Chapter 3 - The Enemy Sitting at the Family Table
The first thing I learned about powerful families was that they rarely needed to raise their voices.
They had other ways of showing fear.
A glance.
A pause.
A hand tightening around a glass.
A person suddenly becoming very interested in the floor.
That night inside the Duca library, nobody looked at the ancient codex anymore.
They looked at each other.
Because my daughter had said something no adult in that room wanted to hear.
Someone inside the family was pretending to protect them.
And now everyone wondered the same thing.
Who?
The storm outside grew stronger.
Rain hit the tall windows like impatient fingers.
The fireplace continued burning, but the warmth it created could not reach the tension spreading across the room.
Lorenzo remained seated beside Emma.
I still found it strange.
A man who had spent his entire life surrounded by powerful people was now sitting next to a little girl who carried a stuffed bear with a repaired ear.
But there was something different about him.
Before Emma spoke, Lorenzo had looked like a man defending an empire.
After Emma spoke...
He looked like a son trying to understand his father.
“What else did your grandfather teach you?” Lorenzo asked.
His voice was softer now.
Not gentle.
Not yet.
But softer.
Emma looked at the page.
“Lots of things.”
“Like what?”
She thought carefully.
“Things that people forget.”
Marco crossed his arms.
“That is very mysterious for someone who still needs help tying her shoes.”
I looked at him.
Emma looked at him.
Then she answered.
“Grandpa said people who make fun of small things usually miss the big things.”
For one second, nobody reacted.
Then Alberto coughed into his hand to hide a smile.
Isabella looked away.
Even Lorenzo’s expression changed.
Not much.
But enough.
Marco noticed.
And he did not like it.
He stood from his chair.
“This is ridiculous.”
His voice became sharper.
“We are seriously sitting here letting a child decide whether our father left behind some imaginary betrayal?”
Nobody answered.
Marco looked around the table.
“At least one of you understands how insane this is.”
Alberto placed his hands together.
“Your father was not a careless man.”
“No.”
Marco laughed.
“He was a man who enjoyed controlling people.”
The room became silent.
Lorenzo finally looked at his brother.
“Be careful.”
Two words.
That was all.
But Marco stopped.
Because everyone in that room knew Lorenzo was not making a threat.
He was giving a warning.
Marco looked away first.
I noticed that.
And I also noticed something else.
Fear.
Not a lot.
Just enough.
Lorenzo turned back to the codex.
“Emma.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Your grandfather. Did he know my father?”
The question surprised me.
Because I had never heard Thomas Carter mention the Duca family.
Not once.
Emma shook her head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
She looked confused.
“Because Grandpa said rich people always think everyone knows them.”
Nobody expected that answer.
But I did.
Because it sounded exactly like something my father would say.
He had never hated wealthy people.
He just believed money often made people forget that everyone else had a story.
Lorenzo stared at her.
Then he looked at me.
“Your father never worked for my family?”
“No.”
“Never visited this estate?”
“No.”
“Never met my father?”
I hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Everyone noticed.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“You are remembering something.”
I swallowed.
It had been years.
A small memory.
Almost nothing.
“My father came to Italy once.”
The room changed.
“When?” Alberto asked immediately.
“Before I was born.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he go?”
I looked at Emma.
Then back at them.
“He never talked about it.”
That answer created more questions than it solved.
Lorenzo looked toward Sebastian.
The old butler had remained silent.
Too silent.
“You know something.”
Sebastian looked at him.
“I know many things.”
“That was not my question.”
The old man sighed.
Then he walked toward the bookshelf behind the fireplace.
Every person followed him with their eyes.
He stopped in front of a row of old leather books.
Then he reached behind them.
A hidden compartment opened.
My heart immediately started beating faster.
Because hidden compartments were not something ordinary people kept inside libraries.
Sebastian removed a small wooden box.
He placed it on the table.
Nobody spoke.
Lorenzo stared at it.
“I have never seen that.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Sebastian looked at him.
“Because your father told me not to show it until the codex was understood.”
Marco stepped closer.
“Until the codex was understood?”
He looked around.
“And now we are trusting a child to decide when that happens?”
Sebastian ignored him.
The old man opened the box.
Inside was a collection of old photographs.
Letters.
And one small piece of paper.
Lorenzo reached for it.
Sebastian stopped him.
“Not yet.”
The room froze.
Nobody stopped Lorenzo Duca.
Nobody.
But Sebastian did.
And Lorenzo allowed it.
“Why?”
Sebastian looked at the codex.
“Because your father believed the first person to find the truth would not be someone searching for power.”
His eyes moved toward Emma.
“He believed it would be someone who had nothing to gain.”
Nobody spoke.
I felt something tighten inside my chest.
Because I suddenly understood.
My daughter was not important because she was smart.
She was important because nobody could accuse a three-year-old child of wanting control.
Not over money.
Not over the Duca empire.
Not over the family.
She had no reason to lie.
Lorenzo looked at the box.
“What is inside?”
Sebastian hesitated.
Then answered.
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
The old butler looked toward the family members.
“Proof that your father was afraid.”
That sentence changed everything.
Lorenzo’s face became colder.
“My father was afraid of nothing.”
Sebastian’s expression softened.
“That is what everyone believed.”
He touched the box.
“But I served him for sixty years.”
A pause.
“I knew when he was pretending.”
Nobody moved.
Sebastian looked at Lorenzo.
“Your father did not create the codex to test your intelligence.”
“Then why?”
“Because he knew someone would betray him.”
The words landed heavily.
Lorenzo looked toward his family.
His brother.
His sister.
His attorney.
The people who had been closest to his father.
The people who knew his father’s secrets.
Emma looked at the symbols again.
Then she pointed.
“Wait.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” Lorenzo asked.
She touched the edge of the page.
“The bird is not alone.”
Alberto leaned closer.
“What do you mean?”
Emma pointed to another symbol hidden near the corner.
A small star.
“Grandpa said birds watch.”
She traced the symbol beside it.
“And stars remember.”
Sebastian suddenly stood.
His face changed.
“No.”
The word escaped him.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“What?”
The old man stared at the page.
Then at Emma.
“Your grandfather…”
His voice became quiet.
“He knew the second symbol too?”
Emma nodded.
“Yes.”
“How?”
She answered simply.
“He said someone would need to find the room under the house.”
Nobody breathed.
Lorenzo slowly stood.
“The room under the house?”
Sebastian looked toward the dark windows.
For the first time that night, the old servant looked truly afraid.
“There is no room under this house.”
Emma looked at him.
A child correcting a man who had lived there for sixty years.
“Yes, there is.”
Sebastian froze.
“How do you know?”
Emma pointed to the codex.
“Because the bird is looking down.”
Lorenzo stared at the page.
Then at the floor beneath them.
The library suddenly felt different.
The old walls.
The ancient books.
The family history.
Everything around them felt like it was hiding something.
Marco laughed nervously.
“This is impossible.”
But nobody believed him.
Not anymore.
Because impossible things had already happened.
A three-year-old girl had read the first message.
She had identified a betrayal.
And now she had discovered something the Duca family had forgotten existed.
A hidden room beneath their home.
Lorenzo slowly closed the codex.
Then he looked at Sebastian.
“Tomorrow morning, we search.”
The old butler did not answer.
He only stared at the book.
Because he knew something Lorenzo did not.
The room beneath the Duca estate was not hidden because nobody knew where it was.
It was hidden because someone had made sure nobody would ever find it.
May you like
And after sixty years...
A little girl had just opened the door.
Related Stories
