Chapter 72
ROME
“Iwant to thank the two of you for meeting with me today,” Sean said.
Adria glanced at Helen, who responded with a curt, “Of course.”
Their three Right hands stood against the cavern walls. The bodies of Alessandro and Callen were gone, and the blood that once stained the floor had vanished. Adria’s gaze lingered at the pool’s edge, a reminder of the darkness that had transpired.
Miss Federov, I know we’ve had our differences, but I wanted to call this meetin’ as a way to take a clean step forward—a bit o’ transparency, so to speak.”
Adria forced a warm smile, her heart racing with uncertainty. “Please, Sean, call me Adria.”
Sean nodded. “And, Helen, I hope there’s no hard feelin’s now. When Alessandro asked me for me vote on Callen, I hadn’t a clue they were mixed up in unsanctioned business.”
Helen’s smile didn’t reach her eyes and her voice was a class on professionalism. “All under the bridge, Sean. I’d like to move forward with a new sense of unity.”
Sean produced a key from his coat pocket. “This is the key to the head seats’ chamber. Normally, I’d go in alone, but I’m with Helen on this one, and I want us movin’ forward as a team. So, I asked ye here to do a sweep of Alessandro’s chambers with me.”
Adria’s mouth fell open in shock. Sean was inviting them into the inner chamber. While doubts about Sean’s loyalties still clung to her, this gesture was beyond anything she had anticipated.
“It would be an honor to attend with you,” Helen said.
As they moved deeper into the chambers, the sounds of water faded, replaced by the echo of their footsteps—subtle yet heavy with unspoken weight.
“I’d say we can schedule Mrs. Winters’s ascension sometime in the next six months,” Sean said. “Let the Nine settle first, then we’ll sort hers—and the open seat after.”
Helen nodded. “Agreed.”
Adria’s heart raced as she found herself nodding along with them; being part of the Triune still felt surreal. She wasn’t accustomed to such casual discussions about the Nine’s inner workings. Adria needed to remind herself to stay vigilant—she could not afford to become an outsider.
After a final turn, Sean halted before a metal door, and Adria’s eyes were glued to the threshold. As it swung open, her preconceived notions melted away.
Old tomes lined the walls, and chest upon chest were stacked in the center. The desk, if one could call it that, to Adria it was just a haphazardly stacked pile of crates, with a chaotic jumble of papers, half-open files, and scattered pens.
Rather than the office of the head of an ancient secret society, it was reminiscent of a mad librarian’s study
Following Sean and Helen into the space, Adria turned, struck dumb by the sight. Papers and images were taped to the wall, creating a web of clues—a display that reminded her of a TV detective show.
“What the hell?” Helen whispered behind her.
“This is an absolute mess,” Sean remarked, taking pointed steps around the room.
“This will take months to sort through,” Helen added, frustration creeping into her voice.
Adria wanted to focus on her comrades, but her eyes noticed a photo beneath a yellowed letter. The image was a woman in a feathered hat. She wore a silver locket around her neck. Adria’s breath caught in her throat—it was her mother’s locket.
Adria read the letter, her heart racing. It was some sort of oath, ending in;
Our reasons are our own—Beneath the stones and under the watched stars. We name ourselves what we are: Keepers of the Veil. Henceforth known as the Nine.
Part of the signature was burned away, but Adria could see the first name clearly: Isadora.
“What do you think he was looking for?” Helen asked from behind her.
“It looks like the Originals’ chamber,” Sean replied.
“What is the original chamber?” Adria asked, her voice hallow.
“Originals, dear,” Helen said. “It’s a chamber where, legend has it, the original Triune locked away a secret too big for the Nine to handle as a whole—something that needed absolute secrecy.”
“Only the original Triune members know where it was and only the Originals can open it,” Sean added, his tone grave.
Adria shook her head. “But Alessandro is the only seat left of the Originals.”
“True,” Helen said. “But that doesn’t mean the information is dead. Families are still out there. Look—” She pointed to another letter on the wall. “Here are the signatures of the Original Nine.”
Sean paced further into the room, pulling down a portrait that hung on the far wall, revealing a safe with two keyholes. “This key, along with another, opens the box that holds all the information the Nine have on the original Triune.”
“Where would Alessandro have left the other?” Helen asked.
“I was rather hoping we would find it in here,” Sean said, poking through a stack of papers on the desk.
Adria’s gaze continued to drift along the wall; a folded piece of paper with the Serra symbol caught her eye.
Sean and Helen were behind her, combing the office, but Adria fell into absolute silence.
The world seemed to narrow around her, a moment that felt benign yet monumental.
Her mother’s symbol was here, in Alessandro’s office—a photo of her relative sat front and center in a web of confusing clues and breadcrumbs of truth.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the ancient paper. A key clattered to the ground, but Adria ignored it, her mind consumed with wanting to know why Alessandro had been so fixated on the Serras.
I, Marcelo Virelli, write this entry willingly and without coercion, as the Head of the Nine and one of its original founders.
