06_The Grave Beyond the Tunnel

The ring reflected the glint of the moonlight.

Not the hollow sockets of the skull or the splintered bone fragments, but the small hint of gold peeking from a decayed finger—etched with a crest Rosana recognized from one the old photos found in her mother's belongings.

De Luca.

Her breath froze, her chest tightening as something inside her tilted and twisted. She stumbled back instinctively out of Sergio’s hold, a cry snagging in her throat.

Sergio rushed after her just as her gasp broke the silence.

Before she could recoil further, his arms closed around her, pulling her face into his chest once more.

“Shhhh.... ,” he murmured soothingly against her temple, his hands running through her hair. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. Not surprised. Not shocked. Just… resigned. "I never wanted you to see this."

But it was already too late.

The twisted image of the skeletal corpse with its hollow sockets and its damned gold ring was already stuck Rosy's mind.

She shoved him away, harder than she thought she could, her strength coming from the sudden anger she felt.

“What is that?” she demanded, her voice sharp and breathless. She pointed one trembling finger at the carcass behind him.

Sergio didn’t flinch.

“You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“But I did.” She pointed toward the skeleton again, voice rising. “Tell me who that is.”

He sighed and crouched by the body, brushing dirt from the fabric clinging to the ribcage.

“Giovanni,” he said finally. “Your father’s driver. Or that’s who we think it was.”

“You think?” Rosana’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, as though she could somehow use that to keep herself from falling apart. “And what... he just… died out here? Alone?”

Sergio let the fabric fall back over the bones and stood up.

“He was trying to flee. During the fire at the De Luca estate.”

She stared hard at him, a thought beginning to take form within her.

"You were there, weren't you?" she asked him quietly, her sharp eyes taking in the pained look on his face as he looked down at the skeleton.

Sergio grunted but didn't respond, his brows furrowing in annoyance.

“And you let him die.” she went on, her tone cold.

Sergio’s face became blank.

“What did you expect me to do? There was a lot happening that night.”

Rosana swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat. “Spare me that. That's just an excuse you tell yourself so you could live with the guilt.”

He faced her, brushing dirt off his hands.

“Believe me or not, I don't really care. You asked to know the truth. This is part of it.”

“No,” she shot back. “You brought me here. You walked me into this graveyard. Why?”

Sergio didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was softer than she expected.

“Because one day, this will be yours. You should know what it’s built on.”

She looked at the skeleton again, her skin crawling.

“A legacy of rot.... That's what it is. I want no part of it.”

He didn’t correct her, pulling his phone out of his pocket instead.

"You should head back inside." he told her.

"what about you?" she asked him.

He turned around and locked gaze with her, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Me.... Well I'm going to move the body and hope the dead can forgive me."

**************************************************

The walk back through the tunnels was silent, the weight of what she’d seen sinking into her bones like cold rain.

Inside the manor, the world resumed its normal rhythm as if nothing had changed. A fire crackled in the hearth. Distant footsteps echoed across marble. Life went on inside these walls, while the dead lay forgotten beneath them.

Bianca waited near the grand staircase, arms crossed, posture sharp.

“You’re late,” she said coolly to Rosy.

Rosy blinked, still dazed.

“Pardon?”

Bianca held out a red envelope. “This was found in on bed and I knew you couldn't possibly had left it there. . No one saw who did. ”

Rosy’s stomach dropped.

It matched the first one—the same blood-colored paper, the same eerie silence surrounding its arrival.

She snatched it from Bianca’s fingers, ignoring the pointed glare she received in return.

As she peeled it open, Sergio moved in from behind her, a shadow at her back.

Inside was another riddle:

I sleep beneath your gilded bed,

Where secrets live and cowards bled.

Dig too deep and you will find,

A truth to rot your precious mind.

Rosy’s fingers trembled.

Then something else slipped out of the envelope.

A torn photograph. Old. Faded.

It showed a child—small, maybe five—standing beside a man in a suit. The girl’s face had been scratched out violently. But the man’s cufflink… she recognized it immediately because it bore The De Luca crest.

Her knees gave out and she sat heavily on the step behind her.

