Chapter 6 - The Secret Behind the Hidden Door
The hidden door was open.
That was impossible.
I had lived in that mansion for years.
I knew every hallway.
Every room.
Every entrance.
Every place where someone could hide.
Or at least I thought I did.
But behind those old shelves was a passage that had existed without my knowledge.
A passage leading somewhere beneath my own home.
My hand tightened around Anthony's old toy car.
The small piece of plastic felt heavier than any weapon I had ever held.
Because it wasn't just a toy.
It was proof.
Proof that my son had been here.
Proof that someone had watched him grow while I searched for him.
Proof that someone had stolen four years of my life.
I stepped toward the opening.
"Stay here."
My guards immediately moved.
"No."
I looked back.
Everyone froze.
"I said stay here."
They knew that tone.
The tone that meant I was no longer the businessman.
No longer the man negotiating deals.
I was a father.
And nothing was more dangerous than a father who had been forced to wait four years for answers.
The passage was narrow.
The walls were covered with old stone.
No cameras.
No lights.
Only a faint glow coming from somewhere deeper inside.
Someone had built this place carefully.
Secretly.
Patiently.
This wasn't something created overnight.
This was planned.
I walked slowly.
Every step brought back another memory.
Anthony running through the hallway.
Anthony laughing.
Anthony asking me why the moon followed the car.
Small moments I thought I would have forever.
Then they were gone.
Until now.
At the end of the passage was another room.
A bedroom.
A child's bedroom.
My breath caught.
The walls were painted a soft blue.
There were books on the shelves.
A small bed.
A desk.
Drawings.
Dozens of drawings.
I walked closer.
My fingers touched one of them.
A picture of three people holding hands.
A father.
A mother.
A child.
Underneath it were words written in a child's handwriting.
"My family."
My chest tightened.
Because I knew that handwriting.
Anthony.
But there was something else.
Another drawing.
A little girl beside him.
Sofia.
They had grown up together.
The truth hit me harder than any betrayal.
While I was grieving my missing son...
He had been alive.
He had been living.
He had known he had a sister.
And I had missed everything.
The first day of school.
The first words.
The first steps.
Every moment a father was supposed to witness.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Lena stood at the entrance.
She looked at the room.
Then at me.
"I didn't want you to find out like this."
My voice was cold.
"How did you think I should find out?"
She didn't answer.
I looked around.
"How long?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Four years."
The answer hurt even though I expected it.
"You knew he was here?"
She shook her head.
"Not here."
She stepped inside.
"Not always."
I looked at her.
"Explain."
Lena took a deep breath.
"After Marco helped us escape, Anthony was moved from place to place."
"Why?"
"Because Matteo was looking for him."
I looked at the room again.
"Then why does this exist?"
"Because this was a safe place."
"For who?"
Her eyes lowered.
"For Anthony."
A silence followed.
Then I noticed something on the desk.
A small notebook.
I picked it up.
The cover was worn.
Inside were pages filled with writing.
Not from an adult.
From a child.
I opened it.
The first page had a date.
Three years ago.
The handwriting was uneven.
But clear.
Today I learned Dad's picture is still on the wall.
I stopped breathing.
I turned the page.
I miss him.
I don't know why he doesn't come.
Mom says he doesn't know.
I turned another page.
I hope he isn't angry.
My vision blurred.
Anthony had been thinking about me.
He hadn't forgotten.
He hadn't hated me.
He believed I didn't come because I didn't know.
Because someone had made him believe that.
I closed the notebook.
Lena watched me.
"He loved you."
I didn't look up.
"Then why didn't he call me?"
Her silence answered before she did.
"Because Matteo made him afraid."
My head lifted.
"What did he tell him?"
Lena's voice became quiet.
"He told Anthony that you chose your empire over him."
The words felt like a knife.
"He told him that if he came back, you would send him away."
I shook my head.
"No."
"I know."
"But Anthony believed it."
Lena nodded.
"Children believe the people they trust."
I looked at the drawings.
At the room.
At the life I missed.
Then I saw something on the wall.
A photograph.
Not of Anthony.
Of me.
Taken years ago.
I was standing outside the mansion.
Looking exhausted.
Broken.
Searching.
And underneath the photograph was a note.
"He looked for me every day."
My heart broke.
Anthony had known.
Somehow, he had known.
A sound suddenly came from the hallway.
Everyone turned.
A guard rushed in.
"Mr. Moretti."
"What?"
His face was serious.
"We found Marco."
My body went still.
"Where?"
"He contacted us."
"Put him on."
The guard hesitated.
That hesitation worried me.
"Now."
A video call appeared on the tablet.
The screen turned on.
Marco Vieri appeared.
Older.
Tired.
Wounded.
But alive.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Marco looked directly at me.
"Alessandro."
My voice was filled with anger.
"You have ten seconds."
He nodded.
"I deserve that."
"Where is my son?"
Marco looked away.
And for the first time, I saw fear on his face.
Not fear of me.
Fear of what he was about to say.
"Anthony is safe."
My jaw tightened.
"Where?"
"Alessandro..."
"Where is my son?"
Marco closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
"He is not the one you need to find first."
The room became silent.
"What does that mean?"
Marco looked at Lena.
Then at Lucia.
Then back at me.
"It means Matteo was never trying to hide Anthony from you."
My blood ran cold.
"Then what was he hiding?"
Marco stared into the camera.
"The reason Anthony disappeared."
A pause.
"The person who ordered it."
I stepped closer.
"Who?"
Marco's face changed.
Like saying the name could destroy everything.
Then he whispered:
"The person standing inside your house right now..."
May you like
The call suddenly cut.
At that exact moment, someone behind me whispered my name.
