CHAPTER 3 #2
"To help."
"With what?"
"A dispute."
Dante rubbed a hand across his jaw.
"It was years ago. My family was fighting over control of a shipping operation. Things were getting ugly."
Elara's gaze sharpened.
"And my father became involved."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he knew something we didn't."
"Which was?"
Dante looked at Alessandro.
Alessandro gave a slight nod.
Dante continued.
"He knew someone was manipulating the dispute."
Elara's heart beat faster.
"Who?"
"We never found out."
"But you blamed him."
Dante's eyes hardened.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he disappeared."
Elara stared at him.
"You thought he betrayed you because he left?"
"I thought he chose himself over everyone else."
"And did you hate him?"
Dante didn't look away.
"Yes."
The honesty hurt more than an excuse would have.
Elara swallowed.
"You didn't know him."
"I thought I did."
He paused.
"I was wrong."
The room became very still.
Dante looked down at his hands.
"The last time I saw your father, he told me something."
"What?"
"He said, 'One day you'll realize I was trying to protect you.'"
Elara's breath caught.
"Protect you from what?"
"I never found out."
Dante looked at her.
"Until now."
She frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I think he was talking about what happened after he left Bellacorte."
Elara's eyes burned.
"My father spent his whole life trying to protect me from something none of you will name."
Nobody answered.
She turned away.
For years, she had thought Matteo's secrecy came from fear.
Now she wondered whether it had come from sacrifice.
Dante stepped closer.
"I owe you an apology."
She looked at him.
"For what?"
"For blaming you for what I believed your father did."
His voice was rough.
"You didn't deserve that."
Elara studied his face.
The anger she had seen in him since the night they arrived was still there.
But something else had appeared beneath it.
Regret.
"I accept your apology," she said.
Dante nodded once.
It seemed enough for him.
He left the room.
Luca entered moments later carrying a folder.
"I found something."
He placed it on the desk.
Elara opened it.
An old newspaper clipping.
Her breath stopped.
The photograph showed her father.
Young.
Healthy.
Standing beside three men.
Elara recognized Carlo Moretti.
Marcello Romano.
Enzo De Santis.
She looked at Luca.
"When was this?"
He pointed to the date beneath the photograph.
Twenty years earlier.
Elara touched her father's face.
"He knew all of them."
Luca nodded.
"More than knew them."
Elara looked toward Alessandro.
"What does this mean?"
He didn't answer.
She looked at Dante.
Neither did he.
For the first time, all three men looked as though they were afraid of the same thing.
The library fell silent.
Elara placed the newspaper clipping beneath the lamp.
The photograph was clearer there.
Matteo stood in the center, younger by decades, his expression serious but confident.
Beside him stood Carlo Moretti, Marcello Romano, and Enzo De Santis.
They were not strangers standing together by chance.
They looked like men who had made an agreement.
Elara traced the edge of the photograph.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
Luca examined the article.
"Maybe he thought he was protecting you."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
She looked at Alessandro.
"What was this?"
He read the article.
"It was a private agreement."
"Between the four of them?"
"Yes."
"What kind of agreement?"
"To protect Bellacorte's future."
Elara gave a bitter laugh.
"My father was protecting Bellacorte?"
"Apparently."
She looked back at the photograph.
Then something caught her attention.
A dark shape stood behind the four men.
A woman.
Her face was partly hidden.
Elara leaned closer.
"Who is she?"
Luca studied the image.
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
"I can try."
"No."
He looked at her.
"I want to investigate with you."
The words surprised all three men.
Alessandro's eyes rested on her.
Dante folded his arms.
Luca smiled faintly.
"All right."
Elara turned the newspaper over.
There was writing on the back.
Old ink.
Fresh enough to remain readable.
Alessandro stepped closer.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He took the paper from her.
She watched his eyes move across the words.
"What does it say?"
He didn't answer.
"Alessandro."
He turned the paper around.
Elara read the sentence.
They were never supposed to know she existed.
Her pulse stumbled.
"Who?"
Silence.
She looked at Luca.
Then Dante.
"Who were they not supposed to know existed?"
Dante's face had gone pale.
His eyes moved toward Alessandro.
Elara's voice became sharper.
"Tell me."
Dante finally spoke.
"Your mother."
Elara stared at him.
The room seemed to tilt.
"My mother?"
Nobody moved.
"My mother died when I was young."
"I know," Dante said.
"You knew her?"
His silence answered before his words could.
Elara looked at Alessandro.
"You knew her too."
He didn't deny it.
Her heart began pounding.
"Why have none of you mentioned her?"
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
Then at Elara.
"We didn't know how much you knew."
"I knew she existed."
"That's not what I meant."
Elara stepped closer.
"What did my mother know?"
No answer.
"What was she involved in?"
Still nothing.
Luca's eyes lowered.
Dante looked toward the window.
Alessandro remained silent.
Elara stared at the three men who had taken her from her home, protected her, questioned her, and now stood around the fragments of a life she had never been allowed to understand.
Her father had lied.
Her mother had been hidden.
And the three families had known both of them.
She looked again at the photograph.
For the first time, Bellacorte no longer felt like a city her father had escaped.
It felt like a place he had spent years trying to keep from reaching her.
And somewhere inside that city was a truth her parents had died carrying.