Chapter 7 - The Dead Man in the ChapelNobody spoke.
The old man remained in the chapel doorway while winter wind moved around him.
Sophia stared at his face.
She had seen photographs.
Very few.
Her mother kept one beside an old jewelry box.
Her grandmother had another hidden inside a cookbook.
The man in those pictures had thick dark hair, powerful shoulders, and a broad smile.
This man was nearly eighty.
His body had narrowed with age.
His hair was white.
One leg appeared stiff.
But the eyes were the same.
Sophia knew before anyone explained.
“Grandfather?”
Vittorio’s attention moved from Elena to Sophia.
His face changed.
“My God.”
Sophia could not move.
He stepped inside.
“You have Giulia’s eyes.”
At the mention of her grandmother, Sophia’s grief surged.
“She died yesterday.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
Pain transformed him.
“No.”
“You knew she was sick.”
“I knew.”
“You called me.”
His eyes opened.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
That question struck harder than Sophia intended.
Vittorio gripped his cane.
“Because my presence could have killed her years ago.”
“She died believing you were gone.”
“No.”
Elena’s voice cracked.
“No, Papa. She died protecting your secret.”
Vittorio looked at his daughter.
“I’m sorry.”
Elena laughed through tears.
“Twenty-seven years.”
“I know.”
“No birthday. No funeral. No letter. Nothing.”
“I watched from a distance.”
“That makes it worse.”
Sophia turned toward Matteo.
He had remained silent.
Watching.
Calculating.
Vittorio noticed him.
“Santino’s boy.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“Don’t call me that.”
A faint smile.
“Good.”
“You took the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“From whom?”
Vittorio looked around the chapel.
“Everyone.”
Sophia stepped forward.
“My grandmother said it belongs to both families.”
“It does.”
“Then why remove it?”
“Because somebody else found the chapel first.”
Matteo showed him the note.
Too late, Matteo.
Vittorio’s expression changed.
“I didn’t leave that.”
“I assumed.”
“Then they know.”
“Who?”
Vittorio sat slowly on a pew.
Sophia’s patience broke.
“No more riddles.”
The old man looked at her.
“Your grandmother said the same thing.”
“Good.”
She crossed her arms.
“Start talking.”
Matteo almost smiled.
Vittorio noticed.
“Careful, Ricci.”
“About?”
“She has Bellandi blood.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Sophia glared at both men.
“Talk.”
Vittorio sighed.
“In 1999, I discovered Santino Ricci was being betrayed from inside his own organization.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“By whom?”
“I never knew the real name.”
“What did you know?”
“Transactions. Accounts. Meetings. Someone was selling information to rival families and law enforcement simultaneously.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if the goal was not loyalty.”
“Then what?”
“Collapse.”
Matteo became very still.
Vittorio continued.
“Someone wanted the Ricci organization weakened enough to seize its legitimate assets.”
“Who benefited?”
“Many people.”
“Name them.”
“I had one name.”
Vittorio looked at Elena.
“Alessandro Moretti.”
Sophia remembered Luca’s father from Matteo’s earlier explanation.
Matteo’s expression darkened.
“Alessandro was the traitor?”
“No.”
“Then why his name?”
“Because Alessandro discovered the same conspiracy.”
Vittorio leaned heavily on the cane.
“He came to me three weeks before the attack. He knew someone close to Santino was feeding information outward.”
“Who?”
“He suspected Santino’s attorney.”
“Gabriel Conti?”
Vittorio nodded.
Matteo swore under his breath.
Gabriel Conti had remained with the Ricci family until his death seven years earlier.
More importantly, his son still handled several Ricci corporate legal accounts.
“Why didn’t Alessandro tell my father?”
“He did.”
“And?”
“Santino didn’t believe him.”
Matteo gave a bitter laugh.
“That sounds like my father.”
“He believed loyalty was something fear could guarantee.”
Vittorio looked at Sophia.
“It can’t.”
Her mind was racing.
“So Conti arranged the attack?”
“We believed so.”
“Why?”
“To eliminate evidence. Me. Alessandro. Anyone who could connect the accounts.”
“What happened to Alessandro?”
Vittorio hesitated.
Matteo noticed.
“You know.”
“I knew.”
“Past tense?”
“He survived the Bellandi attack.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“My father thought he died.”
“No. Alessandro helped me escape.”
“Where?”
“Switzerland first. Then Argentina.”
“And Alessandro?”
“He returned to New York.”
“When?”
“2000.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“He disappeared in 2003.”
Vittorio nodded.
“That was when Conti found him.”
Silence.
Sophia looked between them.
“What happened?”
“I received one final message from Alessandro.”
“What did it say?”
Vittorio’s eyes met Matteo’s.
“Protect Luca.”
Matteo looked away.
Everything rearranged.
Luca’s father had not abandoned him.
He had been hiding something.
Maybe trying to protect his son.
“Where is the ledger?” Matteo asked.
Vittorio stood.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
Vittorio looked at Sophia.
“She has part of it.”
Sophia blinked.
“What?”
“The blue ribbon.”
She looked at her wrist.
“It’s fabric.”
“Open the stitching.”
