.”
The line disconnected.
Vittorio smiled.
“Good girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“No. That's the problem.”
“What does that mean?”
He walked toward a stone wall.
Pressed one brick.
A panel opened.
Behind it was a metal safe.
“Your father became difficult near the end.”
“My father trusted you.”
“Your father judged me.”
“For stealing?”
“For surviving.”
He gestured toward the safe.
“Carlo discovered accounts he wasn't supposed to discover.”
“What accounts?”
“Insurance.”
“For what?”
“Power.”
“You killed him.”
Matteo made a sound.
Vittorio looked at me.
“I didn't intend to.”
The answer hurt more than a simple yes.
“What did you do?”
“He threatened to expose everything.”
“So you killed him.”
“He had a weak heart.”
“You poisoned him.”
“I frightened him.”
I stared.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to open the safe.”
“I don't know the combination.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“Your father made sure you did.”
He pointed at me.
“Your birthday.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Try it.”
“We have.”
“Then you were wrong.”
His face tightened.
“He left you something.”
I remembered the brass key.
I kept my hand away from my pocket.
Vittorio noticed anyway.
His eyes dropped.
“Search her again.”
One of the men approached.
Then the lights went out.
Gunfire exploded.
Matteo's chair hit the floor.
I dropped.
Someone grabbed my arm.
I screamed.
“It's me.”
Luca.
He pulled me behind a stone pillar.
“How—”
“Later.”
More gunfire.
Vittorio shouted.
Luca's men flooded the cellar through two entrances.
Within seconds, one guard was down.
Another surrendered.
Vittorio disappeared.
“Matteo!”
I crawled toward my brother.
Luca covered us.
I ripped the tape from Matteo's mouth.
“Elena.”
“Oh God.”
He was crying.
I cut his ropes with a knife Luca handed me.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“Not badly.”
“Why were you with Isabella?”
His face changed.
“I was helping her.”
“From Vittorio?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Dad told me not to.”
I froze.
“What?”
Matteo looked toward the hidden safe.
“Dad left me a letter.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“You were fourteen.”
“I know.”
“What letter?”
“He said if Vittorio ever tried to arrange a marriage involving you, I had to help the bride escape.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Luca approached.
“Vittorio got away.”
I looked at Matteo.
“Why would Dad know about a marriage ten years later?”
Matteo shook his head.
“He didn't say marriage to Luca.”
“What did he say?”
Matteo swallowed.
“He said Vittorio would eventually try to put you inside the Bellandi family.”
Luca looked toward the safe.
“Why?”
Matteo pointed.
“Because of what's inside that.”
I pulled out the key.
“There isn't a keyhole.”
“There is.”
Matteo moved to the safe.
Pressed a metal emblem.
A hidden slot appeared.
I inserted the key.
Click.
The safe opened.
Inside were three things.
A ledger.
A photograph.
And an envelope addressed to me.
I picked up the photograph first.
My father stood beside a much younger Luca.
And another man.
Luca stared.
“My father.”
On the back, my father had written:
IF VITTORIO OFFERS ELENA TO THE BELLANDIS, TRUST LUCA.
My hands trembled.
“How could he know you?”
“I don't know.”
I opened the envelope.
One page.
My father's handwriting.
Elena,
If you're reading this, Vittorio finally made his move.
He will tell you the Bellandis are your danger.
They are not.
The danger has always been inside our family.
Do not give Vittorio the ledger.
Do not trust the police officer named—
The final line had been ripped away.
A sound came from behind the wine racks.
We turned.
A man stepped forward.
Gold ring.
Black stone.
Luca raised his weapon.
The man lifted both hands.
And I recognized him.
Aldo Rinaldi.
He looked at the letter in my hand.
May you like
Then he said:
“Your father was trying to warn you about me.”
