Chapter 22: The Last Moretti

Swiss Alps

Three Months Later

Summer had arrived in the mountains.

Elena sat in the small garden of the apartment, an open book on her lap that she hadn't read in an hour. Her eyes followed little Matteo, the youngest, who was learning while playing with a dog they had adopted two months earlier.

A German Shepherd named Bruno.

The boy laughed. He laughed genuinely.

Dante appeared beside her, two cups of coffee in his hands. He sat in the chair next to her without saying a word, offering her a cup.

Elena accepted. "Look at him."

Dante obeyed. "He's fine."

"Yes." Elena smiled. "He's fine."

They had enjoyed three months of peace. Three months without threatening calls, without envelopes of roses, without ghosts from the past. Marco and Luca were in South America, building something new with the money they had managed to salvage from the disaster. Alessia wrote articles in Barcelona about women, about justice, about second chances.

And they were here. In the Alps. With a dog and a child and a life they hadn't planned but loved with every fiber of their being.

Dante's phone rang.

He looked at it. Unknown.

He answered. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was old, tired, but unmistakable.

"It's Ferrara."

Dante tensed. Elena noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to come. You and Elena. It's urgent." Pause. "It's about Enzo."

Dante felt his heart freeze. "Enzo? But he disappeared. When we handed over the documents..."

"He showed up." Ferrara's voice trembled. "Last night. At my house. He wanted to know where you were. He wanted to know everything."

"And what did you say to him?"

"Nothing. But it wasn't necessary." Another pause. "He has Salvatore's eyes, Dante. The same eyes. When he looked at me, I saw your uncle. I saw death."

Dante gripped the phone. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. But he's looking for you. For you, for Elena, for the boy." Ferrara's voice broke. "He said the Morettis don't end. That there's always one more. That he's that one."

The call ended.

Dante stood motionless, phone in hand, staring blankly.

Elena touched him. "What's wrong?"

Dante hesitated before answering. When he did, his voice was a whisper.

"Enzo. The brother we never knew. He's alive. And he's looking for us."

Two days later

The apartment was ready for departure.

Suitcases, documents, money. The boy held Bruno on a leash, not fully understanding, but sensing the adults' fear.

"I don't understand," Matteo said. "Why do we have to leave?"

Elena knelt in front of him. "Because there's a bad man who wants to hurt us. And we have to be safe until the danger passes."

"Like when I was bad?"

Elena felt a knife in her chest. "You were never bad, Matteo. You're confused. This is different."

The boy stared at her. Then he nodded.

"Okay. Where are we going?"

Dante answered from the doorway. "To Italy. To face him."

Elena turned back. "Are you crazy? Italy is the first thing I'll..."

"It's the last thing he'd expect." Dante looked at her. "Ferrara is waiting for us. He has a plan. And besides..." He hesitated. "It's our home. We can't run away forever."

Elena wanted to argue. But she knew he was right.

The past always comes back.

Better to face it now.

Palermo, Sicily

Two days later

Ferrara's house was a fortress.

High walls, electrified fences, armed guards. The old capo didn't trust anyone, and with good reason.

He received them in an interior room, without windows, with only one door. On the table, coffee and cookies. And a pistol.

"Sit down." He gestured to the chairs. "The boy can go to the garden with my grandchildren. They'll be safe."

Elena hesitated, but Matteo was already running toward the door, Bruno behind him.

Ferrara waited until the door closed. Then he said,

"Enzo contacted me because he wants a deal. He wants to meet with you, face to face. And he wants me to be the mediator."

Dante shook his head. "It's a trap."

"Probably." Ferrara nodded. "But it's also an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"To end this. Once and for all." The old man looked at them intently. "Enzo isn't like Salvatore. He's smarter, more patient, more dangerous. But he also has a weakness."

"What is it?"

"He wants recognition. He wants to be accepted as Moretti. He wants the name, the history, the legitimacy." Ferrara smiled bitterly. "And you're the only ones who can give it to him."

Elena understood. "He wants us to accept him as a brother."

"Yes. And if you do, perhaps we can negotiate. If not..." Ferrara shrugged. "War. And we all know how wars end."

Dante looked at Elena. She barely nodded.

"Where and when?" Dante asked.

"Tomorrow. At Villa Isabella." Ferrara stood up. "He says he wants to see his father's house. The place where it all began."

Villa Isabella, Montes Sabinos

24 hours later

The villa was the same as always.

The same stone facade, the same cypress trees, the same deathly silence. But this time, a man he had never seen before waited at the gate.

Dark-haired, tall, thin. Gray eyes like Salvatore's. The same jawline, the same cold smile.

Enzo Moretti.

Dante got out of the car first. Elena, behind him, with the child in her arms, had insisted on coming, and no one had been able to refuse.

Enzo looked at them for a long time. Then he said,

"Little brother." His voice was soft, almost gentle. "How long has it been?"

"We don't know each other."

"But we should." Enzo took a step forward. "We share the same blood. The same father. The same name."

Dante didn't move. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted." Enzo smiled. "My place. My heritage. My family."

The boy's hand squeezed Elena's.

She felt fear.

And her own fear, too.

Enzo invited them inside.

Inside, the table was set for four.

And on it, a vase of black roses.

"Welcome home," he said.

And the door closed behind them.