CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Last Witness
The first gunshot echoed.
The second came less than a second later.
Then silence.
Not complete silence.
Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, water dripped steadily from the stone ceiling.
Every person in the archive instinctively turned toward the corridor.
A guard's frantic voice crackled through the radio.
"Shots fired!"
"West tunnel!"
"...Captain Bellini is alive!"
Alessandro was already moving.
"With me."
Four security officers followed him at a sprint.
I started after them.
He turned sharply.
"Stay here."
"I can't."
"If whoever planned this wanted Isabella alive, she stays where I can protect her."
I looked around the underground archive.
It suddenly felt less like protection...
And more like a cage.
The tunnel twisted beneath the mansion for nearly two hundred feet.
Old brick gave way to reinforced concrete.
The air smelled different here.
Not dust.
Cordite.
Fresh gunpowder.
Someone had fired only moments ago.
A flashlight beam swept across the floor.
Blood.
Small drops.
Leading deeper into the passage.
Not enough for a fatal wound.
Someone was moving.
Someone injured.
Another guard called out.
"Here!"
Marco Bellini lay slumped against the wall.
His suit jacket was soaked in blood.
A bullet had passed cleanly through his left shoulder.
His service pistol rested several feet away.
He looked pale.
But conscious.
The moment he saw Alessandro...
He laughed.
A tired, defeated laugh.
"You finally came."
Alessandro knelt beside him.
"Who shot you?"
Marco coughed.
"...I don't know."
"Liar."
"I never saw his face."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Marco slowly shook his head.
"I expected him to kill me."
The estate physician arrived moments later.
"He's losing blood."
He cut away Marco's jacket.
"The bullet missed the artery."
"He'll live."
"For now."
Marco smiled weakly.
"Ironic."
Alessandro dismissed everyone except two guards.
"I want the truth."
Marco stared at the ceiling.
"You won't like it."
"I rarely do."
A long silence followed.
Then Marco finally spoke.
"I knew Vanessa wasn't pregnant."
No one looked surprised.
"I helped hide the cushion."
Again...
No surprise.
"But..."
He swallowed painfully.
"...that wasn't the assignment."
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
"What was?"
"Keeping you inside the mansion."
The tunnel seemed to grow colder.
"The fake pregnancy..."
Marco closed his eyes.
"...was bait."
Back in the archive, I couldn't stay still.
Emma had fallen asleep against my shoulder.
Exhaustion had finally claimed her.
I watched the tunnel entrance.
Waiting.
Listening.
Sophia sat quietly beside the opened box.
She hadn't spoken since admitting Elena was her daughter.
Her hands rested on the photograph of the two newborn babies.
She looked twenty years older than she had that morning.
Finally...
She spoke.
Without looking at me.
"Your mother..."
I looked up.
"...wasn't who you believed."
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
"You knew her?"
Sophia nodded.
"I knew both of them."
"Both?"
"Your mother..."
She pointed toward the photograph.
"...and Elena."
I frowned.
"You said Elena was your daughter."
"I lied."
She looked at me.
"Again."
The word hung heavily between us.
"I've been lying for twenty-six years."
Before I could ask another question...
Daniel suddenly grabbed my arm.
"Listen."
The room fell silent.
At first...
I heard nothing.
Then...
Very faintly...
Footsteps.
Not running.
Walking.
Slow.
Measured.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A cane.
The sound was unmistakable.
Emma stirred in her sleep.
Without opening her eyes, she whispered,
"The piano man."
The footsteps stopped outside the archive.
Nobody breathed.
Then...
A familiar voice echoed through the darkness.
"Marco always was loyal."
A pause.
"Unfortunately..."
"...he chose the wrong family."
Daniel went white.
"He's here."
Alessandro returned at that exact moment, emerging from the tunnel.
His shirt sleeves were stained with Marco's blood.
"Everyone back."
He drew his pistol.
The cane tapped once more.
Then an elderly man stepped into the light.
White beard.
Gray overcoat.
Black cane.
Exactly as Emma had described him.
Exactly as he had appeared in the impossible surveillance footage.
He smiled warmly.
Like a grandfather visiting family on a Sunday afternoon.
"So..."
His eyes settled on Emma.
"...we finally meet properly."
I instinctively moved in front of her.
"Stay away from my daughter."
He stopped.
"I've never intended her harm."
His voice carried no anger.
Only sadness.
Alessandro raised the pistol.
"Who are you?"
The old man looked at him.
"I've had many names."
"C-17."
"Luca."
"Ghost."
He smiled faintly.
"But the name my mother gave me..."
His eyes drifted briefly toward Sophia.
"...was Lucien."
Sophia gasped.
"Lucien..."
Not Luca.
Lucien.
One letter.
One lie.
One life erased.
Tears filled her eyes.
"My son..."
Lucien bowed his head slightly.
"I was."
The room stood frozen.
Alessandro didn't lower the gun.
"You're behind this."
Lucien nodded.
"Yes."
"The fake pregnancy."
"Yes."
"The courier's murder."
"No."
That answer surprised everyone.
"I don't kill."
"You expect us to believe that?"
Lucien looked almost offended.
"I expose monsters."
"They kill each other."
Daniel whispered,
"That's true..."
Everyone looked at him.
"He always said..."
"'Give evil enough rope...'"
"...'and it hangs itself.'"
Lucien slowly reached into his coat.
Every weapon in the room lifted instantly.
"Don't move!"
He smiled.
"If I wanted violence..."
"...you'd already be dead."
He removed...
Not a gun.
A worn leather folder.
He held it toward Alessandro.
"This..."
"...is what tonight was really about."
"What is it?"
"The first file."
Alessandro took it cautiously.
The cover read:
PROJECT HEIR
PHASE ONE
He opened it.
His expression changed immediately.
For the first time since this nightmare began...
The unshakable Alessandro Moretti looked genuinely stunned.
"What is it?"
Sophia asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead...
He slowly turned the folder around.
Inside was a newspaper clipping.
Twenty-eight years old.
The headline read:
MORETTI DYNASTY WELCOMES NEWBORN SON
Below the headline...
Was a photograph.
A smiling young Sophia.
Her husband.
A baby wrapped in a floral blanket.
And standing just behind them...
Holding the infant...
Was a young nurse.
I stopped breathing.
The nurse looked exactly like my mother.
Lucien looked directly at me.
Then quietly delivered the sentence that changed everything once again.
"Isabella..."
"...your mother didn't work for the Morettis."
A long pause.
May you like
"She owned them."
End of Chapter Thirteen
