Chapter 5 - What Lucia Hid
They returned to Romano Estate before dark.
Teresa Bellini came with them.
Rosa refused to leave her mother alone again.
Daniel Hale followed in a separate car.
Aleandro initially objected.
Then Rosa reminded him that half the people he trusted were apparently keeping secrets.
Daniel, at least, admitted he had an agenda.
The estate was in lockdown.
Security guards met them at the gates.
Matteo waited in the entrance hall.
Aleandro walked directly toward him.
“Where is my father?”
“We don’t know.”
“You run security.”
“Someone disabled two cameras.”
“Who?”
“We’re checking.”
Aleandro held up the photograph Daniel had shown them.
“You?”
Matteo stared at it.
Then cursed under his breath.
“That was taken at St. Vincent’s rehabilitation center.”
“So my father could walk?”
“For short distances.”
“You told me he couldn’t stand.”
“He asked me not to tell you.”
Aleandro laughed bitterly.
“Of course he did.”
Rosa watched Matteo carefully.
“Why were you meeting him?”
“Because he wanted to confess.”
“To what?”
“Everything.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Convenient timing.”
Matteo glared.
Daniel smiled.
“Hello, Matteo.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“That’s becoming a theme.”
Aleandro cut between them.
“The vault.”
Matteo nodded.
“This way.”
Lucia Romano’s private vault was hidden behind a portrait in her old bedroom.
Aleandro had not entered the room in years.
Rosa noticed that immediately.
He paused outside the door.
His hand rested on the handle.
Then he pushed it open.
Everything inside had been preserved.
Perfume bottles.
Books.
A silk scarf.
A photograph of fifteen-year-old Aleandro beside a piano.
He looked away from it.
Matteo moved the portrait.
Behind it was a steel safe.
Open.
Empty.
“What was inside?” Rosa asked.
Aleandro shook his head.
“I never knew.”
Samuel arrived minutes later.
When he saw the empty safe, he whispered, “The ledger.”
Aleandro turned.
“What ledger?”
Samuel closed his eyes.
“Lucia kept records.”
Daniel laughed quietly.
“Of course she did.”
“Records of what?” Rosa asked.
“Payments,” Samuel said. “Names. Dates. Every questionable transaction she discovered.”
Aleandro looked disgusted.
“My mother was collecting evidence against my father.”
“She was collecting insurance,” Samuel corrected.
“For whom?”
“You.”
Aleandro went still.
Samuel continued.
“She feared Carlo’s choices would eventually become yours.”
Rosa looked around Lucia’s room.
A woman surrounded by power.
A woman trying to protect her son from inheriting the worst parts of it.
That understanding suddenly made the gramophone message clearer.
Trust the person who makes the machine sing again.
Lucia had not known Rosa.
But she had known Antonio.
And she trusted Antonio enough to believe whoever inherited his patience might help her son listen.
Rosa noticed something on the vanity.
A small music box.
She lifted it.
“Don’t,” Aleandro said sharply.
She stopped.
His expression softened.
“Sorry.”
Rosa examined the box without opening it.
“Your mother liked mechanical things.”
“Yes.”
“Did my father repair this?”
“I don’t know.”
Rosa turned it over.
There.
A tiny engraved B.
Bellini.
“My father marked repaired pieces.”
Aleandro came closer.
Rosa opened the bottom panel.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
Matteo whispered, “You have got to be kidding.”
Rosa unfolded it.
Three numbers.
4 - 12 - 9.
Daniel frowned.
“Safe combination?”
“The safe is already open,” Matteo said.
Rosa looked toward the gramophone melody written on a music sheet lying nearby.
“Not numbers.”
She searched Lucia’s bookshelf.
Fourth book.
Twelfth page.
Ninth line.
Nothing.
Aleandro noticed an old family Bible.
“Try that.”
Rosa counted.
Page twelve.
Line nine.
One word.
Garden.
Daniel looked toward the windows.
“Too easy.”
Rosa returned to the music box.
When wound, it played the same melody as the gramophone.
She listened.
Four notes.
Pause.
Twelve notes.
Pause.
Nine.
“It’s a direction.”
Aleandro understood.
“My mother’s rose garden.”
They hurried outside.
At the center of the dormant winter garden stood a stone statue.
Four steps east.
Twelve north.
Nine west.
They reached an old iron bench.
Rosa crouched.
Beneath it was a small brass plate.
Antonio Bellini’s repair mark.
Aleandro helped lift the bench.
Underneath lay a waterproof metal case.
Inside—
the ledger.
And a handwritten note.
Aleandro opened it.
If Carlo removes this, trust no one who benefits from silence.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Anything else?”
Aleandro turned the page.
A list of names.
Some were crossed out.
Others circled.
At the bottom:
Victor Hale.
Enzo Russo.
Carlo Romano.
And one additional name.
Samuel Vieri.
Everyone turned toward the doctor.
Samuel went pale.
“No.”
Daniel grabbed the ledger.
“Your name is there.”
“I can explain.”
Aleandro’s voice became icy.
“Start.”
Samuel stepped backward.
“I helped Lucia falsify medical records.”
Aleandro stared.
“Why?”
“To get her into the Switzerland program.”
Rosa frowned.
“You said Carlo stopped her.”
“He did.”
“But you forged records anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is your name beside Victor and Enzo?”
Samuel looked toward the house.
“Because Carlo discovered what I had done.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“And?”
“He threatened my family.”
“So you stopped helping my mother.”
Samuel’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Aleandro looked devastated.
Not angry.
Devastated.
One by one, every adult from his childhood was becoming someone who had failed Lucia.
Rosa touched his arm.
A small gesture.
He looked at her.
She did not speak.
He did not pull away.
Daniel continued reading.
“There’s a final page.”
Aleandro took it.
One handwritten sentence.
THE PERSON WHO PROFITS AFTER CARLO IS GONE IS THE PERSON TO FEAR.
Matteo frowned.
“Who inherits?”
Everyone looked at Aleandro.
He shook his head.
“Not me.”
Rosa blinked.
“What?”
“My father changed his will last year.”
“To whom?”
Aleandro looked toward Matteo.
Matteo raised both hands.
“Not me.”
“Then who?” Daniel demanded.
A new voice answered from behind them.
“I do.”
They turned.
Mrs. Evelyn stood at the garden entrance.
The elderly housekeeper held Carlo Romano’s cane in one hand.
And Lucia’s missing ledger case in the other.
Aleandro stared.
“Evelyn?”
She looked tired.
Older than she had that morning.
“I tried to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From becoming your father.”
Aleandro’s face hardened.
“Where is he?”
Evelyn looked toward Rosa.
Then toward the greenhouse.
“He came to confess.”
Rosa felt a chill.
“Came?”
Evelyn nodded.
“He can walk better than you were told.”
Aleandro started toward the greenhouse.
Evelyn blocked him.
“Wait.”
“Move.”
“He isn’t alone.”
Aleandro stopped.
“With who?”
Evelyn’s voice trembled.
“With the person Lucia was truly afraid of.”
Daniel looked at the ledger.
“Who?”
Evelyn whispered a name none of them expected.
“Gabriel Moretti.”
Aleandro froze.
The family enemy his father had destroyed fourteen years ago was supposed to be living in exile.
Yet a shadow moved behind the greenhouse glass.
May you like
The door handle turned.
And the man inside began to step out.
