Chapter Four: Bloodlines and Betrayals

The morning sun filtered through the olive trees surrounding Bianca’s villa, casting long shadows across the stone courtyard. Birds chirped in the distance, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Inside, Amaro paced the study, the ledgers spread across the desk like a map of corruption. Bianca sat nearby, her reading glasses perched on her nose, flipping through pages with surgical precision.

“This is enough to bury Salvatore,” she said. “But we need more than documents. We need a voice. A witness.”

Lucia stood by the window, arms crossed, her face pale. “There’s someone who knows everything. Someone who was there from the beginning.”

Bianca looked up. “Who?”

Lucia hesitated. “My mother.”

Amaro turned sharply. “You said she was dead.”

“She is,” Lucia said quietly. “But before she died, she recorded something. A confession. She hid it in the estate.”

Bianca leaned forward. “Where?”

“In her old dressing room. Behind the mirror. I saw her hide it when I was a child.”

Amaro’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Lucia looked at him, guilt in her eyes. “Because I wasn’t sure it was real. I thought maybe I imagined it. But now… I know it’s there.”

Bianca stood. “Then we go back.”

Amaro shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Falco’s watching us.”

Bianca smirked. “Let him watch. I’ve dealt with worse than Falco.”

Lucia stepped forward. “I’ll go alone. I know the estate better than anyone.”

Amaro grabbed her arm. “Absolutely not.”

Lucia met his gaze. “You said we’d fight together. This is my fight.”

Amaro clenched his jaw. “Then we go together.”

—

That night, under the cover of darkness, they returned to the Moretti estate. Bianca stayed behind to coordinate the leak of the ledgers, while Amaro and Lucia slipped through the vineyard, avoiding the guards.

Inside the manor, the air was thick with silence. Lucia led Amaro through the halls, past portraits of ancestors who had ruled with iron fists and cold hearts.

They reached the dressing room.

Lucia approached the mirror and pressed a hidden latch. The glass slid aside, revealing a small compartment.

Inside was a cassette tape, wrapped in silk.

She held it in trembling hands. “This is it.”

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Amaro drew his pistol. “Hide.”

Lucia ducked behind the armoire as the door burst open.

Falco entered, flanked by two armed men.

“Well, well,” he said, smiling. “I was wondering when you’d come back.”

Amaro stepped forward, gun raised. “Move.”

Falco laughed. “You won’t shoot me. You’re too noble.”

Amaro fired.

The bullet grazed Falco’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back.

Lucia ran, clutching the tape.

Amaro followed, firing at the guards.

They escaped through the servant’s corridor, dodging bullets and shouts. Outside, they sprinted to the car and sped away into the night.

—

Back at the villa, Bianca examined the tape.

“It’s old,” she said. “But I have a player.”

She inserted the cassette and pressed play.

A woman’s voice filled the room—soft, trembling, but clear.

“My name is Elena Moretti. I was forced to marry Salvatore to preserve the bloodline. I never loved him. I loved another. His name was Matteo De Luca.”

Amaro froze.

Lucia’s eyes widened. “Matteo?”

Bianca looked at Amaro. “Your uncle.”

The tape continued.

“We had a child. A daughter. But Salvatore claimed her as his own. He threatened to kill Matteo if I ever told the truth.”

Lucia’s knees buckled.

Amaro caught her. “Lucia…”

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not a Moretti.”

Bianca sat back, stunned. “You’re a De Luca.”

Lucia shook her head. “That’s why he kept me close. Why he never let me leave. I was leverage.”

Amaro held her tightly. “You’re free now.”

But Bianca’s face darkened. “This changes everything. If Salvatore finds out we know…”

“He’ll kill us,” Amaro said.

Lucia wiped her tears. “Then we strike first.”

—

The next morning, Bianca leaked the tape to the press. Within hours, headlines exploded across Italy.

“Mafia Heiress Revealed as Secret De Luca Descendant”

“Don Salvatore’s Legacy Crumbles Amid Scandal”

Salvatore went into hiding. His allies turned. His empire fractured.

But Falco wasn’t finished.

—

That night, as Amaro and Lucia sat in the garden, a car pulled into the villa.

Bianca stepped outside, pistol drawn.

Falco emerged, hands raised.

“I’m not here to fight,” he said.

Bianca didn’t lower the gun. “Then speak fast.”

Falco looked at Amaro. “I was loyal once. But Salvatore betrayed me. He promised me power, then discarded me.”

Amaro stepped forward. “Why are you here?”

Falco reached into his coat and pulled out a flash drive.

“This has everything. Bank accounts. Safe houses. Names. It’s the final nail.”

Lucia narrowed her eyes. “Why give it to us?”

Falco looked at her. “Because you’re the future. Not him.”

Bianca took the drive. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not,” Falco said. “But I want protection. Immunity.”

Amaro nodded. “We’ll talk to the prosecutors.”

Falco turned to leave, then paused.

“There’s one more thing,” he said. “Salvatore has a son. Hidden. Raised in Sicily. He’s coming.”

Lucia’s blood ran cold. “What’s his name?”

Falco looked at her.

“Alessandro.”

—

As the car disappeared into the night, Amaro turned to Lucia.

“Another heir.”

Lucia nodded. “Another war.”

Amaro took her hand. “Then we fight. Together.”

But in the shadows of Sicily, Alessandro Moretti was already moving.

And he wasn’t coming to negotiate.