Chapter 6 - The Voice From The Past
The phone kept ringing.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Because the name on the screen was impossible.
Sofia Moretti.
My wife.
The woman I had buried five years ago.
The woman whose funeral I attended.
The woman whose photographs still sat beside my bed because I couldn't force myself to remove them.
Her name was glowing on an old phone sitting inside a hidden room beneath my house.
A room my father built.
A room my family kept secret.
A room that apparently held the truth everyone had been protecting me from.
I stared at the phone.
Then at Matteo.
"Explain."
My voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
Matteo looked at the phone like it was something dangerous.
"Alejandro..."
"Explain."
He swallowed.
"I don't know."
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I had reached a point where nothing surprised me anymore.
"My dead wife is calling a phone hidden in my house."
I looked around.
"My dead wife."
Nobody answered.
The phone continued ringing.
The sound filled the small room.
A sound from the past refusing to stay buried.
Finally, I reached forward.
Matteo grabbed my arm.
"Don't."
I looked at his hand.
Then at him.
"Let go."
"Alejandro."
"Let go."
Something in my voice made him release me.
I picked up the phone.
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Only static.
Then...
A breath.
A woman's breath.
My entire body froze.
Because I knew that sound.
I knew it better than my own.
"Sofia?"
Silence.
Then a voice.
Weak.
Broken.
But familiar.
"Alejandro..."
I couldn't move.
The world disappeared.
There was no hidden room.
No Matteo.
No Elena.
No secrets.
Only her voice.
Alive.
"Sofia?"
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Where are you?"
A pause.
Then she whispered:
"Don't trust anyone in that room."
My eyes moved.
Everyone was watching me.
Matteo.
Elena.
The boys.
My heart started beating faster.
"What happened to you?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Like she was choosing every word carefully.
"I didn't die the way they told you."
The phone almost slipped from my hand.
"What?"
"I tried to come back."
My breathing stopped.
"Come back?"
"Alejandro, listen to me."
Her voice became urgent.
"You have to get the boys out of there."
I looked at the four children standing near Elena.
"Why?"
"Because they know."
"Who?"
The line crackled.
"Sofia?"
The connection became weaker.
Then her voice returned.
Barely audible.
"The person who caused my disappearance is closer than you think."
The call ended.
The room went silent.
I stared at the dead screen.
Nobody spoke.
Because everyone understood what had just happened.
Sofia was alive.
Or at least...
she had been alive when that recording was made.
I turned slowly.
"Someone explain."
Elena was crying.
Matteo looked like he had aged another twenty years.
"How long?"
I asked.
"How long did you know she was alive?"
Neither answered.
That was enough.
My anger returned.
Not explosive.
Not loud.
Something colder.
Something much worse.
"How long?"
Elena stepped forward.
"Alejandro..."
"How long?"
Her voice broke.
"Since the night she disappeared."
The room went completely silent.
I stared at her.
"Disappeared?"
The word felt strange.
Because everyone had told me Sofia died.
The funeral.
The coffin.
The flowers.
The tears.
Five years of grief.
All built on a lie.
"You let me bury an empty coffin?"
Elena covered her mouth.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Don't say that."
My eyes moved between her and Matteo.
"You don't get to say sorry after five years."
The boys became frightened by my voice.
I noticed.
Immediately, I lowered it.
I turned away.
Because no matter what happened next, they were innocent.
They had already lost enough.
Matteo stepped closer.
"There is something you need to know."
I looked at him.
"I think I've heard that sentence enough times for one night."
He ignored it.
"Luciano wasn't the only person involved."
My expression changed.
"Who else?"
Matteo looked toward the hidden room.
"Your father."
I stared.
"My father died."
"Yes."
"Then how could he be involved?"
Matteo looked at the old photograph.
"Because he knew Sofia was in danger."
I stepped closer.
"You're saying my father knew?"
"He helped hide the truth."
My hands tightened.
My father.
The man I spent my entire life trying to understand.
The man who taught me strength but never showed weakness.
The man who always said family came first.
He had known.
Everyone had known.
Except me.
"Why?"
Matteo looked at me.
"Because your father discovered what Luciano was planning."
"What was he planning?"
Matteo didn't answer immediately.
That scared me.
Because Matteo had always been the person who had answers.
Finally, he said:
"To take control of everything your family built."
I looked around.
The mansion.
The company.
The name.
Everything.
"By using my children?"
"By using Sofia."
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
Matteo walked deeper into the hidden room.
There were more documents inside.
Old files.
Photographs.
Records.
He opened one folder.
Inside were medical reports.
Birth records.
Security files.
I picked one up.
My eyes moved across the page.
Then stopped.
The document was from five years ago.
The date Sofia supposedly died.
But the signature at the bottom...
was not from a doctor.
It was from Luciano Bellandi.
"What is this?"
Matteo looked away.
"The proof."
"Of what?"
"That Sofia's death was arranged."
The words landed heavily.
I looked at Elena.
She nodded slowly.
"She was supposed to disappear forever."
"But she didn't."
"No."
Elena looked at the boys.
"Because she found someone willing to help her."
"Who?"
Nobody answered.
Then one of the boys spoke.
The smallest one.
Mateo.
He was holding something in his hand.
A small folded piece of paper.
"Mommy said this was only for Alejandro."
Everyone turned.
Elena's face changed.
"Mateo..."
The boy walked toward me.
He wasn't afraid.
He handed me the paper.
I opened it.
Only one sentence was written.
In Sofia's handwriting.
If you found this, then they failed to keep you away from the truth.
My hands trembled.
Because underneath the sentence was another line.
A name.
A name I had never expected.
I looked at Matteo.
Then at Elena.
"Who is this?"
Neither answered.
Because they both knew.
The paper contained the name of the person who had helped Sofia survive.
The person who had hidden her for five years.
The person who knew where she was now.
I looked down.
And read the final words.
The only person I trusted was the man you thought was dead.
I slowly lifted my eyes toward Matteo.
But he was no longer looking at me.
He was looking behind me.
At the hidden room doorway.
His face turned pale.
Because someone was standing there.
Someone who had been listening.
Someone who had heard everything.
May you like
And then a woman's voice whispered from the darkness.
"Alejandro..."
