Chapter 8 - The Voice From the Past
The phone remained silent.
But nobody moved.
Dante held it against his ear.
His expression changed with every second.
I watched him carefully.
Because I had never seen fear on his face before.
Not once.
Not when he was threatened.
Not when he was surrounded by enemies.
Not even when he thought I hated him.
But now?
He looked terrified.
"Say that again."
His voice was low.
The person on the other end spoke.
Dante’s grip tightened.
My father moved closer.
"Who is it?"
Dante didn’t answer.
That worried me.
Finally, he lowered the phone.
The room felt colder.
"It’s Victor."
My heart dropped.
I already knew.
But hearing the name made it real.
The man who destroyed my family.
The man who took ten years of my life.
The man who was supposed to be gone.
"He wants to talk."
My father laughed.
A bitter sound.
"Of course he does."
Dante looked at him.
"Why?"
Alessandro stared at the phone.
"Because he knows we found the truth."
I looked between them.
"Why would he show us Sofia?"
Neither man answered.
That was the part that scared me.
Because Victor didn’t do anything without a reason.
People like him didn’t give gifts.
They gave traps.
Dante looked at me.
"You don’t have to come."
I almost laughed.
"After everything I found out tonight, you think I’m staying behind?"
His eyes softened.
"You don’t know what he’s capable of."
I stepped closer.
"Neither did you."
The words hit him.
Because they were true.
For years, everyone had underestimated how far Victor could go.
Including Dante.
Including my father.
Including me.
Alessandro looked at the photograph again.
"Sofia is alive."
I looked at him.
"You knew?"
His expression changed.
"No."
"Then why aren’t you surprised?"
He looked away.
A pause.
Then:
"Because I always believed she was."
I stared at him.
"How?"
My father walked toward the old table.
There was a small wooden box hidden underneath.
He opened it.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
All addressed to one person.
Sofia.
My breathing stopped.
"You wrote to her?"
He nodded.
"Every year."
"But you didn’t know where she was."
"No."
His voice broke slightly.
"But I knew she was alive."
I looked at the letters.
Ten years.
Ten years of messages never received.
Ten years of waiting.
The anger inside me became mixed with something else.
Pain.
Because my father had lost her too.
Maybe not in the same way I had lost him.
But he had lost her.
Dante picked up one of the letters.
Then froze.
"What?"
He turned the envelope around.
There was a symbol drawn on it.
The same symbol from Victor’s documents.
But this time, there was something different.
A line through the center.
Dante’s face changed.
"What is it?"
He looked at Alessandro.
"Where did you get this?"
My father looked confused.
"From Sofia."
Silence.
"What?"
Alessandro nodded.
"Before she disappeared, she sent me one letter."
Dante looked at the envelope.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
My heart stopped.
"Three years?"
My father nodded.
"She told me not to find her."
"Why?"
His eyes became darker.
"Because she said someone was watching her."
Dante immediately looked around.
The room changed.
The danger wasn’t outside anymore.
It was everywhere.
"Who?"
My father looked at the symbol.
"She never said."
I picked up the letter.
"Can we read it?"
Nobody stopped me.
The paper was old.
The handwriting was delicate.
A child’s handwriting.
No.
Not a child.
A woman’s.
My sister’s.
The first line made my hands shake.
Dad,
If you are reading this, it means Elena finally knows the truth.
I looked at Dante.
He looked at me.
The letter continued.
I need you to understand something.
Victor did not destroy our family alone.
Someone helped him.
Someone who was close.
Someone we trusted.
My heart tightened.
Dante took a step back.
"Who?"
I continued reading.
The next sentence was underlined.
The person who betrayed us is still protecting Elena.
The room became silent.
Everyone looked at Dante.
Because there was only one person in that room who had spent ten years protecting me.
I looked at him.
"No."
Dante shook his head immediately.
"Elena."
"No."
I looked back at the letter.
Because I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Every person I trusted had a secret.
Every truth came with another lie.
The letter continued.
Do not trust the person who saved her.
My hands trembled.
Then the next line appeared.
Because he was the same person who helped them take her.
I stopped reading.
Dante looked at me.
"Elena."
I couldn’t speak.
Because the letter was talking about him.
The man who saved me.
The man who protected me.
The man who had hidden everything.
Dante.
My father grabbed the letter.
"Wait."
He read the lines.
His expression changed.
"That’s not possible."
Dante looked at him.
"You know something."
Alessandro looked away.
"I thought I did."
The tension became unbearable.
Then the front door of the house opened.
Slowly.
Everyone turned.
Dante immediately reached for his weapon.
"Who’s there?"
No answer.
Only footsteps.
Slow.
Calm.
Someone wasn’t sneaking in.
Someone wanted us to know they were coming.
A shadow appeared in the hallway.
Then a familiar voice spoke.
"You finally found the room."
My blood went cold.
Because I knew that voice.
Not from ten years ago.
From tonight.
Marco stepped into the doorway.
But he wasn’t alone.
Someone stood behind him.
Someone holding a gun.
Someone I never expected.
Dante’s face changed.
"How?"
Marco smiled.
"Because you never asked the right question."
The person behind him stepped forward.
May you like
And Dante whispered the name that made everyone freeze...
"Clara."
