Chapter 3 - The Interrogation in the Cellar
By 3:00 AM, Villa Moretti was wrapped in a suffocating shroud of fog rising off the lake.
Leaving two elite guards stationed inside our fourth-floor bedroom, Alessandro escorted me down to the subterranean levels of the estate. I had refused to leave Emma alone, but Dr. Emil had promised to stay by her bedside, and Alessandro insisted I needed to hear what was about to be uncovered.
The basement level smelled of ancient stone, cold wine, and iron.
Behind a reinforced steel door at the end of a long, vaulted corridor lay the villa’s high-security interrogation room.
Inside, bound to a heavy wooden chair under a single bare lightbulb, sat Vivian Romano’s father: Don Domenico Romano.
The old boss was furious, his silk tie undone, sweat glistening on his bald head. Four Moretti guards stood against the damp stone walls, their faces concealed by black balaclavas.
“Moretti!” Don Domenico roared as the door opened. “This is an outrage! You drag me out of my quarters like a common street thief? My family has shared a border with yours for forty years! My daughter is engaged to marry you!”
Alessandro walked into the pool of yellow light, his face completely devoid of emotion. He pulled out a folding chair, set it opposite the old boss, and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“Your daughter slapped a mother in my hallway tonight, Domenico,” Alessandro said smoothly. “And then she called a child’s toy a ‘filthy rag.’”
“She is a spoiled girl!” Domenico spat. “She was jealous! You’ve ignored her for six months while preparing for this wedding! She took her frustration out on a maid! I will pay the girl ten thousand euros! Fifty thousand! Now let me out of this hole!”
Alessandro reached into his coat pocket and placed Barnaby the rabbit on the wooden table between them.
Domenico’s eyes fell on the blue toy. He froze.
The bluster, the rage, the arrogant puffing of his chest—all of it vanished in less than half a second. A bead of cold sweat rolled slowly down the deep crease of his right cheek.
“You know what this is, don't you, Domenico?” Alessandro asked quietly.
“It’s... it’s a doll,” Domenico stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward the steel door. “I don't know what you're talking about, Alessandro.”
“Ten years ago, when my father was murdered, three shipping routes out of Genoa were re-routed through your territory,” Alessandro said, his tone conversational, almost pleasant. “The police files were lost. The dock inspectors were paid off. And the man who authorized those shipments was your younger brother, Carlo.”
Domenico swallowed hard, his throat making a dry, clicking sound. “Carlo died five years ago, Alessandro. You know that! He had a heart attack!”
“Carlo was poisoned,” Alessandro corrected, leaning closer to the old man. “Because he started asking where the missing twenty million euros from Trevisan’s account had gone. He found out that the money had been converted into bearer bonds and deposited into a private trust in Liechtenstein.”
Alessandro reached out, taking the blue rabbit from the table, handling it with surprising gentleness.
“Inside this toy,” Alessandro murmured, “is the master ledger written by David Vance before he died. It contains every wire transfer, every bank account number, and every name involved in my father’s execution.”
Domenico’s chest was heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. “Alessandro... listen to me... you don't understand what you're touching. The people behind Trevisan aren't just mobsters. They are men in Rome. They are foreign intelligence agencies. If you open that drive, they will wipe the Moretti name from the map!”
“They can try,” Alessandro said flatly. He stood up, turning his back on the bound crime lord. “Where is the secondary key, Domenico?”
“What secondary key?” Domenico cried out.
“David Vance was a brilliant officer,” Alessandro said, stopping near the door where I stood trembling in the shadows. “He wouldn't create a master ledger without a secondary cryptographic key to unlock the military-grade encryption on the drive. Where is it?”
Domenico let out a raspy, desperate laugh. “I don't have it! I swear to God on my mother’s grave, I don't have it! If David Vance hid the drive in the child’s toy... then the key is with the only other thing he left behind!”
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Alessandro turned his head slowly, his gray eyes locking onto me standing in the doorway.
My hand flew to my chest, my fingers grasping the simple silver locket I had worn around my neck every day since David had given it to me on our second wedding anniversary.
