Chapter 3 - The Name She Wasn't Supposed to Remember
"Don't move," Luca said.
Sofia heard him rather than saw him.
Then something crashed.
Matteo shouted.
A door slammed.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Luca stood directly in front of Sofia.
His body blocked hers completely.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Matteo?"
"I'm fine."
They searched the archive.
Nobody.
A service door at the rear hung open.
Whoever had spoken Sofia's name was gone.
Luca looked furious.
Not loud fury.
The dangerous kind.
"Security footage."
Matteo left.
Sofia leaned against a shelf.
Her hands were shaking.
Luca noticed.
"Come here."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I'm still fine."
He removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
Sofia looked at him.
"You know that doesn't actually stop fear."
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because I don't know what else to do."
The admission surprised both of them.
Sofia pulled the jacket closer.
It smelled faintly of cedar and Luca's cologne.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
They returned to the penthouse after midnight.
Sofia couldn't sleep.
At two in the morning, she found Luca sitting alone in the kitchen.
No jacket.
Sleeves rolled up.
His tattoos were fully visible.
He held a glass of water.
Not whiskey.
That surprised her too.
"Do mafia bosses not sleep?"
His eyes lifted.
"Do librarians?"
"Not when someone threatens to kill them."
"Fair."
She sat opposite him.
"Why did you really fire me?"
"I told you."
"No. You told me why it was useful. That's different."
Luca was silent.
Sofia waited.
Librarians were good at silence.
Eventually, people filled it.
Luca did.
"Because I panicked."
She blinked.
"You?"
"Don't sound so delighted."
"I'm processing."
"When I saw someone had searched your desk, I knew they had connected you to the ledger."
"So you humiliated me."
"I needed everyone in that room to believe I wanted you gone."
"Did they?"
"Yes."
"Did I?"
Luca looked down.
"Yes."
"That bothered you?"
"More than it should have."
Sofia's heartbeat changed.
"Why?"
He met her eyes.
Neither moved.
Then Luca stood.
"Get some sleep."
Coward, Sofia thought.
But she didn't say it.
The following morning, Matteo arrived with the security footage.
The intruder had known exactly where cameras were located.
Only one frame showed part of his face.
Sofia leaned closer.
"I've seen him."
Luca turned sharply.
"Where?"
She stared at the image.
A memory surfaced.
"Foundation gala. Last year."
"Who was he with?"
"I don't remember."
"Try."
Sofia closed her eyes.
Hundreds of guests.
Champagne.
Politicians.
Donors.
Luca wearing a tuxedo.
She remembered the man because he'd asked a strange question.
"He wanted access to Carlo's collection."
Luca leaned forward.
"What did you tell him?"
"That it wasn't available to the public."
"Name?"
"He signed the visitor sheet."
Matteo was already calling someone.
Twenty minutes later, a photograph of the sheet appeared on Luca's tablet.
Sofia scanned it.
There.
Adrian Vale.
Luca went still.
Matteo whispered a curse.
Sofia looked between them.
"Who is Adrian Vale?"
Luca closed the tablet.
"Someone who should be dead."
Adrian had once worked for Antonio Bellucci.
After Antonio's death, he'd disappeared.
Luca believed he'd been killed overseas.
Apparently not.
"What does he want?"
"The ledger."
"Why?"
"Because Carlo kept evidence."
"Of what?"
Luca looked at her.
"My father's murder."
The room became silent.
Sofia understood then.
This wasn't about money.
It was about twelve years of blood and unanswered questions.
"Your uncle knew who killed him."
"Maybe."
"And hid the evidence in books."
"Carlo trusted paper more than people."
Sofia almost smiled.
"I understand Carlo."
Luca's mouth moved faintly.
Then Sofia remembered something.
"The green book."
"What?"
"The titleless one."
She stood.
"The binding had a printer's mark."
"What mark?"
"A bell."
Luca stared.
Bellucci meant little bells.
"Family mark," he said.
"Carlo wasn't hiding information randomly."
Sofia's mind raced.
"He was cataloging it."
Matteo frowned.
"Cataloging how?"
"Like a librarian."
She grabbed paper.
"The numbers on my library card. Seventeen, forty-two, nine. They might not be ledger entries."
"What are they?"
"Call numbers."
Luca watched her write.
"Seventeen could be shelf. Forty-two could be volume. Nine could be page."
Matteo stared.
"You're telling me Carlo built a code into a library?"
"Maybe."
They returned to the archive in daylight with six guards.
Shelf seventeen.
Forty-second book.
Page nine.
Sofia opened it.
Nothing.
Matteo sighed.
"Great."
"Wait."
Sofia held the page toward the light.
Tiny punctures appeared between letters.
Luca stepped closer.
A pattern.
Numbers.
Coordinates.
Matteo entered them into his phone.
"Brooklyn."
"Where?"
"Green-Wood Cemetery."
Luca's expression changed.
"My father's grave."
They drove there.
Sofia stayed between Luca and Matteo.
Antonio Bellucci's grave was simple.
No grand monument.
Just a stone.
ANTONIO BELLUCCI.
BELOVED FATHER.
Luca stood before it.
Sofia watched his face.
For the first time, she saw the son beneath the boss.
They searched discreetly.
Behind the stone, Sofia noticed a small metal plate.
A bell engraved into it.
Luca removed it.
Behind it was a key.
Matteo exhaled.
"Carlo."
The key had a number.
"Storage locker?" Sofia asked.
"Safe-deposit box," Luca said.
The bank was in Manhattan.
Private.
Old.
Luca knew the manager.
Box 214 had belonged to Antonio.
Inside was one envelope.
Luca opened it.
A photograph fell out.
Antonio.
Carlo.
Adrian Vale.
And a fourth man.
Sofia recognized him immediately.
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
Luca looked at her.
"What?"
Sofia picked up the photograph.
The fourth man was younger there.
But there was no mistake.
She had known his face all her life.
"My father."
Luca stared at her.
"Your father knew mine?"
"I don't know."
Sofia's father, Marco Moretti, had died when she was fourteen.
Or that was what she'd been told.
A construction accident.
No connection to the Belluccis.
No mafia.
Nothing.
Inside the envelope was a letter.
Luca unfolded it.
If Luca ever finds this, tell him Marco Moretti saved his life once.
Sofia stopped breathing.
Below that:
And if Marco's daughter is ever involved, protect her. She is innocent.
Luca read it twice.
Sofia backed away.
"My father knew your father."
"Apparently."
"My mother lied to me."
"We don't know that."
"She told me he died at work."
Luca's phone rang.
Matteo answered his own simultaneously.
Both men looked at Sofia.
Something was wrong.
"What?"
Matteo spoke first.
"Someone just entered Mrs. Moretti's house."
Sofia's mother's house.
She grabbed her phone.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
"Mama."
Luca was already moving.
They reached the house twenty minutes later.
The front door stood open.
A chair was overturned.
Sofia ran inside.
"Mama!"
Luca caught her before she reached the kitchen.
"Stay behind me."
They searched.
Empty.
On the dining table sat a cup of coffee.
Still warm.
Beside it was another photograph.
Sofia picked it up.
Her mother stood beside Antonio Bellucci.
And behind them was Marco Moretti.
Alive.
The photograph had been taken only six years ago.
Sofia stared at the date.
Her father had supposedly died fifteen years earlier.
She turned the photograph over.
Three words were written there.
ASK LUCA'S MOTHER.
Luca's face went white.
Sofia whispered, "Your mother is alive?"
Luca didn't answer.
Then someone knocked once on the back door.
May you like
The handle slowly turned.
And a woman's voice called Luca's childhood nickname from the other side.
