Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Refused to Be Owned
The repair shop had been closed for four years.
After Giovanni Rossi's death, Elena had kept it running for twelve months because selling it felt too much like admitting he would never walk through the door again.
Eventually the bills won.
She sold most of the equipment.
Kept the lease as long as she could.
Then surrendered it.
The building now belonged to a development company.
Demolition was scheduled in three weeks.
At six the next morning, Elena stood across the street staring at the faded sign.
ROSSI AUTO.
Luca stood beside her.
Dario and two security men waited near the cars.
“You grew up here?” Luca asked.
“Almost.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“My father couldn't afford babysitters. I did homework in the office.”
Luca looked toward the dark windows.
“You miss him.”
“Sometimes.”
“Despite everything?”
She glanced at him.
“People don't stop being your family just because they disappoint you.”
Luca looked away.
Something in the statement had reached him.
Elena noticed but didn't ask.
They crossed the street.
The lock had been changed.
Luca's men had obtained permission from the developer using methods Elena deliberately did not investigate.
Inside, dust covered everything.
The smell of oil remained.
Elena paused.
For an instant she was twelve again.
Her father lay beneath a Fiat complaining about customers.
Paolo was drinking terrible coffee.
A radio played too loudly.
Then the memory disappeared.
“Office,” she said.
The photograph still hung on the wall.
Her mother stood on a beach in Sicily, smiling into sunlight.
Elena swallowed.
She had forgotten how beautiful the photograph was.
She lifted the frame.
Behind it was a steel panel.
Luca stepped closer.
“A safe.”
Elena inserted Marco's brass key.
It turned.
The door opened.
Inside sat three objects.
A black notebook.
A flash drive.
And an envelope addressed to Elena.
She reached for the letter.
Luca said nothing.
She opened it.
Her father's handwriting filled several pages.
Tesoro,
If you are reading this, then the past has finally found you.
Elena sat down.
Luca remained standing beside her.
She continued silently.
Her father confessed that he had worked for Yusuf Demir, Luca's father.
He explained that he discovered accounts connected to Vittorio Santi.
Millions moved through fake companies.
Some money came from stolen antiquities.
Some from extortion.
Some from businesses Giovanni did not understand.
When he confronted Santi, Santi threatened Elena.
Giovanni ran.
But the secret did not stay buried.
Years later, desperate for money, Giovanni borrowed from a lender without knowing Santi controlled it.
By the time he discovered the truth, Elena's name had already been placed on the documents.
He tried to gather enough evidence to expose the company.
Then he died.
Elena lowered the letter.
“How did he die?” Luca asked.
“Car accident.”
“Was that investigated?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“Police.”
“What did they conclude?”
“He fell asleep driving.”
Luca's expression made it clear he disliked the answer.
Elena returned to the letter.
The final paragraph broke her.
I failed you in many ways.
I drank when I should have listened.
I gambled because I believed one big win could repair everything I had broken.
It never did.
You deserved a father who told you the truth.
I was ashamed of mine.
Do not spend your life paying for my shame.
Elena covered her mouth.
For five years she had hated him.
Not always.
Not completely.
But enough to feel guilty whenever she remembered his laugh.
Enough to avoid visiting his grave.
Luca moved closer.
He didn't touch her.
She appreciated that.
“I thought he didn't care,” she whispered.
“He cared.”
“He still signed my name.”
“Yes.”
“He still gambled.”
“Yes.”
“He still lied.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked up at him.
“Don't defend him.”
“I'm not.”
“Everyone always does that when someone dies. They turn them into saints.”
“Your father was not a saint.”
She laughed through unexpected tears.
“No.”
“He was frightened. He made terrible decisions.”
“Yes.”
“And he loved you.”
Elena looked back at the letter.
Both things could be true.
She hated that.
She needed it.
Luca picked up the black notebook.
“May I?”
Elena nodded.
He opened it.
Pages of numbers.
Dates.
Initials.
Shipping codes.
Luca's expression sharpened.
“This is part of the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The records my father thought Giovanni stole.”
“So Santi was right.”
“Partly.”
Luca turned pages.
“These transactions stop fifteen years ago.”
“What about the flash drive?”
Dario connected it to an isolated laptop.
Password protected.
Elena tried birthdays.
Nothing.
Her mother's name.
Nothing.
The old apartment address.
Nothing.
Then she remembered the yellow raincoat photograph.
“Tiny evil grapes.”
Luca looked at her.
“What?”
Elena typed OLIVES.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Luca stared.
“You're joking.”
“My father had a strange sense of humor.”
Folders appeared.
Photographs.
