Chapter 10 - The Brother Behind the DoorDante ordered the guards to stand back.
He approached the archive door slowly, his pistol lowered but ready.
“Matteo?”
Silence.
Then came a weak cough.
“It's been a long time, brother.”
Dante felt as though the corridor had tilted beneath his feet.
He had spent years imagining conversations with Matteo. He had imagined anger, grief, explanations, even forgiveness.
He had never imagined hearing his brother speak from behind a locked door.
“Step away from the entrance,” Dante ordered.
A faint laugh came from the other side.
“Still giving orders.”
“Step away.”
“Fine.”
Something scraped against the floor.
Dante signaled to the guards. One covered the corridor behind them while the other examined the broken lock.
Then Dante opened the door.
The archive smelled of dust, old paper, and damp stone. Shelves lined the walls, filled with boxes and leather-bound ledgers. A single lamp illuminated a wooden table in the center.
A man stood beside it.
He was taller than Dante remembered, his dark hair streaked with gray. A thin scar ran from his temple to his cheek, and his left hand rested on a cane.
But it was the eyes that confirmed everything.
Matteo's eyes.
Dante stared at him.
“You're alive.”
Matteo gave him a tired smile.
“That's what people keep telling me.”
Dante crossed the room and stopped inches away.
“Where have you been?”
“Somewhere far away.”
“Why didn't you come home?”
Matteo's smile vanished.
“Because the men who killed our father were waiting for me.”
The words struck Dante with brutal force.
“You know who killed him?”
“I know who ordered it.”
“Who?”
Matteo looked toward the open doorway.
“Not here.”
Dante grabbed his arm.
“You don't get to disappear for twenty years, walk into my estate, and tell me to wait.”
Matteo didn't resist.
“You're right.”
His voice had changed.
“I should have come back sooner.”
Dante searched his face.
“Why now?”
“Because Rafael's daughter found the star.”
Dante's grip tightened.
“How do you know about Sophie?”
Matteo glanced toward the tunnel.
“Because I've been watching the house for months. I was trying to keep her safe.”
“You were the one knocking?”
“No.”
“Were you in her bedroom?”
“Never.”
Dante watched him closely.
For the first time, Matteo appeared genuinely frightened.
“Someone else has been using the passage,” he said. “Someone who knows the old routes better than I do.”
“Carlo?”
Matteo didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Dante released his arm and stepped back.
“Tell me what happened to our father.”
Matteo took a breath.
“Our father discovered that Carlo had been selling information to Silas Vane. When he confronted him, Carlo arranged an ambush. The convoy was attacked, and our father was killed.”
“Why did everyone say it was Silas?”
“Because Carlo needed a dead enemy to take the blame.”
“And you?”
“I was supposed to die that night, too.”
Dante felt his stomach twist.
Matteo looked away.
“I survived the attack, but I was badly injured. Carlo's men found me before the ambulance arrived. They thought I was dead. One of them took my body away before the police could identify it.”
“You were seventeen.”
“I know.”
“You could have contacted me.”
“I tried.”
Dante's voice rose.
“When?”
“Three months after the attack. I called the estate. Carlo answered.”
Silence fell between them.
Matteo's expression hardened.
“He told me you knew the truth. He said you'd chosen to take his side because he had become the family's leader.”
Dante stared at him.
“I never heard from you.”
“I know that now.”
For a moment, neither brother spoke.
Then Matteo reached into his coat and produced a thin metal key.
“This opens the innermost archive cabinet. The recording proves Carlo ordered the attack, but it doesn't reveal everything. The cabinet contains the original contracts, payment records, and the names of everyone involved.”
Dante took the key.
“How do you know?”
“Because I put them there.”
Before Dante could respond, an alarm sounded throughout the estate.
A guard's voice crackled over the radio.
“Security breach! West entrance!”
Another voice followed.
“Multiple armed men approaching the ballroom!”
Dante turned toward the doorway.
Matteo caught his arm.
“Listen to me. Carlo knew I was coming tonight. If he's launched the attack, it's because he wants the archive open before you can read what's inside.”
Dante raised his pistol.
“Then we'll read it together.”
He started toward the tunnel.
Matteo followed.
As they emerged into the servants' corridor, gunfire erupted downstairs.
Dante's radio crackled again.
“Boss! They're inside the estate!”
Then a second voice, panicked and high-pitched, cut through the noise.
“Mr. Dante!”
Sophie's voice.
“Bruno's gone!”
Dante froze.
The radio hissed.
A man's voice replaced Sophie's.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Dante Moretti,” Carlo Bellini said. “Come to the ballroom alone.”
A pause.
Then Carlo spoke again.
“Bring the key.”
Dante looked at Matteo.
His younger brother had gone pale.
“What does he want?” Dante demanded.
Matteo stared toward the staircase.
“The last thing our father hid.”
“What?”
Matteo swallowed.
“The real ownership records. The evidence that Carlo never inherited his power.”
Another burst of gunfire echoed through the estate.
Then came a sound Dante would never forget.
Three sharp knocks.
Not from a wall.
Not from a hidden passage.
From the radio itself, as somebody tapped on the microphone.
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And beneath the static, Sophie whispered a single word.
“Help.”
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