On April 27th, Isadora Serra, founder, and first Seat of the Triune, entered into marriage with Viktor Fedorov. The union was sanctioned by the Nine and, by all outward appearances, was one of affection and strategic harmony.
For two years, they lived in peace and produced an heir. However, in the second year, I noted a shift. Viktor began cultivating relationships with other founders—conversations behind closed doors, alliances that undermined the balance we had built. Whispers of betrayal followed.
Months later, Isadora was found dead in her private quarters. The cause of death remains officially unconfirmed, but many of us suspected foul play.
With the Serra heir too young to undergo their Ascension Trials, Viktor Fedorov assumed control of the Seat and the Serra estate.
At the time, I had suspicions—but no proof. I recorded this entry as I understood the truth then.
**Addendum — Logged by Alaric Duvant, Current Head of the Nine
In light of recent revelations, I am compelled to amend the above entry.
We now believe Marcelo Virelli was compromised. All prior entries under his name should be reviewed with caution, and any claims made therein considered suspect.
It is believed that Isadora Serra succumbed to the weight of running the Nine and took her own life. This type of cowardice will not stand, and the Serra lineage has been formally stricken from the record. From now on, the Seat shall remain under the authority of the Fedorov bloodline.
Let this stand as an official record.
Adria’s hands trembled along the paper. Her mother had not mentioned that Isadora was a founding member of the Nine. No not just a founding member, the founding member. Isadora
Serra had sat on the first seat.
“Well that explains quite a bit, actually,” Helen said from over Adria’s shoulder.
Adria turned to see the woman had been reading from behind her.
“Alessandro was always adamant that you were not ready to ascend. Every chair that you rose into, Sean and I voted you in,” Helen said, handing the letter to Sean.
Adria was speechless. She numbly walked to Alessandro’s desk.
“This is very odd,” Sean said. “Why would he want to keep a discovery like this a secret.”
“Because he didn’t want to share,” Helen said. “If Adria was revealed to be an Original, Triune or not, he would be required to share things with her. Perhaps he was close to finding the chamber; I imagine he didn’t want to share that either.”
“Hold on now, I don’t think we can be goin’ ’round sayin’ Adria’s an Original — the bloodline’s too long gone,” Sean said. “There’d have to be a more recent union for it to count.”
Adria wasn’t sure she wanted the bloodline recognized at all.
Helen brushed past Adria, pulling out a bit of paper on the desk. “Maybe something like this,” she said.
Adria watched in a daze as Helen held up a photo of Adria’s mother against the wall.
She was wearing the same locket as Isadora and the resemblance was unmistakable.
Sean glanced between the two images. “That is impossible…”
“We wondered why Alessandro risked everything to work with Callen,” Helen said.
“Well, here’s your reason. Alessandro found out the truth and was desperate to keep it a secret.
So much so that when Callen brought him the plan to get Adria killed, Alessandro couldn’t pass it up. He couldn’t risk the alternative.”
“Fuck,” Sean said, running his fingers along the outside of his beard.
“My mother told me her family’s plan was to get the Serra’s back at the table,” Adria whispered and all eyes turned to hers.
“She never mentioned any of this.” Adria gestured around her. “Or anything about a secret chamber.”
Sean’s eyebrows rose just a fraction before his expression closed into something contemplative. “I didn’t think I would be saying this, but this key is yours. As head of the Triune, I have the other. But when you are ready, we can open it.”
We.
Adria glanced at Helen who gave her the slightest shake of her head.
It was a reminder. Adria was part of the Triune, but that didn’t mean she was safe.
This room was a living embodiment of that.
Alessandro had been secretly plotting around her for years.
What he was planning wasn’t clear, but Adria was sure that he had been watching closely.
And she knew from Cole’s records that he had been secretly opposing her since she was seventeen.
She hated to admit it, but if it hadn’t been for X she might have fallen for his plans a long time ago. Young, na?ve and near sighted. Adria pressed into her center. What the fuck was she supposed to do with this information.
She took the key from Sean’s outstretched hand. The cool metal feeling heavy in her pocket.
They left the chamber with the plan that Sean would go through the rest of the documents.
If there was any information that pertained to Adria, he would send it along.
But Adria wasn’t na?ve enough to believe him.
If Sean thought it would help him, he would share it.
If he thought it would hurt him, then he would bury it.
Helen gave her a soft hug as the pair separated in the parking garage above the chambers. Adria moved to pull away, but Helen kept her arms firm around her.
Her soft voice came subtle in Adria’s ear. “Be careful, Adria, that entire room was filled with information about you and your lineage. That type of obsession means something.”
Adria swallowed. Eric and Seth were still in the hospital. She didn’t need this right now.
Helen broke the embrace, but not before she slipped Adria a soft piece of paper.
It wasn’t until Adria got in the car that she looked at the two images Helen had given her. One of her mother and one of her great-great-great-great grandmother, Isadora Serra. The founding fucking member and Original of the Nine.