Chapter 4 - The Man Enzo Buried
Enzo Moretti had spent five years believing Vittorio Moretti was dead.
He had stood in St. Patrick’s Cathedral while hundreds of people filled the pews.
He had carried the coffin.
He had placed a hand on polished mahogany and whispered goodbye to the man who had raised him after his father died.
Now Antonio Russo was telling him the coffin had been empty.
Enzo studied the photograph.
“That could be anyone.”
“You know it isn’t.”
Enzo did.
The slight bend in Vittorio’s left hand came from an old boxing injury.
The scar beside his ear came from a childhood accident.
It was him.
“How?”
Antonio sat.
“Vittorio discovered people inside his organization were preparing to turn against him. He staged his death and moved his money overseas.”
“And nobody told me?”
“He trusted nobody.”
Enzo laughed bitterly.
“Apparently.”
Elena stood near the window.
She had barely spoken since learning about her mother.
Enzo wanted to go to her.
He didn’t know whether she wanted him near her.
That uncertainty hurt more than he expected.
Antonio continued.
“Daniel had the evidence Sofia collected. He disappeared before Vittorio could find him.”
“Then why target Elena?”
“Because Daniel contacted me six months ago.”
Marco’s attention sharpened.
“What did he want?”
“To meet Elena.”
“No,” Antonio said. “He wanted me to give her something.”
“What?”
Antonio looked at his daughter.
“A coin.”
Elena frowned.
“What coin?”
“The old silver one your mother gave you.”
Elena’s expression changed.
“I still have it.”
Enzo stood.
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Marco was already moving.
“Not anymore.”
They reached Elena’s Manhattan apartment forty minutes later.
The door was intact.
Inside, nothing appeared disturbed.
Elena walked toward her bedroom.
Her jewelry box sat on the dresser.
She opened it.
The silver coin was gone.
She closed her eyes.
“They have it.”
Antonio shook his head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that wasn’t the real one.”
Everyone looked at him.
Antonio removed his wallet.
From a hidden compartment he produced another silver coin.
Elena stared.
“You switched it?”
“After Daniel contacted me.”
She took it.
It was heavier than she remembered.
Marco examined the edge.
“There’s a seam.”
Enzo found a small tool.
The coin separated.
Inside was a tiny memory card.
Nobody spoke.
They loaded it onto an isolated laptop.
One folder appeared.
SOFIA.
Elena’s hand covered her mouth.
Inside were scanned documents.
Bank records.
Corporate transfers.
Photographs.
And a video.
Dated twenty years earlier.
Elena clicked it.
Her mother appeared.
Young.
Beautiful.
Alive.
Elena began crying before Sofia spoke.
“My name is Sofia Russo. If you are watching this, something has gone wrong.”
Antonio turned away.
Enzo remained still.
Sofia continued.
“Vittorio Moretti believes fear makes people loyal. It doesn’t. It makes them quiet.”
She explained everything.
The companies.
The hidden accounts.
The officials Vittorio had compromised.
Then she said something unexpected.
“There is one Moretti who must never be blamed for this.”
Enzo looked up.
“Enzo.”
He stopped breathing.
Sofia continued.
“He is a boy. Seventeen years old. Vittorio is preparing him to inherit everything. If anyone finds this evidence, understand that Enzo does not know what his uncle is doing.”
Elena slowly turned toward him.
Sofia looked directly into the camera.
“If you can save that boy from becoming Vittorio, do it.”
The video ended.
Nobody moved.
Elena stared at the blank screen.
Her mother had known Enzo.
Not personally.
But enough to protect him.
Enzo looked away.
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
Marco looked at Antonio.
“Daniel Vescari wants to meet.”
“Where?”
“He sent coordinates.”
Enzo shook his head.
“Trap.”
Antonio agreed.
“Probably.”
Elena stood.
“I’m going.”
Three men answered simultaneously.
“No.”
She looked at them.
“I’m beginning to hate that word.”
Enzo stepped closer.
“Elena, this man allowed you to believe he was dead for eight years.”
“And he has answers about my mother.”
“He may also be working with Vittorio.”
“Then you come with me.”
Enzo stopped.
Elena held his gaze.
“I’m not asking you to protect me.”
“What are you asking?”
“To stand beside me.”
Something shifted between them.
Not boss and employee.
Not protector and protected.
Partners.
They met Daniel in an abandoned church outside the city.
He looked older than Elena remembered.
Gray hair.
Deep lines.
But the eyes were the same.
“Elena.”
She stared.
“Don’t call me Ellie.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I deserve that.”
“You let me mourn you.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“Everyone keeps saying that while lying to me.”
Daniel accepted the blow.
Then he looked at Enzo.
“You look like your father.”
“People tell me.”
“Your father was a better man than Vittorio.”
Enzo stiffened.
“What do you know about my father?”
Daniel removed an envelope.
“Your father discovered what Vittorio was doing.”
Enzo took it.
Inside was a letter.
His father’s handwriting.
If something happens to me, Vittorio did it.
Enzo felt the room tilt.
His father had died when Enzo was seventeen.
Another accident.
Another Moretti lie.
Daniel spoke quietly.
“Sofia and your father were working together.”
Elena looked at Enzo.
Their tragedies had never been separate.
Their parents had tried to stop the same man.
Vittorio.
Daniel continued.
“He killed neither of them personally. But he arranged both accidents.”
Enzo closed his eyes.
Everything he had believed about his life shifted.
Then Daniel said, “And he knows we’re here.”
Marco moved toward the window.
Too late.
Headlights appeared outside.
Several vehicles.
Enzo looked at Daniel.
“You betrayed us.”
“No.”
Daniel looked genuinely frightened.
“They followed you.”
A phone rang.
Not Enzo’s.
Not Elena’s.
Daniel’s.
He answered.
A familiar voice filled the room.
Older.
Calm.
Vittorio.
“Hello, nephew.”
Enzo went still.
“Uncle.”
“I wondered how long it would take.”
“What do you want?”
Vittorio laughed softly.
“What I have always wanted.”
His voice changed.
“Elena Russo.”
Enzo looked at her.
Vittorio continued.
“Bring her to me, and I’ll tell you the truth about the night your father died.”
Enzo’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Go to hell.”
Vittorio laughed again.
“You still don’t understand.”
A pause.
“Your father didn’t die trying to escape me.”
Enzo said nothing.
May you like
“He died trying to save Elena.”
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