Chapter 3 - The Man Behind the Door
“Adrian?”
Luca Moretti entered smiling.
He was Adrian’s cousin.
His oldest friend after Marco.
And according to a dead man’s recording, he was the traitor.
Elena knew none of this until she saw Adrian’s expression.
It lasted less than a second.
Shock.
Pain.
Then nothing.
Adrian became unreadable.
“Luca,” he said.
Luca glanced toward Elena.
“So it’s true.”
“What?”
“The Bellandi widow.”
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“How do you know who I am?”
Luca smiled.
“Everyone is talking.”
“Everyone?”
“Your appearance at Bellacosta caused excitement.”
Adrian moved casually between them.
“Why are you here?”
“I heard Santoro’s people were seen near the restaurant.”
“News travels quickly.”
“In our world, bad news does.”
Elena watched Luca.
Handsome.
Polished.
Friendly eyes.
The sort of man people trusted instinctively.
Marco’s voice echoed from the computer.
The traitor is someone you would trust with your own blood.
Adrian poured three glasses of water.
He gave one to Luca.
One to Elena.
He did not touch his own.
“Did you find anything?” Luca asked.
“About?”
“Why Santoro wants her.”
“No.”
Elena nearly looked at Adrian.
She stopped herself.
Luca nodded.
“Probably leverage.”
“Against whom?” Elena asked.
He shrugged.
“Marco had enemies.”
“My husband repaired elevators.”
Luca smiled faintly.
“So he told you.”
“You knew him?”
“Well.”
“How well?”
“Not as well as Adrian.”
Something about the answer felt practiced.
Sofia appeared at the doorway.
“Mama?”
Elena immediately moved toward her.
“What are you doing downstairs?”
“I had a bad dream.”
Luca looked at Sofia.
His smile disappeared.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
Adrian saw it too.
He crossed the room.
“Sofia, would you like Teresa to make hot chocolate?”
The child looked at Elena for permission.
Elena nodded.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Luca crouched.
“You look just like your father.”
Elena pulled Sofia gently behind her.
“You knew Marco too?”
“I told you.”
“No. You said you knew him. You didn’t say you knew my daughter existed.”
Luca straightened.
Silence.
Adrian’s gaze hardened.
Luca laughed softly.
“Marco carried a picture.”
Elena remembered the small photograph in Marco’s wallet.
Sofia wearing a yellow raincoat.
Three years old.
Anyone close to Marco might have seen it.
The explanation was plausible.
That made Elena even more afraid.
Teresa took Sofia away.
Luca stayed another ten minutes.
He discussed security.
Vehicles.
Men.
Routes.
All things Elena pretended not to understand.
When he finally left, Adrian waited until the sound of his car disappeared beyond the gate.
Then he locked the study door.
“That was him,” Elena said.
“Yes.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yes.”
“And Marco accused him of betraying you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe Marco?”
Adrian looked at the closed door.
“With my life.”
“Then why is Luca still breathing?”
Adrian glanced at her.
“You ask dangerous questions for someone who claims to know nothing about this world.”
“I’m learning quickly.”
A brief shadow of approval touched his face.
Then he became serious.
“If Luca is the traitor, killing him immediately would warn everyone connected to him.”
“So what do we do?”
“We?”
Elena folded her arms.
“My daughter is being hunted because of whatever Marco discovered. That makes it ‘we.’”
Adrian stared at her.
Something about Elena reminded him painfully of Marco.
Not appearance.
Defiance.
Marco had never known when to retreat either.
“We find out what Luca wants,” Adrian said.
“And what does he want?”
“The file.”
“Then let him think we don’t have it.”
“Exactly.”
Elena looked at the laptop.
“What else is on the card?”
“Let’s find out.”
Marco’s video continued.
He explained that Luca had been selling shipping routes, police contacts, and financial information to Vittorio Santoro for nearly five years.
But that was not the worst part.
Luca had discovered Marco was investigating him.
He planned to kill Marco.
Marco knew.
He kept working anyway.
“I could run,” Marco said on the recording. “But then they’ll follow Elena and Sofia. Adrian, if I disappear, protect them. Not because I served you. Because I loved you like a brother, and because they are the only good thing I ever made.”
Elena broke.
She turned away, pressing both hands to her mouth.
For two years she had wanted one more conversation.
One more chance to ask Marco whether he had suffered.
Whether he had been afraid.
Whether he knew she loved him.
Now she had his voice.
And it hurt worse than silence.
Adrian stood several feet away.
He wanted to comfort her.
He did not.
This grief belonged first to Elena.
Eventually she wiped her face.
“What else?”
“You don’t have to—”
“What else?”
Adrian resumed the video.
Marco spoke about an account.
Not money.
Evidence.
Copies of Luca’s communications.
Photographs.
Audio.
Enough to destroy him.
But the account required two access codes.
One was stored on the memory card.
The other had been given to someone called “the Archivist.”
“Who is that?” Elena asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Marco did?”
“Apparently.”
At the end of the video, Marco leaned closer.
“Elena, if you see this, I’m sorry.”
She stopped breathing.
“I wanted to tell you everything a hundred times. Every time I came home and saw you and Sofia, I wanted to become the man you thought I was.”
Elena cried silently.
“You were never part of the lie. You were the reason I wanted out of it.”
The video ended.
For a long time, neither Elena nor Adrian spoke.
Then the secure phone rang.
Adrian answered.
“Yes?”
His face changed.
“When?”
He listened.
“Alive?”
Another pause.
“Bring him.”
He ended the call.
“Who?”
“One of the men from outside the restaurant.”
Elena’s pulse quickened.
“What did he say?”
“He had your address.”
Her blood went cold.
“Our apartment?”
“Yes.”
“My things—”
“You’re not going back.”
“I have Marco’s documents there.”
“What documents?”
“Insurance papers. His old toolbox. Tax files.”
Adrian became alert.
“Toolbox?”
“Yes.”
“Did he use it?”
“He guarded it like gold.”
“Where is it?”
“In my bedroom closet.”
Adrian grabbed his jacket.
Elena followed.
“You’re not going alone.”
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“And I’m not one of your employees.”
“It could be a trap.”
“It is my home.”
“It was your home.”
The correction stung.
Adrian softened.
“Elena.”
“I need something from that apartment.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Sofia’s stuffed rabbit.”
Adrian stared.
“She’s had it since she was born.”
Of all the dangerous reasons he expected, that was not one.
He sighed.
“You stay in the car.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“That means no.”
“It means I’ll consider it.”
Thirty minutes later, they entered Elena’s building through the rear.
Her apartment door was already open.
Adrian drew a handgun.
Elena froze.
“Stay behind me.”
The apartment had been destroyed.
Drawers overturned.
Cushions ripped.
Mattress slashed.
Photographs broken.
Elena walked through the wreckage in disbelief.
Then she saw Sofia’s rabbit beneath a chair.
She picked it up.
For the first time, Adrian saw genuine relief on her face.
He turned toward the bedroom.
The closet door hung open.
The toolbox was gone.
“Elena.”
She entered.
One object rested where the toolbox had been.
A photograph.
Marco.
Alive.
Dated three days after the official date of his death.
Elena stared at it.
“No.”
Adrian picked it up.
There was writing on the back.
HE LIED TO BOTH OF YOU.
Then a phone began ringing inside the ruined closet.
May you like
It was Marco’s old phone.
The phone Elena had buried with him.
