บททั้งหมดของ SHADOWS OF OBLIVION : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The cemetery is on a hill just outside the city, rows of gray stone under a sky that can't decide if it wants to rain.Wind pushes through the grass in long waves.A few bare trees stand near the edge of the hill, branches knocking together every time the wind picks up.Elena's never been here. She's sure of that much, at least.But her feet know where to go anyway, and she finds herself walking past name after name until she stops in front of one.Matteo Rossi. Beloved Father. Beloved Husband.The carving's worn soft at the edges. Someone's left flowers at the base — white ones, still fresh. Sofia, probably.She stands there for a while, not doing much of anything.Just breathing, mostly, while the wind pulls her hair across her face and she doesn't bother fixing it.Dante hangs back a few feet, hands in his pockets, letting her have this. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to."I don't remember your voice," she says, quiet, to the stone. "I've tried. Some nights I just lie the

The journal sits on Marco's desk for three days before anyone can make sense of half of what is written in it. The leather is worn, the pages yellowed with age, the handwriting sometimes too faint to read.Elena keeps coming back to look at it anyway, like the answers might finally show up if she stares hard enough.She sits in the chair beside Marco's desk, her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes move across the pages, searching for something she has missed.The ink blurs in places. The dates jump around. But every time she looks, she sees the same words. Victor. Foundation. Money. Proof. If anything happens to me."There's a page missing," Marco says, flipping through it again, frowning. He holds the journal up to the light, examining the spine. "Right here. See the edge? Torn out clean."Elena leans over his shoulder. Her stomach tightens.She can see the ragged edge where the paper was ripped, not cut, but torn quickly, roughly. "What was on it?""No way t

Sofia sees the ring before Elena even says a word. She grabs her cousin's hand across the kitchen table, nearly knocking over her coffee in the process."Oh my god." Her voice climbs about an octave. "Oh my god, Elena.""Careful, you're going to spill—""I don't care about the coffee." Sofia is already crying, laughing at the same time, the way she does everything, all in at once. "Tell me. Tell me right now."Elena cannot help smiling. Warmth spreads through her chest at the sight of her cousin this happy. "He took me to the garden. The real one. Then the church.""Shut up.""He had the ring the whole time. Ten years, Sofia. He kept it this whole time."Sofia presses both hands to her mouth. Tears spill freely now. "I need to sit down. I am sitting down. I need a minute.""You're already sitting.""I need another minute anyway." She wipes her eyes, laughing at herself. "This is the first good thing that has happened to this family in ten years. I need to actually feel it."Elena reac

Dante is in his study when Marco knocks, just once, then lets himself in without waiting for an answer, the way he's done a thousand times over the years they've known each other. Tonight, though, something about the way he stands in the doorway makes Dante set down the papers in his hand immediately."You look like you're about to tell me someone died," Dante says, only half joking."Nobody died." Marco steps inside and closes the door behind him, a small, deliberate click that makes the room feel smaller than it is. "I need to talk to you about something. And I need you to let me get through the whole thing before you say anything."Dante studies him a moment, something wary settling behind his eyes. "Alright. Sit down."Marco doesn't sit. He stands near the window instead, hands shoved in his pockets, looking out at the city like it might give him the courage to actually say what he came here to say."When I told you I recognized Elena at the club," he starts slowly, "I told you it

The name that comes back on the phone call isn't the one anyone wanted."A paralegal," Marco says, hanging up, dragging a hand down his face. "Low-level. Processed the transfer paperwork eighteen months ago because it came through with the right signatures, the right stamps.She had no idea whose money she was moving. Just followed orders from a partner who left the firm not long after.""Which partner?" Dante asks."Retired. Moved to Portugal two years back. Nobody's heard from him since." Marco shakes his head. "It's a dead end, Dante. A real one this time. Not a lie. She had no clue what she was part of."Elena lets out a breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders, though not all of it. "So it's not someone still inside the family. Not right now.""Not that we can prove." Marco's voice carries a warning under the relief. "But somebody set that transfer up on purpose, years back, and used our own people to do it without anyone noticing. That's still worth losing sleep over."