Invoices.
Scanned documents.
Audio recordings.
Dario looked impressed.
“This could be substantial.”
Luca opened an audio file.
Giovanni's voice filled the abandoned office.
“If you're hearing this, I did not manage to finish what I started.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Five years.
She had not heard his voice in five years.
“I discovered Santi is using Demir shipments without authorization. Yusuf knows some of it. He does not know all of it.”
Luca became still.
The recording continued.
“Santi believes I copied the master ledger. I did. But I split it into three parts.”
Elena looked at Luca.
“Three?”
“One stays with me. One goes where Yusuf told Luca to look if anything happens to him. The third goes to Paolo.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Paolo.”
“Together, they prove everything.”
The recording ended.
Elena stood.
“Paolo has the third part.”
“Yes.”
“And you have the second?”
“No.”
“But your father told you where to look.”
“Apparently.”
“Where?”
Luca looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
Elena stared.
“Very helpful.”
“My father died before he could tell me.”
“How?”
Luca's face changed.
“Heart attack.”
She studied him.
“You don't believe that.”
“No.”
A crash sounded outside.
Everyone froze.
Dario drew his weapon.
“Stay here.”
He moved toward the door.
Luca stepped in front of Elena.
Another crash.
Then smoke began pouring beneath the office door.
“Fire,” Dario shouted.
Flames suddenly appeared beyond the window.
Someone had set the front of the repair shop on fire.
“Elena.”
Luca grabbed the flash drive and notebook.
Dario kicked open the rear door.
Smoke filled the room rapidly.
They moved through the workshop.
Elena coughed.
The roof creaked.
“Go,” Luca ordered.
She reached the alley.
Then stopped.
The letter.
Her father's letter.
Still on the office desk.
“Elena!”
She turned.
“I left it.”
Luca knew immediately.
“No.”
“It is the only—”
“No.”
She started back.
Luca caught her waist.
“Let me go!”
“The building is burning.”
“My father's letter is inside!”
“Elena.”
“Let go!”
She fought him.
Luca turned her toward him.
His voice was fierce.
“I will not trade your life for a piece of paper.”
She stared at him through tears.
“It matters to me.”
“I know.”
“You don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
Behind them, part of the ceiling collapsed.
Elena stopped fighting.
Luca guided her farther into the alley.
Fire crews arrived minutes later.
The office was destroyed.
Elena stood wrapped in a blanket, watching flames eat the building where she had spent half her childhood.
Luca remained beside her.
She didn't speak for a long time.
Finally she whispered, “You could have lied.”
“What?”
“You could have told me you'd try to get the letter.”
“It would have been a stupid promise.”
She looked at him.
“I hate you a little.”
“I can live with that.”
“Do you always make everything sound so simple?”
“No.”
He watched the burning building.
“Only the things that are.”
Elena looked at the man everyone in Milan feared.
He had just prevented her from running into a burning building.
He had also spent two days telling her what she could and could not do.
Something inside her finally snapped.
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“If this is going to continue, something changes.”
He turned.
“You do not decide where I go.”
He said nothing.
“You do not decide who I speak to.”
Still nothing.
“You don't tell other men I belong to you.”
“I already agreed.”
“And you don't kiss me because you're jealous.”
His eyes changed slightly.
“That one may require negotiation.”
Elena almost smiled.
She stopped herself.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
She stepped closer.
“I am not one of your paintings.”
“I know.”
“I'm not something you protect by locking it away.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Luca held her gaze.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he said, “I don't know how to protect someone without controlling the situation.”
It was the first truly vulnerable thing she had heard him say.
Elena's anger softened.
“Then learn.”
His eyes searched hers.
“From you?”
“Maybe.”
“And if you're wrong?”
“About what?”
“If freedom gets you hurt.”
Elena moved closer.
“Then at least it was my freedom.”
Luca's expression shifted.
Respect.
Fear.
Something more.
He nodded.
“All right.”
“All right?”
“I'll learn.”
The fire reflected in his eyes.
Elena believed him.
That frightened her almost as much as wanting him.
Dario approached.
“We found something.”
He held up a small security camera recovered from the alley.
“Whoever started the fire was recorded.”
Luca looked at the screen.
A figure appeared.
Elena expected Santi's men.
Instead, she saw someone carrying a fuel container.
When the figure turned toward the camera, Elena's body went cold.
Paolo.
Her father's best friend had opened locker 217.
Now he had burned the repair shop.
And before leaving, he looked directly into the camera.
Then he held up the black envelope he had taken from the station.
Written across the front were two words.
May you like
FIND LUCA.
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