The staircase behind the bust of Caesar spiraled down into the earth, narrow and steep. The air grew colder with every step, smelling of damp stone, old paper, and the sharp, metallic tang of gun oil.I followed Lorenzo, my hand brushing against the rough brick walls. The electric lights overhead were dim, flickering slightly, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to whisper of the past."My father didn't just build a house," Lorenzo said, his voice echoing in the tight space. "He built a bunker. He knew that no matter how many ribbons he cut or how many charities he funded, the past would always try to claw its way back in.""He was a paranoid man," Lucrezia said from behind me. "But as it turns out, he was right."We reached the bottom. Lorenzo hit a heavy iron switch on the wall.Clank. Buzz.Banks of fluorescent lights flickered on, revealing a cavernous room that looked like a war room from a different century.
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