CHAPTER 5
The lights went out.
Elara barely had time to breathe before Alessandro caught her arm and pulled her behind him.
Another crash came from the eastern wing.
Dante moved first.
"Stay here."
He disappeared into the darkness.
Luca reached for the emergency panel beside the wall. A faint red light flickered, then died.
"Power's been cut."
Alessandro looked toward the stairs.
"How?"
Luca shook his head. "I'm checking."
Elara pressed herself against the wall.
The estate that had seemed so secure only hours ago suddenly felt exposed.
A door slammed somewhere below.
Dante's voice echoed through the corridor.
"Nothing here."
Alessandro's hand remained around Elara's arm.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Look at me."
She did.
His eyes moved over her face, searching for any sign of injury.
"I'm fine."
A faint crackle came from the emergency lights.
One bulb came alive.
Then another.
The corridor appeared in patches of weak light.
Broken glass glittered near the eastern window.
Elara looked at it.
"That window."
Alessandro followed her gaze.
Dante returned.
"Nobody came through there."
Elara frowned.
"How do you know?"
"I checked the outside."
She stepped closer to the window.
The glass lay mostly on the inside of the room.
She looked at Alessandro.
"The glass was broken from inside."
Nobody spoke.
Luca joined them.
He crouched beside the window and examined the frame.
"She's right."
Dante swore under his breath.
Alessandro's expression hardened.
"So the window was staged."
"Looks that way," Luca said.
Elara looked around.
"Then how did they get in?"
"We don't know," Alessandro replied.
"You can't protect me from something you can't see."
His eyes met hers.
"Then I'll find it."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
For a moment, Elara saw the frustration beneath his control.
He wasn't angry with her.
He was angry with himself.
Luca returned from the library.
His expression was grim.
"The intruder didn't take anything valuable."
Alessandro turned.
"What did they take?"
"Nothing."
"Then why break in?"
Luca looked at Elara.
"They weren't looking for you."
Her stomach tightened.
"What were they looking for?"
"Your father's history."
The words settled over the corridor.
Elara looked toward the library.
"Show me."
Alessandro caught her before she could move.
"No."
She turned sharply.
"I need to see."
"You've had enough tonight."
"I'm not going to sit in a room while strangers search through my father's life."
Alessandro released her.
"Then stay beside me."
They entered the library.
Several drawers had been pulled open.
Books lay scattered across the carpet.
But the damage was strangely selective.
Luca pointed toward a shelf.
"These."
Elara recognized the section.
Her father's records.
Someone had searched exactly where the oldest documents were kept.
She bent to pick up a fallen folder.
A shard of glass had caught against her cheek.
Alessandro noticed.
"Hold still."
He stepped close.
His thumb brushed lightly beneath her cheekbone.
Elara stopped breathing.
He removed the tiny piece of glass and looked at it between his fingers.
"You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
His eyes remained on her face.
"It could have been worse."
Their gazes met.
For one brief moment, the noise around them seemed to disappear.
Then Luca spoke.
"We need to check the archive."
Alessandro stepped back.
Elara touched her cheek.
The cut was barely there.
But his touch remained.
Luca moved toward the damaged shelves.
"Someone knew exactly where to look."
Elara looked at the scattered papers.
"Then they knew something about my father."
Luca nodded.
"And they were willing to enter this house to find it."
She stared at the ruined archive.
Whatever had begun with her father's death was no longer hidden in the past.
Someone was digging it up.
And they were getting closer.
Morning came without rest.
Elara sat at the long dining table with three cups of untouched coffee in front of her.
Alessandro entered first.
He stopped when he saw her.
"You haven't slept."
"Neither have you."
He pulled out a chair.
"What do you want?"
"Answers."
His expression suggested he had expected that.
"About?"
"My father."
Alessandro sat opposite her.
Elara folded her hands.
"What did Matteo mean to your family?"
"An ally."
"Was he trusted?"
"Once."
"Why did that change?"
Alessandro looked toward the window.
"Because he disappeared."
"That's all?"
"No."
"Then what?"
He met her eyes.
"Some believed he betrayed us."
"Did you?"
A pause.
"I was young."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
He didn't elaborate.
Elara nodded slowly.
She had what she needed.
Not the truth.
But a piece of it.
Dante entered next.
Elara waited until Alessandro left.
"You knew my father."
Dante poured coffee.
"Yes."
"What happened between him and your family?"
"He helped us during a dispute."
"What kind?"
"Business."
"Then why did you stop trusting him?"
Dante looked at her.
"He disappeared."
"Same answer."
"Because that's what happened."
"Did you believe he betrayed you?"
Dante's fingers tightened around the cup.
"That's what we believed."
