Chapter 4 - The Secret Hidden Beneath the Romano Name
Dante did not react visibly when Mr. Russo’s voice echoed through the warehouse.
But Sophie felt his hand tighten around hers.
Russo had managed the Romano estate for twenty-two years.
He knew every employee.
Every guest.
Every schedule.
He had been the one who interviewed Sophie.
He had welcomed her into the house.
Now he was apparently standing above them ordering men to search for her father’s ledger.
Dante leaned close.
“There’s another exit.”
“How do you know?”
“I had the building plans.”
“You might have mentioned that earlier.”
“I enjoy surprises.”
“This is not the charming kind.”
They moved through the cellar.
Behind old wine racks, Dante found a narrow service tunnel.
Sophie looked at him.
“That was used for deliveries?”
“Yes.”
“Or secret mafia escapes?”
“Probably both.”
They climbed through.
Behind them, footsteps reached the cellar.
“Someone opened the panel!”
“Search the back!”
Dante and Sophie emerged into an alley.
The SUV stood two blocks away.
They reached it without being seen.
Once inside, Sophie locked the doors.
Dante started the engine.
Neither spoke until they had driven several miles.
Then Sophie held up the ledger.
“Who is C.R.?”
“I don’t know.”
“Russo does.”
“Yes.”
“He works for you.”
“He worked for my father first.”
“Which means?”
“It means loyalty gets complicated.”
Sophie looked toward the window.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere Russo doesn’t know.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the underground garage of a modest brick building overlooking the river.
Sophie stared.
“This is your secret hideout?”
“Apartment.”
“You own an apartment?”
“I own several.”
“Of course you do.”
Upstairs, the place surprised her.
No marble.
No staff.
No enormous chandeliers.
Just dark wooden floors, comfortable furniture, books, and a kitchen that appeared genuinely used.
“This doesn’t look like you.”
Dante took off his jacket.
“What does that mean?”
“There’s no painting large enough to intimidate visitors.”
“I keep those at the mansion.”
Sophie almost smiled.
Dante poured coffee.
It was two in the morning.
Neither intended to sleep.
They spread the documents across the dining table.
For hours, they compared dates.
Transfers.
Shipments.
Names.
At four thirteen, Sophie noticed something.
“Dante.”
He looked up.
“These dates.”
She pointed.
“Every transfer marked V.R. was followed by one marked C.R.”
Dante studied them.
“So?”
“So maybe C.R. isn’t another person.”
She traced the numbers.
“Maybe it’s an account.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
He pulled out his laptop.
Within minutes, he accessed archived business records.
Then stopped.
“Cristallo Rosso.”
Sophie frowned.
“What is that?”
“Red Crystal.”
“A company?”
“A shell corporation.”
“Owned by?”
Dante stared at the screen.
“My mother.”
Sophie went silent.
Dante’s mother, Elena Romano, had died when he was nineteen.
He rarely mentioned her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
He searched further.
Cristallo Rosso had existed for only three years.
It received millions through Bellini-related transactions.
Then closed two weeks after Michael Bennett’s death.
Sophie leaned back.
“Your mother was stealing?”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because she was dying.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Cancer.”
His voice remained steady.
“She spent her final year in hospitals.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dante nodded once.
He searched another file.
Then something changed.
His face became completely still.
“What?”
He turned the laptop toward Sophie.
Cristallo Rosso’s registered representative.
Vittorio Romano.
Sophie exhaled.
“He used your mother’s name.”
“Yes.”
“To steal from your father.”
“Yes.”
“And my father discovered it.”
Dante stared at the ledger.
“Likely.”
Sophie picked up one of the cassette tapes.
“What’s on these?”
“We need a player.”
“You don’t own a cassette player?”
“I’m thirty-seven.”
“My condolences.”
At sunrise, Dante found an old electronics repair shop that opened early.
Money apparently solved unusual problems.
By eight, they had a cassette player.
The first tape contained nothing but static.
The second contained her father’s voice.
Sophie froze.
Fifteen years disappeared.
Michael Bennett sounded tired.
“If anyone hears this, my name is Michael Bennett. Carlo Romano believes his brother Vittorio has been stealing through Bellini accounts.”
Dante looked at Sophie.
The tape continued.
“Carlo confronted him. Vittorio threatened to expose business that could destroy the family. Carlo backed down.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
Her father’s voice continued.
“I refused.”
She covered her mouth.
“I made copies. Russo knows something. I don’t know how much. Carlo says he’ll protect Sophie if anything happens to me, but I no longer trust promises.”
Dante lowered his gaze.
Then the tape became distorted.
Static.
Michael’s voice returned.
“If I die, it will not be an accident.”
Sophie shut her eyes.
Dante reached for the player.
She stopped him.
“No. Keep going.”
The recording continued.
“There is one person Vittorio fears. Elena Romano.”
Dante’s head lifted sharply.
“Dante’s mother discovered the accounts first.”
Silence filled the apartment.
“She gave me documents. She asked me to protect her son. Dante was young. He knew nothing.”
Dante’s face had lost color.
Sophie listened.
“Vittorio believes Elena died before she could reveal everything.”
Static.
“But she left something behind.”
Then the tape ended.
Dante stared at the machine.
“Play the next one.”
The third tape contained only a few minutes.
Her father again.
“Elena said the proof is hidden where Dante learned to tell good wine from bad.”
Dante frowned.
Sophie looked at him.
“Where did you learn?”
“My mother taught me.”
“Where?”
Dante’s eyes shifted.
Then widened slightly.
“The Bellini vineyard.”
Sophie understood.
The vineyard from the bottle.
The place where this entire story began.
Dante stood.
“We’re going to Italy.”
Sophie blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Bellini is in Tuscany.”
“I know where Tuscany is.”
“Pack a bag.”
“I have a job.”
“You work for me.”
“That does make this argument inconvenient.”
Before Dante could respond, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Russo.
Dante answered.
His voice became cold.
“Where are you?”
Russo’s reply came faintly through the speaker.
“At the mansion.”
“Stay there.”
“Mr. Romano, I need to explain.”
“Explain the warehouse.”
Silence.
Then Russo said something unexpected.
“I was trying to stop Vittorio.”
Dante and Sophie exchanged a look.
“What?”
“Those men weren’t all his. Two were mine.”
“You ordered them to find the ledger.”
“To keep it away from him.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because Vittorio knows you found the Bennett records.”
Dante’s expression sharpened.
“How?”
Russo exhaled.
“Because someone in your inner circle is feeding him information.”
Sophie felt another chill.
“Who?”
Russo’s answer arrived slowly.
“I don’t know.”
Then a loud sound came through the phone.
A crash.
Russo cursed.
The line went dead.
“Russo?”
Nothing.
Dante called back.
No answer.
Then Sophie’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Russo sat tied to a chair inside the mansion’s wine cellar.
Beneath it was one sentence.
Bring Michael Bennett’s ledger to Vittorio—or Russo won’t be the only person who disappears.
A second photograph arrived.
Sophie stared at it.
Her blood turned cold.
It showed her apartment.
And standing outside her front door was her younger cousin Emily.
May you like
The only family Sophie had left.
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