Chapter 5 - The Vineyard Where the Dead Left Messages
Dante moved faster than Sophie had ever seen him move.
Within minutes, three phone calls had been made.
Two cars were dispatched.
Emily was removed from the apartment building before anyone reached her.
Russo was found alive in the mansion cellar.
The men guarding him had already vanished.
Vittorio had disappeared from Chicago.
And by noon, Dante knew where he had gone.
Italy.
Bellini Vineyard.
“He knows,” Sophie said.
They stood inside Dante’s private office.
“He knows we heard the tape.”
Dante looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Then he’ll destroy whatever Elena left behind.”
“If he hasn’t already.”
Sophie folded her arms.
“And we’re still going.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“No?”
“You’re staying in Chicago.”
She laughed once.
“That’s adorable.”
“Sophie.”
“You really keep trying that.”
“This is different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Vittorio threatened your family.”
“Which is exactly why I’m coming.”
Dante approached.
His voice lowered.
“I can protect you here.”
“You said that before someone broke into my apartment.”
His expression tightened.
Sophie softened slightly.
“I’m not blaming you.”
“It sounded like it.”
“I’m saying hiding me won’t fix this.”
Dante said nothing.
“My father died because he refused to look away. Your mother risked everything to protect you. We are not stopping now.”
Dante watched her for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“Pack.”
Tuscany looked offensively beautiful for a place holding fifteen years of secrets.
Rolling hills.
Stone villas.
Rows of grapevines glowing beneath late summer sun.
The Bellini estate sat on a hillside surrounded by cypress trees.
Sophie stepped out of the car.
“This is where your mother taught you wine?”
Dante nodded.
“I was eleven.”
“What did you think?”
“That everything tasted terrible.”
Sophie smiled.
“You were an intelligent child.”
He looked at her.
“You stole my wine.”
“You’re still upset about that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m considering charging you.”
“For one glass?”
“You were very thorough.”
Despite everything, she laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
For several seconds, the danger felt far away.
Then an elderly man approached from the vineyard house.
He introduced himself as Matteo Bellini.
When Dante gave his name, the old man stared.
“Elena’s boy.”
Dante’s expression shifted.
“You knew my mother?”
Matteo smiled sadly.
“She saved this vineyard.”
Inside, he showed them photographs.
Elena Romano standing among grapevines.
Young Dante beside her.
Carlo Romano.
Michael Bennett.
Sophie touched the image of her father.
“He came here?”
“Many times,” Matteo said.
“He loved the cellar.”
Sophie swallowed.
“Did he leave anything?”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Where?”
The old man shook his head.
“Your mother gave me instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“That I should only reveal the place when Michael Bennett’s daughter and Elena Romano’s son came together.”
Sophie and Dante looked at each other.
“That is incredibly specific,” Sophie said.
Matteo smiled faintly.
“Elena was an incredibly specific woman.”
He led them beneath the vineyard house.
Deep into an ancient cellar.
Dusty bottles lined stone walls.
Matteo stopped before a rack of Bellini Reserve.
He removed three bottles.
Behind them was a metal box.
Dante opened it.
Inside were bank documents.
Photographs.
A signed confession.
And a letter addressed to Dante.
His hands stopped.
Sophie stepped away.
“This is yours.”
Dante opened it.
My son,
If you are reading this, then you are old enough to know that protecting someone does not always mean keeping them ignorant.
I made that mistake with you.
Your uncle Vittorio has been stealing from the family and using my accounts to hide it.
Your father knows.
He is afraid of what will happen if the truth becomes public.
I am not.
Michael Bennett agreed to help me preserve proof.
If I die before I can finish this, trust Michael.
Dante stopped reading.
Sophie watched him.
He continued silently.
His eyes moved more slowly.
Then his jaw tightened.
“What does it say?”
Dante handed her the final paragraph.
Sophie read.
There is one more thing you must know.
Michael Bennett’s death will be blamed on an accident if Vittorio succeeds.
If that happens, Carlo will carry guilt for the rest of his life, because he will believe his silence caused it.
But Vittorio will not act alone.
He has someone inside our household.
Someone Michael trusts.
Someone named—
The letter ended.
The bottom corner had been torn away.
Sophie stared.
“Again?”
Dante looked furious.
“Someone got here before us.”
Matteo shook his head.
“No.”
They looked at him.
“The letter was like that when Elena gave it to me.”
“Then she never finished the name.”
“Perhaps she did.”
Matteo walked toward another shelf.
Removed a small wooden box.
Inside was a photograph.
Michael Bennett stood beside Mr. Russo.
Both smiling.
Sophie’s heart dropped.
“No.”
Matteo said, “Your father trusted him.”
Dante looked at the photograph.
“Russo.”
Sophie shook her head.
“He said he was trying to stop Vittorio.”
“He may have lied.”
A sound echoed from the cellar entrance.
Footsteps.
Slow applause.
Dante turned.
Vittorio Romano stood at the top of the stairs.
He was alone.
At least visibly.
“You’ve always been dramatic, Dante.”
Dante stepped in front of Sophie.
Vittorio smiled.
“And Sophie. Michael’s daughter.”
Sophie held the photograph tightly.
“You killed my father.”
Vittorio’s expression barely changed.
“That is what everyone wants to believe.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Sophie stared.
Vittorio descended one step.
“I stole money. Yes. I used Elena’s accounts. Yes. I threatened Michael.”
Dante’s voice became cold.
“But?”
“But I did not kill him.”
Sophie laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Vittorio looked at the photograph in her hand.
“I expect you to ask the correct question.”
“What question?”
“Who benefited most from Michael Bennett’s death?”
Dante’s eyes narrowed.
Vittorio smiled.
“Not me.”
“Then who?”
Vittorio looked directly at Sophie.
“Carlo Romano.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“My father?”
“He discovered Michael had copies of documents that could have destroyed the entire family.”
“You said Carlo was afraid.”
“He was.”
Vittorio stepped closer.
“Afraid enough to do terrible things.”
Sophie felt sick.
“Then why did my father write that Carlo promised to protect me?”
“Because Carlo always made promises before he broke them.”
Dante took another step forward.
“Prove it.”
Vittorio reached inside his jacket.
Dante tensed.
Vittorio slowly removed an envelope.
Placed it on a wine barrel.
“Michael’s final letter.”
Sophie stared.
“He wrote it the night before he died.”
“How did you get it?”
Vittorio smiled sadly.
“Ask Russo.”
Dante grabbed the envelope.
Inside was a single page.
Michael Bennett’s handwriting.
Sophie read the first line.
Then stopped breathing.
May you like
Sophie, if anything happens to me, Carlo Romano ordered it.
---