"Do you still?"
He was silent.
Elara waited.
"No."
The answer was quiet.
She hadn't expected it.
"Why not?"
"Because too many things don't fit."
"Such as?"
Dante looked toward the door.
"Ask Luca."
Elara frowned.
"Why?"
"He knows more about the records."
Then he left.
Luca appeared several minutes later.
He took the seat Dante had left.
Elara studied him.
"My father."
Luca smiled faintly.
"You've been collecting answers."
"I'm collecting contradictions."
"Good."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Alessandro says my father was trusted until he disappeared."
Luca nodded.
"Dante says the same."
"But?"
Luca leaned back.
"I think someone wanted them to believe he betrayed them."
"Why?"
"Because Matteo was investigating someone inside the alliance."
Elara went still.
"Someone inside the families?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You always say that."
"Because it's true."
She watched his face.
"Do you think my father was innocent?"
"I think the evidence against him was too convenient."
"That's different."
"It is."
Luca looked toward the empty doorway.
"Your father knew something."
"And someone wanted him silent."
"That's my suspicion."
Elara sat back.
Three men.
Three versions.
None identical.
Alessandro believed Matteo's disappearance damaged the alliance.
Dante had once believed he was a traitor but no longer did.
Luca believed the entire betrayal story might have been manufactured.
Elara looked at Luca.
"You've been investigating this."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Years."
She narrowed her eyes.
"And you never thought to tell me?"
"I didn't know where you were."
"You knew my name."
"I did."
She leaned closer.
"You've been watching me too."
"No."
He paused.
"I've been watching the story."
She almost smiled.
"That's a very convenient distinction."
"It happens to be true."
Luca's gaze held hers.
"You've been comparing our answers."
She didn't deny it.
He smiled.
"Good."
"Good?"
"I was wondering how long it would take you."
Elara shook her head.
"You three really are impossible."
"That may be the first thing we've agreed on."
For the first time, she laughed.
It was brief.
But Luca noticed.
So did she.
Luca led Elara through the library after breakfast.
They stopped before a wall of dark shelves.
He reached between two books and pressed a hidden latch.
A section of shelving moved inward.
Elara stared.
"You have got to be joking."
"I wish I were."
Behind the shelves was a narrow room lined with old files.
Dust covered most of the cabinets.
A single lamp hung above a wooden desk.
Elara stepped inside.
"How long has this been here?"
"Long enough."
"Who knows about it?"
"Very few people."
"Does Alessandro?"
"Not everything."
"And Dante?"
"Less."
She looked at him.
"So you really do keep secrets from them."
"I keep information until I know what it means."
Luca placed several folders on the desk.
"This is Matteo's timeline."
Elara opened the first.
Dates.
Locations.
Names.
Her eyes moved quickly.
"This says my father met someone three days before he supposedly returned home."
"Yes."
"He wasn't supposed to be in Bellacorte."
"Correct."
She opened another file.
"The date of his final meeting is wrong."
"By four days."
Elara looked up.
"Someone changed this."
"That's what I believe."
"Can you prove it?"
"Not yet."
She stared at the documents.
"Why did you keep looking?"
Luca leaned against the desk.
"Because the more I looked, the less your father's story made sense."
"And now?"
"Now I think someone wanted all of us to believe the same lie."
Elara looked at him.
"Do you trust me?"
"I don't."
Her expression fell.
Luca continued.
"Not completely."
She let out a breath.
"That's honest."
"I've spent my life around people who lie beautifully."
His gaze softened.
"You don't."
"How do you know?"
"When you're angry, you say exactly what you mean."
She smiled despite herself.
"Maybe that's a flaw."
"Maybe."
He reached for a document.
She reached for the same one.
Their fingers touched.
Neither moved.
Luca looked at her.
Elara felt the change in the air between them.
"You make this difficult," he said.
"What?"
"Remembering that I'm supposed to keep my distance."
She didn't look away.
"Then don't pretend you aren't curious."
A slow smile appeared.
"I'm very curious."
The moment lasted one heartbeat too long.
Elara finally withdrew her hand.
Luca opened the document.
Something slipped from inside the file.
A photograph fell onto the desk.
Elara picked it up.
Her breath caught.
It showed Matteo.
Young.
Smiling.
And standing beside a woman.
Elara stared at the unfamiliar face.
Something about her felt strangely familiar.
"Who is she?"
Luca looked at the photograph.
"I don't know."
Elara turned it over.
Nothing.
She looked back at the woman.
The feeling remained.
She had seen that face before.
Somewhere.
A long time ago.
Dante entered the library later that morning and found Elara still holding the photograph.
"Where did you get that?"
His voice changed the moment he saw it.
Elara noticed.
