Chapter 5 - The Man Behind My Father’s Death
The video froze.
One frame.
One impossible moment.
My father’s face.
Alive.
Standing inside the office where I had watched his coffin leave my family estate.
I stared at the screen.
My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
Luciano Moretti was dead.
I had watched the doctors turn off the machines.
I had signed the papers.
I had stood beside his grave.
I had listened to people say goodbye.
But now he was standing in front of me.
Talking.
Breathing.
Alive.
"Alessandro?"
Isabella's voice pulled me back.
I looked at her.
She was staring at the phone.
Her face had lost all color.
"You knew."
It wasn't a question.
Her silence was enough.
"You knew my father was alive."
"Not exactly."
I laughed quietly.
A cold laugh.
"Not exactly?"
I turned toward her.
"Isabella, I watched him die."
She looked down.
"I know."
"Then explain what I just saw."
She didn't answer.
Because she couldn't.
For the first time since I found her in that park, Isabella Delgado had no explanation.
And that scared me.
The vehicle moved through the city streets.
Outside the window, New York continued as if nothing had changed.
People walked.
Cars moved.
Lights turned green.
The world kept going.
But mine had stopped.
My father was alive.
Someone had lied to me.
And I knew exactly what kind of person could hide a truth like this.
Someone close.
Someone powerful.
Someone who understood my family better than anyone.
I looked at the frozen image again.
"Play it."
Isabella looked at me.
"Alessandro."
"Play it."
My voice left no room for argument.
She pressed the screen.
The video continued.
My father's office appeared again.
The same desk.
The same walls.
The same place where I had spent countless nights learning from him.
Then my father turned toward the camera.
His expression was different from the man I remembered.
Older.
Tired.
Not weak.
Never weak.
But tired.
"Alessandro."
His voice came through the speakers.
My hands tightened.
"If you're watching this, then something happened."
A pause.
"And if you're watching this, it means I failed to protect you."
I stopped breathing.
My father looked directly into the camera.
Like he was looking at me.
"I know you believe I am dead."
A silence.
"I needed you to believe that."
My jaw tightened.
Needed me to believe?
The anger came slowly.
Not explosive.
Not uncontrolled.
The kind of anger that was dangerous.
"Why?"
My father continued.
"Because the person who wanted me gone was not outside this family."
I looked at Isabella.
She closed her eyes.
She already knew.
My father continued.
"They are inside."
The video paused.
The signal broke.
Then returned.
My father appeared again.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
Someone stood behind him.
A shadow.
A person whose face was hidden.
"Alessandro..."
My father's voice became quieter.
"The hardest betrayal does not come from enemies."
The shadow moved slightly.
"And the person standing beside me is the reason I had to disappear."
The video ended.
No warning.
No explanation.
Just darkness.
Nobody spoke.
Even Emma stopped drawing.
She looked at me through the mirror.
"Are you okay?"
The question almost broke me.
Because I wasn't.
I had spent my entire life believing I understood my family.
I was wrong.
"I need to go somewhere."
Isabella immediately looked at me.
"Where?"
"My father's office."
"No."
The answer was instant.
I looked back.
"No?"
"It's a trap."
"Maybe."
"Alessandro."
"I need answers."
"You need to stay alive."
I looked at her.
"Those are not the same thing anymore."
She didn't respond.
Because she knew I was right.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the Moretti estate.
The place where I grew up.
The place where every secret in my family had been buried beneath expensive walls and old traditions.
Security opened the gate immediately.
But something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
I noticed it before anyone else.
The guards were nervous.
Not alert.
Nervous.
That meant something had already happened.
I stepped out of the vehicle.
"Where is Marco?"
The nearest guard froze.
That was enough.
I walked toward him.
"Answer me."
The man swallowed.
"Mr. Moretti..."
"Where is Marco Vieri?"
He looked away.
A mistake.
A big one.
Because I had spent twenty years learning how people lied.
"He's inside."
I turned.
"Why didn't he come out?"
Nobody answered.
I walked through the entrance.
Isabella followed with Emma.
I stopped immediately.
Because the house felt different.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like a place after a storm.
The staff avoided eye contact.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved unless necessary.
I walked into my father's office.
The door was open.
That was strange.
It was never open.
My father believed open doors invited problems.
Inside, everything looked untouched.
His desk.
His chair.
His books.
The same room where I had watched him make decisions that changed lives.
I stepped closer.
Something was different.
A painting.
A large portrait on the wall.
It was slightly tilted.
I reached toward it.
Behind it was a small compartment.
Empty.
My eyes narrowed.
Someone had been here.
Someone had taken something.
"What was hidden there?"
I turned.
Isabella stood at the doorway.
She looked at the compartment.
Then at me.
"Your father's second key."
"What key?"
She hesitated.
"The key that proves why he disappeared."
The room became silent.
"What second key?"
Isabella walked inside slowly.
"He had two."
"Two keys to what?"
She looked toward the old desk.
"The first one opened his safety deposit box."
My eyes narrowed.
"And the second?"
Her voice became almost a whisper.
"The second one opened the place where he kept the truth."
Before I could respond, a sound came from the hallway.
A slow step.
Then another.
Someone was walking toward the office.
Isabella immediately grabbed Emma.
I moved in front of them.
The door handle turned.
Slowly.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice came from the other side.
A voice I knew better than anyone.
A voice I had trusted with my life.
"Alessandro."
I froze.
May you like
Because Marco Vieri was standing outside the door.
And he was holding my father's missing key.
