Chapter 6 - The Truth Buried Beneath Moretti
The warehouse door was unlocked.
That was the first warning.
Because my father had never left anything unprotected.
Not his money.
Not his secrets.
Not his enemies.
The old Moretti warehouse stood exactly where it had stood eleven years ago.
A place everyone believed was abandoned.
A place that officially didn't exist anymore.
But someone had been here.
Recently.
The smell of dust filled the air as I stepped inside.
My flashlight moved across the walls.
Old shelves.
Broken equipment.
Empty crates.
Everything looked untouched.
Too untouched.
That was the problem.
Real abandonment was messy.
This wasn't.
This was staged.
Someone wanted us to believe nobody had been here.
"Boss," Daniel whispered.
I looked toward him.
He pointed at the floor.
Footprints.
Fresh ones.
Multiple people.
I crouched down.
The dirt was disturbed.
Someone had walked through here within hours.
I stood.
"Marco was here."
Victor remained near the entrance.
He looked uncomfortable.
More than uncomfortable.
He looked guilty.
"You knew this place was still active."
Victor didn't answer.
I turned.
"Did you?"
A long silence.
Then he said:
"Yes."
My expression hardened.
"You knew."
"I knew someone was using it."
"And you said nothing?"
"I was trying to protect you."
I almost laughed.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
I walked deeper into the warehouse.
"Everyone protects me by lying to me."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because they were true.
My entire life had been built on information.
Knowing who wanted me dead.
Knowing who wanted my money.
Knowing who wanted my position.
But the people closest to me had hidden the one thing I needed most.
The truth.
At the back of the warehouse, we found the old office.
My father's office.
The door was locked.
Daniel tried the handle.
Nothing.
I looked at Victor.
"You have the key?"
He shook his head.
"No."
I stared at the door.
Then I noticed something.
A small metal plate beside the handle.
Three numbers.
I took out the key Elena gave me.
It fit perfectly.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was not an abandoned office.
It was a time capsule.
Everything was exactly as my father left it.
His desk.
His chair.
His books.
His old phone.
For a moment, I wasn't Alessandro Moretti, the man everyone feared.
I was just a son standing in his father's office.
A son who never got answers.
I walked toward the desk.
There was a photograph.
My father.
Me.
Luca.
My brother.
We were younger.
Happy.
Before everything changed.
I picked it up.
Behind the photograph was a note.
My father's handwriting.
My heart stopped.
"Alessandro."
Only my father called me that way.
Not as a title.
Not as an heir.
As his son.
I unfolded the paper.
"If you are reading this, then they failed to stop you."
I kept reading.
"I know you will want revenge. I know you will want names. But before you decide who is your enemy, understand one thing."
I looked at the next line.
"Some betrayals are committed by people who believe they are saving you."
I lowered the letter.
Victor looked away.
I noticed.
"What do you know?"
Victor didn't answer.
I turned toward him.
"What do you know?"
He finally looked at me.
"Your father asked me to do something."
"What?"
"To disappear."
The answer surprised me.
"Why?"
"Because he knew someone close to you was watching."
I looked at the office.
"Marco."
Victor nodded slowly.
"Marco wasn't the only one."
The room became colder.
"What does that mean?"
Victor walked toward the desk.
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a folder.
My name was written on it.
But beneath it was another name.
Luca.
My brother.
I stared.
"Luca?"
Victor's expression changed.
"Your brother knew."
My hands tightened.
"Knew what?"
Victor didn't answer immediately.
And that silence told me everything.
"Luca knew about Leo?"
"Yes."
The room felt like it moved.
My brother.
The person I trusted.
The person who stood beside me after our father died.
The person who helped me rebuild everything.
Another lie.
I opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Photos.
Messages.
And one report dated six months after my father's death.
The first line made my blood freeze.
"Subject: Protection of Alessandro Moretti."
I kept reading.
"Primary threat identified."
Below it was a name.
Not Marco.
Not Thomas.
Not Victor.
Someone else.
Someone I never suspected.
I turned the page.
A photograph fell onto the desk.
It showed a meeting.
Three people.
Thomas Varela.
Marco.
And Luca.
My brother.
I stared at the image.
No.
That wasn't possible.
Victor stepped closer.
"I tried to tell your father."
"When?"
"Before he died."
"And?"
Victor's voice became quiet.
"He already knew."
I looked up.
"What?"
"Your father knew Luca was involved."
The words hit harder than anything else.
Because my father had died knowing.
And he still left me behind without telling me.
"Why?"
Victor looked at the letter.
"Because he believed your brother wasn't the enemy."
I looked at him.
"Then who was?"
Before Victor answered, the old phone on my father's desk rang.
Nobody touched it.
Nobody had connected power.
But it rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Daniel reached for his weapon.
I stared at the phone.
Because I knew that sound.
My father used that phone for one reason.
Private calls.
Calls nobody else could hear.
I picked it up.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a voice.
An old voice.
A familiar voice.
"Alessandro."
I couldn't breathe.
Because I knew who it was.
"Father?"
Victor stepped back.
The voice continued.
"I know you're angry."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"This isn't real."
A pause.
Then:
"Ask Victor what happened the night I died."
I looked at Victor.
His face had gone pale.
"How are you doing this?"
The voice ignored me.
"Ask him who was in the car with me."
The call ended.
Silence.
Nobody moved.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Victor looked at the floor.
"Tell me."
He didn't answer.
"Victor."
His eyes closed.
"I wasn't alone that night."
My heart stopped.
"Who was with you?"
Victor looked toward the office door.
Like he was afraid someone could hear.
Then he whispered:
"The person who ordered your father's death was sitting in the back seat beside him."
I stepped forward.
"Name."
Victor opened his mouth.
But before he could speak, every light in the warehouse turned on.
A screen hidden behind the office wall came alive.
A video started playing.
My father appeared.
Alive.
Sitting in this exact room.
Looking directly into the camera.
May you like
Then he said my name.
And the person sitting beside him turned toward the screen.
