Chapter Four: Ashes of Yesterday

Rain tapped gently against the stained-glass windows of St. Michael's Cathedral.

The last worshipper had left nearly ten minutes ago, yet Father Gabriel remained seated in the front pew. His fingers rolled a wooden rosary between them while his eyes rested on the crucifix above the altar.

The heavy doors creaked open.

"You wanted to see me."

Father Gabriel looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly.

"Thank you for coming, Vittorio."

Don Vittorio Romano walked down the aisle with measured steps, removing his leather gloves before sitting beside the old priest.

"I had to cancel two meetings."

"I suppose I've become expensive."

Vittorio chuckled.

"You always were."

Silence settled between them.

The kind that only existed between people who had known each other for decades.

Father Gabriel finally spoke.

"Do you ever think about him?"

Vittorio didn't need to ask who he meant.

"Every day."

The priest nodded.

"I thought so."

Vittorio rested both hands on his cane.

"Some days I hate him."

"And the other days?"

"...I miss my brother."

Father Gabriel looked at him.

"You still call him that."

"I always will."

The confession surprised even Vittorio himself.

He let out a slow breath.

"We built everything together."

"I remember."

"We started with one shipping company."

"And ended with half the ports in Europe."

Vittorio smiled faintly.

"Marco always said we worked too hard."

"He also said you smiled too little."

"He wasn't wrong."

A laugh escaped both men before the mood grew quiet again.

"I still don't understand what happened that night," Vittorio murmured.

Father Gabriel looked toward the altar.

"Neither do I."

Twenty-five years earlier...

The Romano estate overflowed with laughter.

Children ran through the gardens while servants hurried between long banquet tables filled with food.

Music drifted from a string quartet beneath a white pavilion.

Don Marco Moretti lifted his wine glass.

"Another successful year."

Vittorio Romano clinked his glass against Marco's.

"To partnership."

Marco laughed.

"No."

"To brotherhood."

Around them, applause erupted.

Their wives exchanged amused looks.

"You two are impossible," Isabella Romano teased.

Lucia Moretti smiled.

"If these two ever stop arguing, I'll assume something is wrong."

Marco grinned.

"See?"

"They know me."

"They tolerate you," Vittorio corrected.

More laughter followed.

Near the fountain, young Matteo chased Bianca Romano through the gardens.

"You cheated!"

"I did not!"

"You started running before I counted!"

Bianca stuck out her tongue.

"Then catch me!"

A tiny Sofia sat beneath a tree, carefully arranging flowers she'd picked from the garden.

Marco noticed and walked over.

"What are you making?"

"A crown."

"For who?"

She looked up with innocent eyes.

"You."

He crouched beside her.

"I'm already a king."

She shook her head.

"Kings wear crowns."

Marco laughed before placing the flower crown on his own head.

"How do I look?"

Sofia giggled.

"Funny."

Vittorio walked over carrying Alessandro, who couldn't have been older than four.

"Look who's asleep."

Marco smiled.

"My future business partner."

"Our children will inherit everything."

Marco extended his hand.

"They'll never know war."

Vittorio clasped it firmly.

"They'll grow up as one family."

Not far away, Lorenzo De Santis watched the handshake.

His face remained unreadable.

One of his associates stepped beside him.

"They trust each other completely."

Lorenzo's lips curved into the faintest smile.

"That's why they'll fall so easily."

The memory faded.

Back in the cathedral, Vittorio rubbed his temples.

"I keep wondering..."

He stopped.

"What?"

"What if I'd insisted he stay home that night?"

"You couldn't have known."

"I should have."

Father Gabriel gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Guilt has a way of rewriting the past."

Vittorio stared ahead.

"I buried my best friend without a funeral."

Across the city...

The Moretti estate echoed with the sound of fists striking leather.

Matteo landed another punch against the heavy bag.

His trainer nodded approvingly.

"Again."

Matteo struck harder.

The chains rattled violently.

"Again."

Another punch.

His breathing grew heavier.

"Enough."

Matteo grabbed a towel.

"I can keep going."

"I know."

"Then why stop?"

"Because you're angry."

"I should be."

"Anger clouds judgment."

Matteo threw the towel over his shoulder.

"Judgment doesn't win wars."

"No."

The trainer met his eyes.

"But it keeps you alive."

A maid appeared at the doorway.

"Mr. Matteo."

He turned.

"Your mother is waiting."

Elena Moretti stood inside the library, flipping through an old photo album.

Matteo entered quietly.

"You wanted to see me?"

She nodded toward the chair opposite her.

"Sit."

He obeyed.

She slid a photograph across the desk.

Two smiling men stood shoulder to shoulder.

Marco Moretti.

Vittorio Romano.

Matteo frowned.

"They looked happy."

"They were."

"They really trusted each other?"

Elena smiled sadly.

"More than brothers."

Matteo stared at the photograph.

"So what changed?"

"I don't know."

"You've always said Vittorio killed Father."

"I said that's what the evidence showed."

"And now?"

She looked toward the rain outside.

"Sometimes..."

She hesitated.

"...I wonder whether someone wanted us to believe it."

Matteo looked up.

"You've never said that before."

"I've never allowed myself to think it."

Silence filled the room.

"If your father were alive..."

Her voice cracked.

"...he would've found his way back to us."

Matteo reached across the table and gently covered her hand with his.

"We'll find the truth."

She managed a weak smile.

"I hope so."

Miles away...

Lorenzo De Santis stood in his penthouse office overlooking the city.

The skyline shimmered beneath the evening lights.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

His assistant entered carrying a black folder.

"Our surveillance reports."

Lorenzo accepted it without looking away from the window.

"Anything interesting?"

"The Romano heir attended another board meeting."

"Hm."

"The Moretti heiress spent the afternoon at her foundation."

He nodded.

"What else?"

"The charity gala is three days away."

"And?"

"Both families confirmed attendance."

Lorenzo finally turned.

"Excellent."

His assistant hesitated.

"Should we interfere?"

Lorenzo smiled.

"No."

"They're bound to meet."

"I know."

"What if they become close?"

Lorenzo walked back toward his desk.

He opened the folder.

Inside were photographs of Alessandro Romano and Sofia Moretti taken separately over the past few weeks.

He placed both pictures side by side.

"They've inherited their fathers' faces."

His assistant remained silent.

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair.

"Hatred is predictable."

He tapped Alessandro's photograph.

"But love..."

His finger moved to Sofia's.

"...makes people careless."

He closed the folder.

"Let them meet."

"And afterward?"

Lorenzo's smile slowly widened.

"I'll make sure they regret ever learning each other's names."

Outside, lightning streaked across the dark sky, illuminating the city for a brief moment before darkness swallowed it once more. Neither Alessandro nor Sofia knew that while fate was preparing to bring them together, someone else had already begun planning how to tear them apart.