Sophia stared.
The ribbon had a narrow folded edge.
Matteo took a small knife from his pocket.
She gave him a look.
“You carry that everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Vittorio chuckled.
Matteo cut one tiny stitch.
Inside the ribbon was a strip of translucent material.
Microfilm.
Sophia stared.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Vittorio smiled.
“1999 technology.”
Matteo held it carefully.
“What’s on it?”
“The account index.”
“Where’s the full ledger?”
“New York.”
Matteo’s gaze sharpened.
“Where?”
“Inside your family.”
A vehicle engine sounded outside.
Matteo turned instantly.
Vittorio’s face changed.
“You were followed.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Everyone is followed eventually.”
Headlights swept across the chapel windows.
Sophia moved toward Elena.
Matteo pulled out his phone.
No signal.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He looked at Sophia.
“This is not a debate.”
“It becomes a debate when you start giving orders.”
Another car door slammed.
Vittorio stood.
“Back entrance.”
“There is one?”
He pointed behind the altar.
“Tunnel.”
Sophia stared.
“Of course there’s a tunnel.”
Matteo almost laughed despite the situation.
They moved behind the altar.
Vittorio pushed a stone panel.
A narrow staircase descended.
Footsteps approached outside.
Matteo motioned everyone down.
Sophia went first with Elena.
Vittorio followed.
Matteo remained last.
The chapel door opened upstairs just as he closed the stone panel.
Darkness swallowed them.
Sophia whispered, “Where does this go?”
“The wine cellar,” Vittorio said.
“Under the villa?”
“Yes.”
They descended.
The tunnel smelled of earth and moisture.
After fifty meters, Matteo’s phone regained signal.
He sent Enzo one location pin.
No explanation needed.
At the wine cellar, Vittorio opened another hidden door.
They emerged inside the villa.
Then glass shattered somewhere above.
Sophia flinched.
Matteo caught her hand.
Not wrist.
Hand.
She looked down.
He immediately loosened his grip.
“Sorry.”
This time, she did not pull away.
“Don’t be.”
They moved toward the rear exit.
A man appeared at the end of the corridor.
Black clothing.
Gun.
Matteo pushed Sophia behind a stone column.
The man lifted the weapon.
A shot exploded.
Sophia screamed.
Matteo fired back.
The attacker dropped.
Silence crashed down afterward.
Sophia stared at Matteo.
He held a pistol she had never seen him draw.
“You brought a gun.”
“Yes.”
“You came to Italy armed.”
“Yes.”
“Commercial flight?”
“Private.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You lied.”
“Technically, I avoided answering.”
“This is a terrible time to argue semantics.”
“I agree.”
Another shot came from outside.
Matteo grabbed her hand again.
“Move.”
They ran.
The rear door opened onto the old vineyard road.
A vehicle approached fast.
Matteo raised his weapon.
Then flashed headlights twice.
Enzo.
The SUV stopped.
Enzo jumped out.
“You said alone.”
“Sophia said alone.”
Enzo looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“Everyone ignores me.”
“Noted.”
Matteo pushed Elena and Vittorio into the vehicle.
Sophia followed.
Enzo drove.
As the Bellandi estate disappeared behind them, Sophia looked back.
A fire began glowing inside the chapel.
“They’re burning it.”
Vittorio stared through the rear window.
“They’re erasing history.”
Matteo sat beside Sophia.
“No.”
His voice was cold.
“They’re confirming it.”
“Confirming what?”
“That somebody is terrified of what Vittorio knows.”
The SUV accelerated toward Florence.
Sophia looked at her grandfather.
“Where in New York is the ledger?”
Vittorio’s face became grim.
“Bellissimo.”
Sophia felt her stomach drop.
“The restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
Matteo turned.
“How can you not know?”
“Because I didn’t hide it.”
“Who did?”
Vittorio looked directly at him.
“Your mother.”
Matteo stopped breathing.
“My mother died when I was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“She knew about the ledger?”
“She created the hiding place.”
Matteo’s voice became almost inaudible.
“My mother was involved?”
Vittorio nodded.
“Your mother was the reason any of us survived.”
Matteo stared into the darkness beyond the window.
For decades, he had believed his mother knew nothing about Santino’s criminal world.
That she had been gentle.
Detached.
Protected.
Apparently, everyone he remembered had carried secrets.
Sophia touched his sleeve.
A tiny gesture.
Matteo looked down at her hand.
Then at her face.
“Are you okay?”
She almost laughed.
“My grandmother died yesterday. My grandfather came back from the dead today. Someone shot at us in an abandoned chapel. You lied about a private jet. And apparently there’s a criminal ledger hidden inside my workplace.”
Matteo considered that.
“So no.”
“No.”
A faint smile moved across his mouth.
Sophia’s expression softened despite herself.
Then Vittorio said something that killed the moment.
“If the ledger is still at Bellissimo, someone in New York has probably already begun searching for it.”
Matteo called Luca.
No answer.
He called again.
Nothing.
Then Enzo’s phone rang.
Enzo answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
May you like
Then looked at Matteo.
“Bellissimo is on fire.”
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