Chapter-39 Discovery (Part 1)

Gianna

I squinted as Nico turned the lights on and blinked. So this was Alessandro Baldocchi’s study, and it’s clearly been locked because the air was suffocating here. And musty. It looked old with all the dark wooden panelling and dark wood furniture, and heavy carpets.

“So what are we looking for?” I demanded, staring around.

“For info on these,” Nico shuffled in his pocket and pulled out an old coin engraved with some kind of weird symbol. There was a photograph too, and that same symbol was painted in red on the floor in that. It frankly looked ominous.

“What in hell is that?” I frowned.

“That’s what we need to find out,” he said, his jaw hardening as his dark eyes searched around. “The bastards left this as some kind of warning for us. We found it at the location of one of our destroyed shipments. I believe this could lead us to find out who exactly is behind these attacks.”

“And you think you might find something in your father’s belongings?” He gave me a nod.

“Since I don’t know what the fuck this is and neither does Leo or Xavier, there was no other option left,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’d rather die than step in here in any other circumstance.”

“Then we better start looking quickly,” I said, squeezing his hand. “What are we looking for?”

“Files, diaries…just anything,” he shrugged. “You take that side and I will take this. Don’t bother to be neat. Just be quick so we can get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Got it captain,” Nico shot me a look in response but I could see the slight hint of smile on his lips.

I took my designated section and started scouring through his desk and the shelves after shelves of files and books, having no idea what exactly I was looking for. And while I was being methodical and careful on the other side, Nico was just haphazardly shoving things around at lightning speed.

“You’re making a mess,” I grimaced, staring at the pile of papers and diaries lying on the floor.

"Neat won’t find whoever’s trying to kill us,” he threw me a look. “Find anything yet?”

“Nothing,” I said, scouring through a journal. “Your father sure did like to journal, which is very surprising. But there is a box full of journals here…”

“Probably gloating about his dark deeds. Bastard,” Nico hissed in response. “Keep looking. There has to be something.”

For the next half hour, both Nico and I kept searching from end to end of Alessandro’s study, which was now a perpetual mess, thanks to my husband, and yet there was nothing to be found. We both started sweating by the time we were done because somehow the air conditioning wasn’t working in this part of the house. And yet there was nothing to be found.

“Well…that was quite a waste,” I muttered, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

“There is clearly nothing here.” Nico’s eyes were dark with frustration, and he was panting hard as he stared around. His eyes were searching for something amidst the mess that was now Alessandro’s study.

“No,” Nico said, his eyes fixated on the bookshelf. “We aren’t done yet.” He stalked over to the bookshelf, and I didn’t see the point in that because we had already searched through it.

“You’ve already gone through that, Nico,” I said. He didn’t respond. Instead, he started shuffling through the shelf, scouring into the nook, god knows, looking for what.

“Nico, what are you doing?” I demanded impatiently. He closed his eyes briefly, still shuffling, before going still.

A few moments later, a whirring noise came from in between the shelf and my jaw dropped open as that bloody bookshelf split into two parts and then drifted apart to make space for some kind of door tucked way beyond into the wall.

“We aren’t done yet,” Nico said, moving back. I stared wide-eyed at the open pathway.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” I explained, my eyes wide. “What is that?”

“A secret room, I guess,” he shrugged. “Why do you look so surprised? Have you never seen one before?”

“Uh, no,” I said, still shocked. “Of course I haven’t.” Nico shot me a judgmental look as he stared at the keypad on the door.

“Leo and Xavier really did bury you deep into the earth,” he muttered under his breath, punching some random numbers. “Every mafia family has several of these secret rooms built in random places for safety. I wasn’t sure father had one in his study because he was goddamn secretive but guess my intuition was right.”

“What do you mean by built at random places?” I demanded. “Is there more than one?”

“We have one in our bedroom. It leads through one of the cabinets in our walk-in,” he said. My eyes widened in shock. What the fuck?

“What?” I exclaimed again. “And what is in there?”

“Arms…guns and all,” he shrugged like it was nothing while shooting a glare at the keypad. “Oh what the fuck is the passcode…”

“Maybe your birthday?” I offered.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “He didn’t even know when my birthday was, Gianna.” There was sarcasm in his words, but also grief and bitterness. “Maybe…” He typed four numbers on the keypad and let out a victorious hiss as the passcode was finally entered, and slowly the doors opened, revealing nothing but inky darkness inside.

Nico walked inside and then turned on a switch or something. A dingy bulb flickered to life, revealing a small room with shelves and cabinets built into the walls. It was so musty and dusty inside.

“Let’s start looking,” Nico said, stalking inside. I begrudgingly followed after him, my nose tingling with the dust.

I started checking the left wall while Nico took the right. The air was thick with dust and secrets, and every creak of the wooden floor beneath our feet sounded louder in this hidden tomb of a room.

There were weapons tucked into some of the cabinets—compact pistols, antique daggers, silencers, and boxes of ammunition lined with velvet like they were prized artifacts. But none of it felt relevant. We were looking for something else. I pulled open drawer after drawer, flipping through decaying folders marked with dates I couldn’t decipher. Some were written in code. Others contained surveillance pictures, financial records, shipping routes—typical mafia intel. But not what Nico was looking for.

“This room gives me the creeps,” I muttered, wiping my fingers against my jeans after touching something sticky.

Nico didn’t respond. He was focused, rifling through a set of metal drawers at the far end of the wall, breathing heavily with every new folder he tossed to the floor. Fifteen more minutes passed. Nothing.

I turned to the very last shelf in my corner. It looked untouched, stacked with brown file boxes. One of them had a small tear at the edge, like someone once tried to rip something from it.

Curious, I pulled it down. The box was heavier than it looked. I sat on the floor, flipped the top open. Inside, neatly stacked, were yellowing documents, typewritten pages, and several CDs. I scoured through the things, hoping I wouldn't get bitten by a snake or something because it frankly looked like another pile of garbage. A few minutes of sorting through it, and I was about to give up when something caught my eye. And I froze.

My heart spiked as I stared at the sheet of paper right at the top—an exact replica of the symbol Nico had shown me earlier, the strange one from the coin and the floor.

“Nico,” I called, my voice tight. “You need to see this.”