Chapter 6

Lorenzo read the sentence again.

Then again.

As if the words would change if he stared at them long enough.

The person closest to me is the person I fear most.

His father’s handwriting.

His father’s warning.

A warning that had been hidden for years.

And somehow, Lorenzo had never known.

Alessia watched him carefully.

She had seen Lorenzo angry.

She had seen him cold.

She had seen him confident even when everything around him was falling apart.

But she had never seen him look betrayed.

Not like this.

“Your father knew.”

Her voice was quiet.

Lorenzo folded the paper slowly.

“Apparently.”

“He knew someone close to him was dangerous.”

A pause.

“And he still kept it secret.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised her.

Because this was not anger toward his father.

It was disappointment.

Marco stood silently across from them.

For once, he did not have an explanation.

No carefully prepared answer.

No attempt to control the situation.

Only silence.

Lorenzo noticed.

“You knew about this letter.”

Marco looked at him.

“Yes.”

The honesty made the room colder.

“And you never gave it to me?”

“I was instructed not to.”

“By my father?”

Marco nodded.

Lorenzo laughed once.

Not because anything was funny.

Because the situation had become impossible.

“Everyone keeps saying they were following instructions.”

His eyes hardened.

“But nobody thinks about what those choices did to the people left behind.”

Alessia felt the weight of his words.

Because she understood.

She had spent six years believing she was the only person who had suffered.

But Lorenzo had been carrying his own pain.

Just differently.

“We need to find the vault.”

The statement came from Alessia.

Both men looked at her.

She met their eyes.

“The original document is there. If we find it, we find the truth.”

Lorenzo nodded.

She was right.

For the first time, the truth was not just about their families.

It was about finally ending the cycle.

The Moretti family vault was located beneath the oldest section of the Moretti estate.

A place few people even knew existed.

It was not mentioned in company records.

It was not shown to visitors.

It was where generations of the Moretti family stored their most valuable possessions.

Documents.

Jewelry.

Historical records.

Secrets.

Getting inside was not difficult for Lorenzo.

That was what frightened Alessia.

The security recognized him immediately.

The system opened because he belonged there.

Because his family had trusted him.

Because he was part of the very legacy they were investigating.

The underground chamber was colder than Alessia expected.

Stone walls surrounded them.

Rows of locked cabinets lined the room.

Lorenzo walked slowly.

“This place hasn’t changed.”

She looked at him.

“You’ve been here before?”

“When I was a child.”

A pause.

“My father used to bring me here.”

“Why?”

Lorenzo touched one of the old cabinets.

“He said a family is only as strong as what it remembers.”

Alessia looked around.

“And now?”

His expression darkened.

“Now I wonder what he was afraid I would remember.”

They searched through records for almost an hour.

Nothing.

No agreement.

No document.

No clue.

Until Alessia noticed something.

A painting on the wall.

An old painting of Grand Hotel Vittoria.

She stepped closer.

“Wait.”

Lorenzo joined her.

“What?”

“The painting.”

She pointed.

“The foundation.”

He looked carefully.

Hidden beneath the image was the same symbol.

Her father’s symbol.

They removed the painting.

Behind it was a small compartment.

Inside was a metal box.

Lorenzo opened it.

His hands became still.

Because inside was not just a document.

There was a letter.

Addressed to him.

To Lorenzo Moretti.

The words made his chest tighten.

His father had written directly to him.

Not the family.

Not the company.

Him.

He opened it.

My son,

If you are reading this, then you have discovered what I tried to hide.

I owe you the truth.

Lorenzo stopped.

His eyes moved across the page.

Then his expression changed.

Alessia noticed.

“What does it say?”

He did not answer immediately.

Finally, he handed her the letter.

She read.

And felt her own heart drop.

The person who betrayed us was not born into the Moretti family.

They entered it.

Alessia looked up.

A person who entered the family.

Not a Moretti.

Not a Conti.

Someone who had gained trust.

Someone who had influence.

Someone who had access.

Then she saw the next line.

And everything became clear.

I trusted him because I believed he loved this family.

A name was written beneath.

A name they already knew.

Alessia whispered:

“Marco.”

The room became silent.

But before anyone could react, a sound echoed from the entrance.

The vault door closing.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

They turned.

Someone was standing there.

A familiar si

lhouette.

A familiar voice.

“I was hoping you would never find this place.”

Lorenzo’s face changed.

“Father?”

But it wasn’t Matteo.

The person stepped into the light.

And Alessia realized the truth.

They were not alone in the vault.

Someone had followed them.

Someone who knew they would come.

Someone who had been waiting.