Chapter 33 - The Grave Beneath the Chapel
The chapel had been Roman’s refuge during the worst years of his life.
Now Marcus’s men were tearing up the floor.
Roman hated every second.
“This feels sacrilegious,” Clara whispered.
Roman glanced toward the workers.
“My family buried a murdered man under a church.”
“Fair point.”
Catherine sat in the first pew.
She looked smaller than Roman remembered.
Older.
For decades, she had carried pieces of other people’s secrets.
Now those secrets were being dug out of stone.
At two in the afternoon, Marcus’s foreman found hollow ground beneath the altar.
They removed a rectangular slab.
Cold air rose from below.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Roman drew a flashlight.
Marcus immediately stepped in front of him.
“No.”
Roman stared.
Marcus stared back.
“You have two children.”
“You also have a terrible survival instinct.”
“I learned from you.”
Clara stepped between them.
“We all go.”
Roman opened his mouth.
“No,” Clara said.
He closed it.
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Marriage.”
Roman ignored him.
They descended.
The chamber beneath the chapel was small.
Stone walls.
No coffin.
No body.
Only an iron safe.
Marcus examined the lock.
“Old mechanical system.”
Roman noticed four symbols carved above it.
A crown.
A ship.
A rose.
A bird.
Clara touched the bird.
“Little bird.”
Roman looked at her.
“My father did not know you.”
“I’m aware.”
Catherine suddenly stood.
“Sofia.”
Roman’s face changed.
“My mother?”
“She loved birds. Antonio called her his nightingale before everything became ugly.”
Roman stared at the symbols.
Crown.
Ship.
Rose.
Bird.
Adrian said, “Maybe they represent people.”
“The crown is Antonio,” Clara said.
“The ship is business,” Marcus added.
“The rose?”
Catherine whispered, “Elias.”
Roman looked at her.
“Why?”
“His wife grew roses.”
The bird meant Sofia.
Roman entered numbers.
Birth dates.
Wedding dates.
Nothing.
Then Clara saw scratches beside the symbols.
Not numbers.
Musical notes.
“Your mother’s piano again.”
Roman groaned.
“Apparently no one in this family believed in normal passwords.”
They reconstructed the sequence.
The lock clicked.
Inside the safe sat a single metal box.
Marcus opened it carefully.
No explosives.
Inside were three items.
A bloodstained pocket watch.
A photograph.
A cassette tape.
Roman picked up the photograph.
Antonio Duca.
Carlo Moretti.
Sofia.
Elias Vane.
Arthur Kessler.
Five people gathered around a conference table.
On the back:
THE NIGHT WE DECIDED WHO WOULD OWN THE FUTURE.
Clara stared.
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”
Adrian examined the pocket watch.
Initials were engraved on the back.
C.M.
Carlo Moretti.
Catherine began crying.
Roman looked at her.
“You knew he died here.”
She nodded.
“What happened?”
“Play the tape.”
Marcus found an old recorder from the archive room.
Static filled the chapel.
Then Antonio Duca’s younger voice emerged.
“If Roman ever hears this, then I failed to bury the past deeply enough.”
Roman froze.
Clara took his hand.
The recording continued.
“Carlo discovered the Crown Reserve after Elias copied the accounts. He wanted to auction the files. Arthur Kessler wanted them destroyed. Salvatore wanted them for leverage.”
A pause.
Then Antonio said, “Carlo came here because he believed Sofia had the original key.”
Roman glanced toward Catherine.
The voice continued.
“He threatened my wife. We fought. Carlo drew first.”
Silence.
“I killed him.”
Roman closed his eyes.
There it was.
Another crime.
Another ghost.
But Antonio continued.
“I told myself I protected Sofia. Perhaps I did. But afterward I hid the body and lied to Carlo’s son. That made the boy inherit a mystery instead of grief.”
Vincent.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“The Crown Reserve cannot be released whole,” Antonio said. “Too many innocent families would be destroyed beside guilty men. But it cannot be destroyed either. Truth must survive.”
Marcus leaned closer.
“Where is it?”
The recording crackled.
“I divided the key into three.”
Roman frowned.
“One went to Sofia.”
Catherine whispered, “The piano.”
“One went to Elias.”
Adrian said, “The ledger.”
“And the final key…”
Static swallowed the next words.
Then the tape resumed.
“…to the son of the man I killed.”
Roman’s face changed.
Clara whispered, “Vincent.”
The tape ended.
Marcus stared at the dead recorder.
“So Vincent already has part of the key.”
Roman nodded.
“And he thinks we have the rest.”
A loud alarm exploded through the estate.
Marcus touched his earpiece.
“What?”
His expression changed.
“Say again.”
Roman grabbed his arm.
“What happened?”
Marcus looked toward him.
“The north gate was breached.”
Roman reached for his weapon.
“By whom?”
Marcus stared at the security feed on his phone.
Nobody was entering.
A black SUV was leaving.
Roman’s blood turned cold.
“Where are the children?”
Clara ran for the stairs.
“Sofia! Antonio!”
They reached the main hall.
Sofia stood with her security detail.
Safe.
Clara grabbed her.
“Where’s your brother?”
Sofia looked confused.
“He was with Grandma Catherine.”
Everyone turned.
Catherine had remained underground.
Roman looked toward the hallway.
A nanny came running.
Pale.
Terrified.
“Mr. Duca…”
Roman’s world stopped.
“Where is Antonio?”
May you like
The woman began crying.
“He’s gone.”