She remembered this photo. It had been taken on her birthday though she had forgotten all it just as she forgot all about her past.

“This is me,” she murmured , staring at the photo still. “This is from my birthday.”

Sergio plucked the photo from her hand, studying it with narrowed eyes.

“Where did you get this again?”

“It was on my bed,” she replied. “Bianca found it and gave it to me just now.”

Sergio’s jaw tensed.

“Marco will trace it. Whoever’s playing games wants you scared or has some other ulterior motive. We’ll find them.”

But Rosana was barely listening.

Her mind was spinning. Someone out there knew the truth—her past, her bloodline, her identity—and they weren’t just watching.

They were involved.

**************************************************

That night, once the manor had settled into sleep, Rosy slipped quietly into the tunnel again.

She needed to go back.

Not to see the bones. But the truth beneath them.

Kneeling at the edge of the grave, she dug with her fingers until the skeleton Sergio had succeeded in burying was staring at her. Her fingers bumped something metallic, half-buried beneath a collapsed plank of wood.

She tugged gently, uncovering a small, rusty tin.

Her heartbeat spiked excitedly.

Inside, wrapped in what looked like satin, was a flash drive… and a folded note bearing yet another cryptic message:

Truth has teeth. Bite before it bites you.

—M.

She clutched it tightly, her hands shaking as she stood and hurried quietly back through the tunnels to her room.

**************************************************

When Sergio found her in the study half an hour later, she didn’t even glance up. The screen in front of her glowed faintly in the dark room.

He crossed the room slowly.

“What's that?”

Rosana didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

Sergio looked at the screen and cursed.

A flickering video.

A house in flames.

Children screaming. Smoke curling from shattered windows. Figures running in the chaos. Then—her. A little girl, no older than five, standing beside a woman—her mother—clutching her hands and sobbing.

The camera shook.

And then, through the smoke… a man stepped into view.

Young. Tall. Dressed in black.

Sergio. Or a more matured version of Sergio which didn't make sense to her.

He walked past the gates as the building burned behind him.

He never looked back and the screen went blank.

Rosana finally turned to look at him, her voice barely above a whisper and tears free falling from her eyes. “You lied to me.”

Sergio froze.

“You said you weren’t there. That you didn’t know how my family died.” Her voice rose, the betrayal dripping from each word. “But you were there. You saw it happen. You walked away.”

“I didn’t kill them,” he said.

“But you left them to die,” she replied, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Sergio ran a hand over his face, visibly shaken now. “That wasn't me in the video.”

“Don't you ever get tired of lying and making excuses? ” she spat. “You just chose power over people.”

“You don't know anything.” he said quietly.

Rosana shook her head, stepping back from him.

“Is that what this has all been about? You disrupted my wedding and kidnapped me, bringing me here so you could feel important and rub it in my face that you killed my family.”

Sergio didn’t speak.

“You let me believe I was nothing. Then you chained me to your side, gave me knives, maps, riddles... like I was a pawn in some twisted game.”

He finally stepped forward.

“You are simply here as payment for a debt owed to my family... You were never a pawn I chose.”

“Then what am I?” she asked bitterly.

He looked at her sadly.

“You're the queen that was never meant to rise.”

**************************************************

Suddenly, the manor’s alarm pierced the quiet.

A shrill, mechanical scream.

Red lights filled the corridors.

Sergio’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and answered after listening for a while.

“Where?”

Marco’s voice crackled through the speaker. “West wing breach. There’s a symbol carved into the wall.”

"Which family?" Sergio demanded angrily.

"De Rossi, sir. I think the groom finally grew some courage."

Rosana’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the man she had almost married. So he hadn't given up?

Without hesitation, she moved towards the weapons cabinet in the study, pulling open a drawer and retrieving the same pistol Sergio had once dared her to use.

He watched her silently, taking in her steady hands and cold resolve.

She checked the chamber and smiled. So he had given her a loaded gun back then.

She turned to him.

“Let him come,” she said.

Her father’s blood ran hot now within her even she was not entirely convinced that she was really the same blood as Antonio De Luca.

Her grip was unshakable.

The hunted girl was gone.