"You know her."
Dante stopped.
"Maybe."
"That's not an answer."
He looked at the woman again.
"I've seen her."
"Where?"
"I don't remember."
Elara's patience snapped.
"Everyone remembers everything except the things that matter."
Dante stepped closer.
"Elara."
"Who is she?"
He looked at Luca.
Luca said nothing.
Alessandro entered the room.
His eyes went immediately to the photograph.
He stopped.
Elara looked between the three men.
"Who is she?"
No answer.
Her pulse quickened.
Then something inside her shifted.
The photograph blurred.
Not because of tears.
Because a memory had surfaced.
A garden.
Sunlight.
Her father's hand.
A woman laughing softly.
A silver pendant resting against her throat.
Elara gasped.
"My mother."
The room went silent.
Dante's expression softened.
"You're sure?"
Elara nodded.
"I remember her."
She closed her eyes.
The memory grew clearer.
Her mother kneeling in front of her.
A hand smoothing her hair.
A voice whispering that everything would be fine.
Then the memory vanished.
Elara opened her eyes.
Her face was wet.
She hadn't noticed herself crying.
Dante pulled out a chair.
"Sit."
"I don't want to."
"Elara."
She looked at him.
His voice was gentle.
"Sit."
She did.
Dante crouched beside her.
He didn't touch her.
He waited.
Elara wiped her face.
"I don't remember her voice."
"You remembered enough."
"It isn't fair."
"No."
"My father kept her from me."
"Maybe he thought he was protecting you."
She gave a broken laugh.
"Everyone says that."
Dante's expression tightened.
"Then maybe we should stop saying it."
She looked at him.
He offered his hand.
She hesitated.
Then took it.
His fingers closed around hers.
No demand.
No pressure.
Just warmth.
"You don't have to be strong every minute," he said.
Elara swallowed.
"I don't know how not to be."
"Then learn."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Dante squeezed her hand once.
Across the room, Alessandro watched them.
He understood something he hadn't wanted to admit.
The woman they had taken from her home was changing.
And so were they.
Elara looked at the photograph again.
The woman beside Matteo wore a silver pendant.
Exactly like the one from her memory.
She turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
Four words.
Your mother knew the truth.
Elara stared at the sentence.
Then she looked at the three men.
"What truth?"
Nobody answered.
By evening, the four of them were gathered in the private library.
The photograph lay between them.
Elara stood with her arms folded.
"What truth did my mother know?"
Alessandro answered first.
"Isolde had contact with the three families."
"Contact?"
"Yes."
Dante added, "She came to Bellacorte more than once."
Elara looked at him.
"You knew her."
"I knew of her."
"That's the answer everyone gives."
Dante lowered his eyes.
Luca opened an old ledger.
"There may be more."
He turned several pages.
Then stopped.
"There."
Elara moved closer.
Her mother's name appeared beside Matteo's.
Isolde Vesperi.
Elara's breath caught.
Beside the names was another entry.
Part of the page had been damaged.
Only one letter remained.
V.
"Who is that?"
"We don't know," Luca said.
Alessandro's gaze remained on the page.
Elara looked at all three.
"Why are you helping me?"
Alessandro answered quietly.
"Because you deserve the truth."
Dante looked at the photograph.
"Because your father deserved better than what they said about him."
Luca met her eyes.
"And because I don't want you facing this alone."
Something moved inside her.
She had entered the estate as a captive.
Now she looked at the three men and saw something more complicated.
Men she feared.
Men she questioned.
Men she was beginning to trust.
That frightened her more than the locked gates ever had.
Elara returned to the photograph.
She studied her mother's necklace.
Then she froze.
"Wait."
Luca looked over.
"What?"
"The pendant."
He came closer.
Elara pointed beneath the silver oval.
A second chain hung from it.
Attached to the chain was a tiny key.
"My mother had that."
Dante frowned.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what it opens?"
Elara shook her head.
"No."
Then another memory surfaced.
Her father's voice.
A warning from years ago.
If you ever find your mother's key, don't use it unless you're ready to lose everything.
Elara stepped back.
"What did he mean?"
No one could answer.
A knock sounded at the library door.
Once.
Twice.
Everyone turned.
A woman's voice came from the other side.
"Elara?"
Elara's heart skipped.
She knew that voice.
"Serafina?"
The door opened.
Serafina Valcieri stood in the doorway, elegant and composed, a dark shawl draped over her shoulders.
Her eyes moved over the three men before settling on Elara.
She smiled.
"I think you should know what your mother left behind."
Elara stared at her.
"What?"
Serafina's smile disappeared.
"A key isn't useful unless you know which door it opens."
She stepped inside.
"And your mother left more than one."