Chapter 13 - The Three-Hundred-Million-Euro Secret
The hearing began at nine.
By nine-fifteen, Elena understood why Enzo Valli had been so dangerous.
Even under investigation, the man knew how to create confusion.
His attorney argued that Carlo Rossi’s preservation structure had been obsolete for years.
Casano representatives claimed the disputed amendment merely “modernized” development rights.
Riccardo Moretti’s counsel insisted his client believed every document he certified was legitimate.
Nobody admitted knowing about forged signatures.
Everybody blamed somebody else.
Then Marco’s notebook entered evidence.
The room changed.
Dates were difficult to explain away.
Especially dates written before Elena discovered the affair.
The timeline connected the planned wedding directly to the trust delegation and San Aurelio transfer.
Marco sat pale behind his attorney.
Sophia waited outside to testify.
Elena listened while experts confirmed her signature had been digitally copied from an unrelated contract.
Then her father’s recording played.
Carlo Rossi’s voice filled the chamber.
“You’re trying to sell something that isn’t yours.”
Enzo’s expression collapsed.
Then came the sentence that made Elena close her eyes.
“Everyone has a price.”
Carlo:
“Elena doesn’t.”
Silence followed.
The presiding judge looked toward Elena.
She did not cry.
Not there.
Then came the master agreement photographs.
Riccardo’s financial records.
The fraudulent bank account.
Sophia’s testimony.
By afternoon, the fraudulent amendment had been suspended.
But there was still a question.
Why had Casano been willing to spend so much money for access to one narrow strip of historic land?
The answer came from Matteo.
During the investigation, he had discovered a second option agreement attached to a Casano infrastructure project.
If San Aurelio’s service corridor became commercially transferable, Casano Holdings could connect three parcels.
But there was more.
Under the eastern gardens ran a nineteenth-century underground freight tunnel.
Legally abandoned.
Structurally intact.
And connected to a future transit redevelopment zone.
The rights were potentially worth hundreds of millions.
The Moretti estate itself was valued at three hundred million.
The access beneath it could transform the entire surrounding district.
The fight had never been about old stones.
It was about control.
Elena studied the map.
“My father knew.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Probably.”
“That’s why he made the covenant so difficult to amend.”
“Yes.”
Carlo had understood that someday land values would make preservation inconvenient.
So he built a system requiring two families to agree.
The Casanos tried to corrupt one side and impersonate the other.
The hearing recessed.
Outside, journalists filled the courthouse steps.
Elena expected Alessandro to guide her away.
Instead he asked, “Do you want to speak?”
She looked at the microphones.
A week ago they had shouted accusations.
Today they waited for a victim’s statement.
Elena hated both roles.
“I do.”
She stepped forward.
Questions exploded.
“Ms. Rossi, do you feel vindicated?”
“Will you sue Bellini Development?”
“Have you forgiven your sister?”
“Are you romantically involved with Alessandro Moretti?”
Elena almost laughed at the last one.
She raised a hand.
“I’ll make one statement.”
The crowd quieted.
“My father dedicated his career to preserving things that money alone could not replace. Over the past several months, people I trusted attempted to use his work, my signature, my company, and my relationships for financial gain.”
Cameras clicked.
“I will cooperate fully with every investigation. I will not speculate about criminal outcomes.”
She paused.
“But I want to say something about trust.”
Across the steps, Alessandro watched her.
“Trust is not stupidity. Loyalty is not weakness. Loving someone does not make you responsible for what they choose to do with that love.”
Sophia, watching from inside the courthouse, began crying.
Elena continued.
“I’m proud of my father’s work. I’m proud of my employees. And Rossi Studio will continue.”
She stepped away.
A reporter shouted:
“What about your canceled wedding?”
Elena stopped.
Then looked back.
“There are worse things than not getting married.”
The clip spread everywhere.
By evening, two clients reinstated their contracts.
By morning, four more did.
Support messages flooded Rossi Studio.
Not all public opinion changed.
It never did.
But the narrative no longer belonged to Casano.
That night, Elena returned to Palazzo Moretti exhausted.
The restoration office was empty.
A light glowed on the terrace.
Alessandro stood there with two glasses of sparkling water.
“No champagne?” she asked.
“You’ve had enough dramatic drinks around this family.”
She laughed.
He handed her one.
“To surviving hearings.”
“I prefer winning them.”
“Technically it isn’t finished.”
“Don’t ruin this.”
They touched glasses.
Milan glittered beyond the gardens.
Elena leaned against the railing.
“Three hundred million.”
“The valuation?”
“Yes.”
“You’re thinking about the project.”
“I’m always thinking about the project.”
“That’s disturbing.”
She smiled.
“I want to restore the eastern tunnel entrance.”
Alessandro blinked.
“As what?”
“Public heritage access.”
He stared.
“You want people under my garden?”
“Scheduled tours.”
“No.”
“Educational.”
“No.”
“Your grandfather would approve.”
“Emotional manipulation.”
“My specialty now.”
Alessandro laughed.
Elena looked at him.
Something shifted.
Weeks of fear.
Long nights.
His quiet restraint.
The way he had never once used her vulnerability as an invitation.
She put down her glass.
“Alessandro.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
His expression softened.
“Neither do I.”
“I’m not ready for promises.”
“I know.”
“I’m not ready for someone to save me.”
“I know that too.”
“And if you kiss me, I might regret it tomorrow.”
He smiled faintly.
“Then I won’t.”
Elena stared.
“That was annoyingly respectful.”
“I try.”
She stepped closer.
“What if I kiss you?”
For the first time since she met him, Alessandro Moretti looked genuinely surprised.
Elena almost laughed.
Then she kissed him.
Softly.
Briefly.
No dramatic music.
No declaration.
Just warmth.
When she pulled away, Alessandro did not chase her mouth.
He simply looked at her.
“How was that?” he asked.
Elena considered.
“Potentially problematic.”
“I was afraid of that.”
She smiled.
Then Dante opened the terrace door.
“I hate to interrupt whatever professionally inappropriate thing is happening.”
Elena stepped back.
“Your timing is criminal.”
“Family gift.”
His expression became serious.
“Niccolò Casano is missing.”
Alessandro’s face changed.
“What?”
“He failed to report to investigators.”
Matteo appeared behind Dante.
“And he emptied two accounts.”
Elena’s moment of peace vanished.
“How long?”
“Six hours.”
“Where would he go?”
Dante looked at her.
“That’s the problem.”
“He may not be running away.”
Alessandro understood first.
“He may be trying to finish something.”
Elena looked toward the dark eastern wing.
The covenant was suspended.
The fraud was exposed.
But one piece remained.
The original San Aurelio archive.
The evidence capable of destroying Niccolò completely.
May you like
And suddenly the three-hundred-million-euro estate no longer felt safe at all.
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