Chapter 7: The Last Call From Home

The world did not stop.

That was the first thing Zara noticed.

The clock kept ticking.

Rain began tapping softly against the windows.

Somewhere in the estate, distant laughter still drifted from the reception hall.

And yet, with four words, everything inside her had shifted.

Your father is missing.

Adrian ended the call slowly.

Zara stared at him. “What did Matteo say?”

His silence lasted one second too long.

“Adrian.”

“He said your father left his apartment an hour ago and never arrived at the clinic where he was supposed to meet someone.”

The clinic.

Her father never went out at night unless it was important.

A cold pressure tightened around her ribs.

“I’m calling him.”

Her fingers shook as she unlocked her phone.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Voicemail.

She called again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Nothing.

The fear that had been circling her finally landed.

“He always answers me.”

Adrian watched her carefully. “When did you speak to him last?”

“This afternoon. Before the ceremony.”

“What did he say?”

Zara searched her memory.

Her father had sounded distracted, breathless, as if he were walking while talking.

‘If anything feels wrong tonight, come home first. Promise me that.’

At the time she had laughed.

She wasn’t laughing now.

“He told me to come home if something felt wrong.”

Adrian’s expression changed.

“What exactly did he say?”

She repeated the words.

A muscle in his jaw tightened.

“Did he explain why?”

“No.”

“Did he mention my family?”

“No.”

“Did he sound frightened?”

Zara opened her mouth to answer automatically, then stopped.

Yes.

He had.

Not panicked.

Not desperate.

But afraid in the careful, controlled way adults become when they are trying not to scare someone they love.

The realization hit her hard.

“He knew something,” she whispered.

Adrian looked toward the door, thinking.

Not reacting.

Thinking.

It was the first time she had seen him move like a man trained to anticipate danger.

“We need to leave the estate,” he said.

Zara blinked. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother told me not to leave.”

“And Matteo told me not to let you leave the study.”

“Those are opposite instructions.”

“Exactly.”

The answer sent a chill through her.

Adrian crossed to the desk and picked up the photograph and the letter, slipping both into a leather folder.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure these don’t disappear.”

The implication was impossible to ignore.

“You think someone would destroy them?”

“I think too many people already know they exist.”

A knock sounded at the door.

Three precise taps.

Adrian went completely still.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Mrs. Moretti requested that Mrs. Moretti join the family toast.”

The maid’s voice was calm.

Too calm.

Adrian waited until her footsteps faded.

Then he lowered his voice. “We’re not going through the reception.”

Zara’s pulse quickened. “Why are you acting like we’re escaping?”

He met her eyes.

“Because I don’t know whether we are.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The rain outside grew heavier.

Adrian moved to a bookshelf and pressed something hidden beneath the bottom shelf.

A soft click echoed through the room.

Zara stared as part of the wood panel shifted inward.

A narrow passage opened behind it.

“What is this?”

“My grandfather built it during the political unrest in the seventies.”

“You have a secret passage in your house?”

“In my family, secrecy is considered architecture.”

Despite everything, a startled breath almost escaped her.

Adrian took a flashlight from a drawer and stepped into the passage.

Then he looked back at her.

“Zara, if you come with me, I need you to understand something.”

“What?”

“I may not be able to tell you the truth yet.”

Frustration flared. “You keep saying that.”

“But I can promise you this: I will not hand you over to anyone.”

The words were quiet.

Certain.

And dangerously sincere.

Zara searched his face for manipulation.

Found none.

That frightened her more than if she had.

She stepped into the passage.

The panel closed behind them.

Darkness swallowed the study.

The tunnel smelled of stone and dust. Their footsteps echoed softly as they descended a narrow staircase.

After several seconds, Zara spoke.

“What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t hand me over?”

Adrian kept walking.

“When my mother decides something is necessary, she rarely asks for permission.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

He stopped.

The flashlight cast sharp shadows across his face.

“I don’t know whether this is about your father, the woman in the photograph, or something else entirely.”

“Something else?”

He hesitated.

Then, quietly:

“There was another file in the ledger.”

Zara’s stomach tightened.

“What file?”

He looked at her for a long moment.

“Mine.”

A silence followed.

Then he continued walking.

“The entry was dated the day I was born.”

The tunnel suddenly felt colder.

“Adrian…”

“I told you I found the photograph three months ago. I didn’t tell you what was written beside it.”

Zara waited.

His voice came from the darkness ahead of her.

‘Child transferred. Records sealed.’

She stopped walking.

Transferred.

Records sealed.

The words echoed through her mind with terrifying clarity.

“Are you saying…”

“I’m saying I no longer know if the Moretti family has been lying only to you.”

The flashlight beam trembled slightly in his hand for the first time.

Not from fear.

From anger.

Deep, controlled anger.

Before Zara could speak again, his phone vibrated.

He checked the screen and answered immediately.

“Matteo?”

Static crackled through the line.

Then a strained voice:

“Where are you?”

“In the lower passage.”

A sharp intake of breath.

“Listen to me carefully. Someone accessed the old records tonight.”

Adrian’s expression hardened.

“Who?”

Another burst of static.

Then:

“Your mother wasn’t the first person to reopen Zara’s file.”

Zara felt the blood drain from her face.

Adrian stopped walking.

“Who was?”

The line went silent for a second.

When Matteo spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Your father.”

And the call disconnected.