Chapter 6 - The Promise My Father Made Me
The room became smaller.
At least, that was how it felt.
Because suddenly there were only two people standing in front of me.
Me.
And Marco.
The man who had protected me for fifteen years.
The man who had stood beside my father.
The man who had trained me, advised me, and saved my life more than once.
The man who had just admitted he was hiding something.
Something my father never wanted me to know.
I looked at the photograph again.
My father.
The warehouse.
Marco standing beside him.
The date was twelve years ago.
The night my father died.
"You were there."
Marco didn't deny it.
His silence was the answer.
My hands tightened around the phone.
"Explain."
He looked down.
"Alessandro..."
"No."
My voice was quiet.
But everyone in the room knew what that meant.
"Not another secret."
Marco took a slow breath.
"Your father asked me to do something."
"What?"
"Protect you."
I stared at him.
"I was already his son."
Marco nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why did he need you to protect me?"
Because my father was already gone.
Because he knew something was coming.
Because he knew there was a reason someone wanted me alive.
I waited.
Marco looked at my mother.
She closed her eyes.
Like she already knew what he was going to say.
"Because your father believed the person who wanted him dead would come after you next."
The words hung in the room.
I had spent twelve years believing my father's death was the end of a war.
But maybe it was the beginning.
"Who?"
Marco looked at me.
"I don't know."
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded impossible.
Marco Rizzi knew everything.
He knew every enemy.
Every alliance.
Every person who had ever threatened the Moretti family.
"You expect me to believe you don't know?"
"I know who your father suspected."
"Who?"
Marco remained silent.
That was the second time.
The second time he chose silence over the truth.
And this time I was done accepting it.
"Say it."
His jaw tightened.
"Luciano Moretti."
My uncle.
My father's younger brother.
The man everyone thought disappeared after Antonio Moretti's death.
The man whose name my mother had avoided.
I stared at Marco.
"Where is he?"
"We don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not."
Marco stepped closer.
"Your father spent months searching for him."
"Why?"
"Because Luciano knew about the betrayal."
"What betrayal?"
Marco looked toward the old photograph of my father.
"The betrayal that killed him."
The room became silent.
I felt anger rising.
Not the kind that made people lose control.
The kind that made people dangerous.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Marco didn't answer.
"Why?"
Finally, he spoke.
"Because your father made me promise."
I looked at him.
"A promise?"
He nodded.
"He told me that if I ever told you before you were ready, I would put a target on your back."
I stepped closer.
"You don't get to decide when I deserve the truth."
"No."
Marco's voice became heavier.
"But your father did."
That sentence hurt.
Because I hated that part of me understood.
My father had always been like that.
He carried everything alone.
He believed protecting people meant keeping them away from the danger.
Even when that protection became another kind of pain.
"What exactly did he tell you?"
Marco looked at the floor.
Then he walked toward the desk.
He opened the drawer.
From inside, he removed a small envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Sealed.
My heart changed.
Because I recognized the handwriting.
My father's.
"This was supposed to be given to you when the time came."
I took the envelope.
My fingers touched my father's handwriting.
A part of me wanted to open it immediately.
Another part of me was afraid.
Because every secret I had discovered today had destroyed something I believed.
The wedding.
My relationship with Isabella.
My trust in my own family.
I wasn't sure how much more truth I could handle.
But I opened it.
Inside was one page.
Only a few sentences.
Alessandro,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you away from this world.
I stopped.
My eyes moved across the words.
Your mother will tell you that I wanted to protect you.
She is right.
But she will not tell you the entire truth.
Because I asked her not to.
My breathing slowed.
My father continued.
The person who betrayed me was not someone outside our family.
It was someone who knew my weaknesses.
Someone who knew yours.
Someone who had been waiting for the right moment to take everything from us.
I looked up.
"That's all?"
Marco nodded.
"The rest was missing."
"Missing?"
"Your father wrote more."
My eyes narrowed.
"Where is it?"
Marco didn't answer.
And then I heard something.
A sound from outside the office.
A floorboard.
Someone moving.
Everyone froze.
Marco immediately reached for his weapon.
I turned toward the door.
"Who else knows we're here?"
Nobody answered.
The handle moved.
Slowly.
My security team was supposed to be outside.
Nobody should have been able to reach this room.
The door opened.
But nobody entered.
Only a small package slid across the floor.
Then the door closed.
Marco moved first.
He picked it up carefully.
"No."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He stared at the package.
"Someone knew we would find this."
He opened it.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed my father.
But this time, he wasn't with Marco.
He was with Isabella.
My entire body went still.
Impossible.
The date on the photo was twelve years ago.
Before I met her.
Before she entered my life.
Before she became my fiancée.
I took the photograph.
On the back, someone had written a message.
Three words.
SHE KNEW EVERYTHING.
I looked at Marco.
"What does this mean?"
He didn't answer.
Because he was looking at the flash drive.
The label on it made his face lose all color.
It had one name.
A name I had never expected.
ISABELLA.
Ten minutes later, the flash drive was connected.
The screen turned black.
Then one video file appeared.
Created twelve years ago.
The same night my father died.
I pressed play.
The first image appeared.
A young Isabella sat inside the warehouse.
Waiting.
And then someone walked into the room.
Someone whose voice I recognized immediately.
Because I had heard it my entire life.
May you like
My father's voice.
"Tell me why you did it, Isabella."
