Chapter 4 - ELENA’S LAST RECORDING
By midnight, Enzo Rossi had disappeared.
His Manhattan apartment was empty.
His office was locked.
His driver claimed not to have seen him since morning.
His phone was dead.
Clara’s phone was found in a trash can three blocks from one of our warehouses.
No Clara.
No Enzo.
I wanted men on every street.
I wanted doors kicked open.
I wanted the city turned upside down.
Sophia stopped me.
Not with force.
With four words.
“This is what he wants.”
I looked at her.
She stood in the doorway of my study wearing a plain gray sweater, her dark hair pulled back, exhaustion carved beneath her eyes.
“What?”
“He wants you angry.”
“My daughter was drugged.”
“I know.”
“My wife was murdered.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me not to be angry?”
“I’m telling you not to become predictable.”
I stared at her.
No employee had ever spoken to me that way.
Sophia continued.
“My mother said that was Elena’s greatest fear.”
“What was?”
“That if something happened to her, you would burn everything around you before you stopped long enough to ask who handed you the match.”
The words landed hard.
After Elena died, I destroyed the Moretti family.
I never asked who had provided their men with our route.
I never asked why they knew Elena would be in my car that night instead of me.
I never asked who had changed my schedule at the last minute.
Enzo had handled all of it.
I looked at Sophia.
“What else did your mother leave?”
She hesitated.
Then reached beneath her sweater.
A thin chain hung around her neck.
At the end was another key.
“Emma had the silver key. You have this one.”
“No.”
She unclasped it.
“This belonged to Elena.”
The key was brass.
Old.
“What does it open?”
“My mother never knew.”
“Then why keep it?”
“Because Elena told her the silver key and brass key had to be used together.”
“Where?”
Sophia looked toward the hallway.
“In the chapel.”
My estate contained a small stone chapel built by my grandfather in 1949.
No priest had regularly used it in decades.
Elena loved it.
She went there when she wanted quiet.
I hadn’t entered since her funeral.
At one in the morning, Sophia, Dante, and I walked through the snow toward the old chapel.
Emma and Isabella remained inside under guard.
The chapel smelled of dust and cedar.
Moonlight filtered through stained glass.
Sophia approached the altar.
“My mother said Elena used to sit in the third pew.”
I looked.
Third pew.
Left side.
There were scratches beneath the wooden prayer rail.
Two tiny keyholes.
One silver.
One brass.
My heartbeat changed.
Sophia inserted her key.
I used Emma’s.
We turned them together.
A hidden panel beneath the pew opened.
Inside sat a black leather box.
My hands trembled when I touched it.
Elena’s initials were pressed into the top.
E.R.
I opened it.
Three things rested inside.
A flash drive.
A handwritten letter.
And a voice recorder.
I pressed play.
Static filled the chapel.
Then Elena spoke.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Marco.”
Her voice.
Three years gone.
Yet suddenly she was beside me again.
“If you’re hearing this, then something happened before I could tell you the truth.”
Sophia looked away.
I couldn’t.
“I need you to listen without anger. Please. If you loved me, listen before you act.”
Even dead, Elena knew me.
“I found financial records connected to Rossi Maritime. Payments were being routed through companies tied to the Morettis.”
Dante stiffened.
“I thought it was corruption at first. Then Matteo Rossi showed me something worse.”
Sophia gasped.
Her husband.
“Shipping schedules. Private routes. Family movements.”
My skin went cold.
“Someone has been selling information about us.”
Elena paused.
“I don’t know who. Matteo suspects someone senior. Someone close enough to know everything.”
The recording crackled.
Then Elena continued.
“I told Rosa because she is the only person I trust outside the family.”
I looked at Sophia.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
“If something happens to me, protect Isabella. And protect Sophia.”
Sophia made a sound.
A broken inhale.
Then Elena said something I never expected.
“Marco, there is another truth you deserve to know.”
The chapel seemed to shrink around me.
“Sophia is my sister.”
I looked at her.
She shook her head as though hearing it spoken aloud still hurt.
“Our father had another daughter before he married my mother. Rosa raised Sophia alone. I learned the truth when I was nineteen.”
I stared at Sophia.
Elena’s sister.
The woman cleaning my house.
The woman whose little girl had made Isabella’s foot move.
Family.
Elena continued.
“Sophia doesn’t want anything from us. Neither does Rosa. But if I die, I want Isabella to know them. She deserves family that exists outside power and fear.”
My chest tightened.
Sophia whispered, “She never got the chance to tell you.”
The recording continued.
Then Elena’s tone changed.
“There’s something else.”
Paper rustled.
“Someone has been asking questions about Isabella’s trust.”
I looked at Dante.
“What trust?”
He shook his head.
Elena answered from the recorder.
“My father created a trust for Isabella when she was born. Marco knows about the inheritance, but he doesn’t know the controlling clause. If both parents die, or if Marco becomes legally incapacitated, control passes temporarily to the senior Rossi trustee.”
Dante whispered, “Enzo.”
My stomach dropped.
Elena continued.
“I changed it.”
I leaned closer.
“I removed Enzo.”
Sophia stared at the recorder.
“I named an independent trustee and sealed the amendment with my attorney.”
Hope flickered.
Then Elena’s voice became frightened.
“Someone learned I changed it.”
A long pause.
“If the person behind the money believes the old documents are still valid, they may think hurting me—or Marco—or Isabella—gives them control.”
The recording ended.
Silence filled the chapel.
Everything I believed about Elena’s murder changed in less than seven minutes.
The Morettis had attacked us.
But perhaps someone inside my own family had sent them.
Someone who expected me to retaliate.
Someone who wanted the Morettis erased afterward.
Someone who wanted Isabella helpless.
Someone who wanted me drowning in grief.
Enzo.
I opened Elena’s letter.
Only one sentence was written across the first page.
IF ISABELLA EVER LOSES THE USE OF HER LEGS, DO NOT LET ADRIAN VALE CONTROL HER TREATMENT.
My vision blurred.
Elena had known Vale’s name before the attack.
“How?” I whispered.
Sophia shook her head.
I turned the page.
A list of dates.
Meetings.
Payments.
Initials.
E.R.
A.V.
And another set.
L.R.
My heart stopped again.
Luca Rossi.
My younger brother.
The only person alive I trusted more than Dante.
Sophia saw the initials.
“Who is L.R.?”
I didn’t answer.
Because my phone rang.
Luca.
I stared at his name.
Then answered.
“Marco.”
His voice was breathless.
“Where are you?”
“The chapel.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get Sophia and leave now.”
A violent crash exploded somewhere behind him.
Then Luca shouted.
“Enzo knows about the box!”
The chapel windows shattered.
Sophia screamed as glass rained across the pews.
Dante dragged us down.
Outside, headlights burst to life between the trees.
Three black vehicles were racing toward the chapel.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, I did not know whether the brother warning me was trying to save me…
or lead Enzo directly to us.
