Chapter 3 - The Man Who Knew My Father
The voice came from the darkness.
Calm.
Controlled.
Familiar.
But impossible.
I stood in the middle of Leo's bedroom, staring toward the hallway where the shadows moved.
My hand stayed near my weapon.
Behind me, Daniel and Marco were ready.
But nobody stepped forward.
Because everyone in that room understood the same thing.
The man standing in that hallway wasn't afraid of us.
And people who weren't afraid of the Moretti name were rare.
"Show yourself," I said.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then a figure stepped into the weak light.
Older.
Tired.
But still standing straight.
He wore a dark coat that looked like it had survived years of bad decisions.
His hair was gray.
His face carried scars.
Not the kind people noticed.
The kind people earned.
Leo moved closer to me.
Not away.
That told me everything.
The boy knew this man.
The man looked at Leo first.
Then at me.
"You look exactly like him."
I didn't blink.
"Who are you?"
The man ignored the question.
His eyes moved to the photograph in my hand.
The one showing my father beside Leo's mother.
"I wondered how long it would take."
My expression hardened.
"How long what would take?"
"For you to find the truth."
The room became silent.
I had spent years hearing people use my father's name.
Most used it as a warning.
Some used it as a weapon.
But this man said it like he knew the parts of my father nobody else had seen.
"You knew my father."
The man's eyes lowered.
"I worked for him."
"Everyone who worked for him is dead."
A small smile appeared on his face.
Not amusement.
Sadness.
"That's what they wanted you to believe."
My jaw tightened.
Daniel stepped forward.
"Boss, we should move him outside."
The man looked at Daniel.
Then back at me.
"If I wanted to hurt you, Alessandro, you wouldn't be standing here."
I hated that he was right.
Because I believed him.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I understood confidence.
This man wasn't acting brave.
He was certain.
"Your name," I said.
A pause.
"Victor Hale."
The name meant nothing.
But the way Leo reacted did.
The boy stepped backward.
Victor noticed.
"I'm sorry, Leo."
The boy didn't answer.
"Did you know my mother?" Leo asked.
Victor looked at him.
His face changed.
For the first time, the coldness disappeared.
"I knew your mother before you were born."
Leo looked confused.
"Then why did you leave us?"
Victor didn't answer immediately.
That silence told me more than words could.
Because there are questions people avoid when the truth hurts.
I stepped between them.
"Start talking."
Victor looked at me.
"Your father didn't die because of an enemy."
I felt something shift inside me.
Everyone knew the official story.
My father was killed because he trusted the wrong people.
A betrayal.
A war.
A mistake.
But Victor continued.
"He died because he discovered something."
"What?"
"The reason Leo exists."
The room went still.
I looked at Leo.
Then back at Victor.
"What does that mean?"
Victor walked toward the table.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he knew every movement mattered.
He placed a small folder on the surface.
"I kept this hidden for eleven years."
I opened it.
Inside were documents.
Medical records.
Photographs.
Names.
Dates.
And one page that made my fingers stop moving.
A birth certificate.
Leo's name was written at the top.
But beneath his mother's name was another section.
Father.
The name was covered with black ink.
Someone had deliberately destroyed it.
"Who did this?" I asked.
Victor looked at me.
"Your father."
My eyes lifted.
"My father erased his own name?"
"No."
Victor shook his head.
"Someone erased it after he died."
I looked back at the paper.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
All my life, I thought I knew my father.
A powerful man.
A ruthless man.
A man who built an empire.
But this evidence showed another version.
A man who protected secrets.
A man who protected a child.
A man who died because of it.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
Victor looked away.
"Because he knew you would do exactly what you're doing now."
"What?"
"Go after everyone responsible."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Because that was exactly what I would do.
"What happened to Leo's mother?"
Victor's expression darkened.
"She ran."
"From who?"
"From the same people who killed your father."
I looked toward Leo.
The boy stood quietly beside the wall.
Listening.
Trying to understand a conversation adults had hidden from him his entire life.
"How long has she been missing?"
"Two days."
"Do you know where she is?"
Victor didn't answer.
That was enough.
"You do."
He looked at me.
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
"I can't."
My eyes narrowed.
"You came into this house."
"You showed yourself."
"You knew I would find Leo."
I stepped closer.
"And now you refuse to tell me where his mother is?"
Victor didn't move.
"Because if I tell you, they know I betrayed them."
"Who are they?"
The old man's face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
For Leo.
Before he could answer, every phone in the room vibrated.
Mine.
Daniel's.
Marco's.
Victor's.
Four screens.
Four identical messages.
Unknown number.
I looked down.
One sentence.
"YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND THE BOY."
Leo saw my expression.
"What does it say?"
I locked the phone.
"Nothing."
Victor looked at me.
"You shouldn't lie to him."
I turned.
"Explain."
Victor stared at the message.
"They know you're here."
Daniel immediately moved toward the window.
"Nobody followed us."
"I know."
Victor's voice became quieter.
"They didn't follow you."
A cold feeling moved through the room.
"Then how?"
Victor looked at Leo.
And for the first time since entering the house, he looked terrified.
"Because someone inside this house told them."
Everyone froze.
My eyes moved around the room.
The broken furniture.
The empty hallway.
The dark corners.
Someone had been here.
Someone had watched.
Someone had waited.
I looked at Leo.
The boy's face had gone pale.
"Leo."
He didn't answer.
"Who else has a key?"
His lips parted.
But no words came out.
Then he slowly turned toward the bedroom closet.
The same closet where we found the hidden box.
My hand moved toward my weapon.
"Leo?"
The boy whispered:
"I thought he left."
The closet door moved.
Slowly.
A small sound.
Wood scraping against wood.
Victor stepped back.
"No."
I looked at him.
"You know who that is."
Victor didn't answer.
The closet opened one inch.
Then two.
And a voice came from inside.
A voice I recognized.
A voice from a past I thought was buried.
"Alessandro..."
The person inside whispered my name.
May you like
And then said:
"You finally found me."
