Chapter 6 - The Man Who Entered My Father’s Office
“The office door opened by itself.”
The guard’s voice repeated through the radio.
But the words that followed were worse.
“Someone is standing inside.”
I held the radio tighter.
“Describe him.”
Static.
Then silence.
Too long.
“Guard.”
A few seconds passed.
Then the voice returned.
Quiet.
Uncertain.
“Boss… he looks like you.”
Nobody in the garage moved.
Not even Marco.
Because everyone understood what that meant.
Someone was inside my father’s old office.
Someone who looked like me.
Someone who should not exist.
I turned toward the stairs.
“We’re going up.”
Marco stepped forward.
“Lorenzo.”
I stopped.
“What?”
His expression was serious.
“Be careful.”
I almost laughed.
After everything that happened that morning, that was what he chose to say.
Be careful.
Not run.
Not hide.
Not call for backup.
Just be careful.
I looked at him.
“Are you warning me about the person upstairs?”
Marco didn’t answer.
That was enough.
I walked away.
The guards followed.
Sophia held Emma close behind us.
The fake driver remained restrained in the garage.
Enzo was being carried by two guards toward the medical room.
Every step toward the second floor felt heavier.
Because I knew what waited there.
Not an enemy.
Not a stranger.
A ghost.
The hallway was silent.
The Duca estate had always been loud in a strange way.
Employees moving.
Phones ringing.
Security teams communicating.
Doors opening.
But now there was nothing.
Like the entire house was holding its breath.
We reached the second floor.
The office was at the end of the hallway.
The door was open.
Exactly as the guard said.
I stopped.
I had not entered that room in twelve years.
Not because I couldn’t.
Because I refused.
That room belonged to the last day my family was normal.
The last day before Adriano disappeared.
The last day before my father became a different man.
The guards raised their weapons.
I lifted my hand.
“No.”
They stopped.
“If someone wanted me dead, they had many chances.”
I stepped forward.
Slowly.
The door was already open.
That bothered me.
Because my father’s office had three locks.
A traditional key.
A security code.
And a fingerprint scanner.
Someone had bypassed all three.
I entered.
The smell hit me first.
Old leather.
Dust.
Wood.
The same smell from twelve years ago.
Everything looked untouched.
The desk.
The bookshelves.
The chair where my father used to sit.
But something was different.
A single photograph sat in the center of the desk.
The same photograph I saw on the camera.
My family.
My father.
Adriano.
Me.
And the woman I didn’t know.
Elena.
I walked toward it.
Behind the photograph was a handwritten note.
I picked it up.
Three words.
“Ask your brother.”
My heart tightened.
A sound came from behind me.
The door closed.
Not slammed.
Closed.
Slowly.
I turned.
A man stood near the window.
Older.
Tired.
A scar across his jaw.
Dark hair with gray beginning at the sides.
His eyes were the same as mine.
Because they were mine.
The same eyes I saw every morning.
The same eyes my father had.
The same eyes I remembered from childhood.
Adriano.
My brother.
Alive.
For twelve years, I imagined this moment.
I imagined anger.
A confrontation.
Questions.
A thousand things I would say.
But when I finally saw him standing there…
I said nothing.
Neither did he.
We just looked at each other.
Two brothers separated by a lie.
Finally, he spoke.
“You got taller.”
The sentence was so normal that it almost hurt.
I stared at him.
“That’s what you say?”
A small sadness appeared on his face.
“I didn’t know what else to say.”
I laughed once.
A cold laugh.
“You disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me become the head of this family.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
His eyes lowered.
“I couldn’t.”
I stepped closer.
“Couldn’t?”
My voice rose.
“You couldn’t send one message?”
“No.”
“One phone call?”
“No.”
“After twelve years?”
His face changed.
Pain.
Real pain.
“Because every person who tried to contact me ended up dead.”
The room became silent.
I stopped.
“What?”
Adriano looked toward the door.
Then the windows.
Checking.
Always checking.
Like someone was listening.
“They weren’t trying to hide me from you.”
He looked at me.
“They were hiding you from me.”
I didn’t understand.
“Who?”
He walked toward the desk.
Picked up the family photograph.
“The same people who killed our father.”
My expression changed.
“Our father died naturally.”
Adriano looked at me.
“No.”
One word.
One word that destroyed twelve years of certainty.
“He was murdered.”
I wanted to reject it.
But then I remembered.
The strange security failures.
The fake driver.
The hidden phone.
The recording.
Everything connected.
“Who killed him?”
Adriano placed the photograph down.
“The same person who has been controlling this family since before you took over.”
I waited.
“Name.”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he opened the drawer beneath my father’s desk.
A drawer I had searched dozens of times.
A drawer I thought was empty.
He pressed something underneath the wood.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a small black folder.
Old.
Worn.
My name was written on the front.
Lorenzo.
I looked at Adriano.
“You had this?”
“No.”
“Then why is my name on it?”
His expression became serious.
“Because your father prepared it for the day you learned the truth.”
I opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Bank records.
Security reports.
And one picture that made my hands freeze.
A picture of Marco.
Standing beside my father.
Not years ago.
Not after Adriano disappeared.
Before.
Much earlier.
But Marco was not the only person in the picture.
Standing beside him was Elena.
The woman from the photograph.
And between them…
Was someone else.
Someone I recognized.
Someone who had been in my house every single day.
My breathing stopped.
“Lorenzo…”
Adriano’s voice became low.
“Now you understand why I couldn’t come back.”
I looked at the picture.
At the person standing beside Marco and Elena.
The person whose betrayal would destroy everything I believed.
Then my phone vibrated.
One message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
Only one sentence.
“Ask Adriano why he killed your father.”
May you like
I looked up.
And Adriano was already holding a gun.
