Chapter 3

My attorney, Marta, had arrived with the police.

After learning what had happened to me, she trembled with anger and stepped directly in front of me.

“Aurelio! She is your own daughter! No matter how much the Family’s interests mean to you, you have no right to hold her here against her will. If you truly hate her that much, why won’t you let her leave?”

After hearing Marta’s accusation, the lead officer’s voice hardened.

He demanded to know what shameful secret my father was hiding inside the underground chapel.

My father didn’t answer. He merely gave a cold laugh.

“You want the answer? Then come inside with me.”

“Don’t go!” Marta shouted. “This has to be a trap!”

My father slowly rose to his feet.

“A trap? Officers, if you want to know what is inside, then come and see the chapel for yourselves. No one is allowed near it without permission. But since you insist on investigating, I’ll make an exception.”

He paused.

“Only two of you may enter.”

I scrambled toward the lead officer and clutched desperately at his trouser leg.

“Don’t go in! Please! Everyone who has walked through that door has come back wanting to kill me. There is something wrong in there!”

The lead officer looked down at me, and I caught a trace of sympathy in his eyes.

He gently pried my hands away.

“Don’t worry. We believe in evidence and what we can verify with our own eyes. We’ll do everything we can to help you.”

The lead officer chose a younger policeman, and together they followed my father into the underground chapel.

Ten minutes later, the two officers emerged one after the other.

The lead officer’s gaze swept over me.

Without warning, he strode forward and slapped me hard across the face.

It happened so quickly that I had no chance to dodge.

The younger officer followed behind him, his eyes filled with barely restrained hostility.

Marta rushed forward and shoved them away.

“Stop! You’re police officers. How can you hit her?”

The lead officer didn’t answer. He simply leaned down and whispered two sentences into her ear.

Marta’s expression froze.

She slowly backed away from me, her eyes filling with revulsion. Even her voice shook with it.

“I misjudged you. Leah, you filed a false police report and obstructed an investigation. Expect a court summons.”

“Marta!” I screamed after her.

She didn’t look back.

She hurried out of the estate as though she were fleeing from something.

The lead officer glared at me.

“We’re done here. Don’t call us back over another ridiculous false report, or you’ll be charged with obstruction.”

With that, the last bit of hope I had left disappeared.

That night, my father ordered his men to drag me into an abandoned stable in one of the estate’s side courtyards.

For three days, I was given nothing but moldy bread and filthy water.

My wounds festered, and I burned with fever until I thought I might die in there.

On the morning of the fourth day, the rusted iron door slowly opened.

An elderly woman in a long black dress stood outside.

Her silver hair was neatly arranged, and her gaze was calm. She carried the kind of quiet authority that inspired fear without requiring her to raise her voice.

She was the widow of the former Moretti Don and the only person who had ever dared to openly stand against my father.

My grandmother.

She stared at me in silence for a long time.

Then she finally spoke.

“Leah, you survived long enough for me to finally reach you.”