Chapter 3 - The Island Where Dead Men Waited
Adrian Moretti did not shout.
He did not break furniture.
He did not threaten his crew.
His anger became silence.
Marco had seen that silence before.
It was worse.
“Five minutes,” Adrian said.
“For what?”
“To get control of my yacht.”
Marco pressed a cloth against his bleeding temple.
“The navigation system—”
“Destroy it.”
Marco stared.
Adrian continued.
“Cut the automated controls. Manual engines. Manual steering.”
“That’ll damage half the system.”
“I can buy another yacht.”
Marco almost smiled.
Almost.
“Understood.”
Adrian walked toward the rear deck.
The whiskey remained exactly where he had left it.
He picked up the glass.
Looked at it.
Then poured the contents into the ocean.
Twenty minutes later, the Imperatrice was under manual control.
But Adrian did not turn away from San Aurelio.
He ordered the captain to continue toward it.
Marco confronted him on the bridge.
“That’s what they want.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re giving it to them?”
“No.”
Adrian checked his pistol.
“We’re letting them believe they’re getting it.”
San Aurelio appeared shortly before midnight.
Black cliffs.
Dense trees.
One old stone villa overlooking a narrow private harbor.
No lights.
No signs of life.
But Adrian knew better.
The yacht stopped a mile offshore.
Marco assembled six armed men.
Adrian chose three.
“Only three?”
“Anyone waiting for us expects an army.”
Marco understood.
“You’re going through the north path.”
Adrian nodded.
His father had shown it to him when he was twelve.
A hidden landing beneath the cliffs.
Used during storms.
Used during war.
Used when Carlo Moretti did not want anyone to know he was arriving.
Thirty minutes later, Adrian, Marco, and three guards reached the island by inflatable boat.
They climbed the stone stairs.
The old villa appeared through the trees.
Adrian remembered running there as a child.
His mother laughing.
His father smoking cigars on the terrace.
Vittorio teaching him chess.
Memories became weapons when you discovered they were built on lies.
A light appeared upstairs.
Marco pointed.
“Movement.”
Adrian nodded.
They separated.
Adrian entered through the kitchen.
The door was unlocked.
Dust covered everything.
Except the floor.
Fresh footprints.
He followed them.
Hallway.
Dining room.
Study.
The study door was open.
Inside, someone had prepared a table.
One chair.
One lamp.
One laptop.
Adrian approached.
The screen turned on automatically.
A video began.
Elena appeared.
Alive.
Sitting in a chair.
Hands tied.
Her face frightened but conscious.
A masked man stood behind her.
“Adrian.”
The voice was digitally altered.
“You came.”
Adrian looked toward the camera.
“Release her.”
The masked man laughed.
“You sound like your father.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“You knew him.”
“I knew everyone.”
“Who are you?”
“That question has been poisoning your family for fourteen years.”
The screen changed.
Old surveillance footage appeared.
Carlo Moretti.
The night he died.
Adrian leaned closer.
His father was entering the restaurant.
A second angle appeared.
Across the street stood Vittorio.
Adrian’s uncle.
Watching.
Then another angle.
Luca Ferraro sat inside a car.
The attackers arrived.
Carlo was shot.
Luca drove away.
Vittorio walked calmly in the opposite direction.
Adrian’s breathing slowed.
The masked voice continued.
“Your father wasn’t killed by enemies.”
Adrian said nothing.
“He was killed by family.”
The video switched back to Elena.
“Where is she?”
“Closer than you think.”
Adrian heard something.
A faint knock.
Behind the wall.
He moved.
Bookshelf.
Old.
Heavy.
He remembered.
His father had once shown him a hidden room.
Adrian pulled a bronze handle disguised as part of the molding.
The shelf opened.
Elena was inside.
Alone.
Adrian rushed to her.
He cut the ropes.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Who was he?”
“I still didn’t see his face.”
Adrian helped her stand.
She grabbed his jacket.
“He said something.”
“What?”
“He said you would kill the wrong man if I didn’t tell you everything.”
Adrian stared.
“Everything about what?”
Elena took a shaking breath.
“My brother.”
“What about him?”
“He isn’t my brother.”
Adrian waited.
“He was adopted.”
“That matters why?”
“Because his biological father was Luca Ferraro.”
Silence.
Adrian’s expression changed.
“How do you know?”
“I found documents five years ago.”
“That’s why you disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Where is your brother now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Rossi.”
Marco entered.
“We’re not alone.”
Adrian turned.
“How many?”
“At least four.”
Gunfire erupted outside.
Marco moved toward the window.
“Five. Maybe six.”
Adrian looked at Elena.
“Hidden passage?”
She shook her head.
Adrian remembered one.
Behind the fireplace.
His father had loved secrets.
They entered the tunnel moments before bullets shattered the study windows.
The passage descended beneath the villa.
Elena held Adrian’s hand.
Not because she needed guidance.
Because she was afraid he would disappear.
At the bottom, they reached an underground chamber.
Old storage room.
Concrete walls.
Metal shelves.
Marco illuminated the space.
Then stopped.
Adrian followed his gaze.
Boxes.
Dozens.
All marked with Moretti Shipping labels.
Adrian opened one.
Passports.
Hundreds.
Another contained weapons.
Another held financial records.
Elena whispered, “This is what I found.”
Adrian looked at the dates.
Some shipments were recent.
Last month.
Someone had been using San Aurelio continuously.
Marco found another door.
Locked.
He broke it.
Inside was a small office.
Modern equipment.
Computers.
Satellite communication.
Adrian approached the desk.
A framed photograph sat beside the monitor.
He picked it up.
Elena gasped.
The photograph showed Carlo Moretti.
Sofia Moretti.
Luca Ferraro.
Vittorio.
And a teenage boy.
Adrian.
But someone else stood beside them.
A younger man Adrian barely remembered.
“Who is that?” Elena asked.
Adrian stared.
“Gabriel Santoro.”
“Who?”
“My father’s accountant.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died in a fire.”
“When?”
“Two months before my father.”
Elena looked uncomfortable.
“Adrian…”
“What?”
“The man who threatened me five years ago said his name was Gabriel.”
Adrian slowly turned.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
Marco examined the photograph.
“Maybe someone used the name.”
Adrian looked toward the computers.
One screen suddenly activated.
Live camera feed.
A man walked into the villa upstairs.
Older.
Silver hair.
Expensive dark suit.
No mask.
Adrian stopped breathing.
Elena looked at him.
“You know him?”
Adrian stared at the screen.
“Yes.”
Vittorio Moretti entered the study.
Adrian’s uncle.
The man who had practically raised him.
The man who had supposedly been in Sicily.
Vittorio looked directly into the hidden camera.
And smiled.
“Adrian,” his voice came through the underground speakers.
“I wondered how long it would take you.”
Adrian stepped toward the microphone.
“You killed my father.”
Vittorio sighed.
“Your father killed himself the moment he tried to leave.”
“Leave what?”
“The business.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Carlo wanted legitimacy. Hotels. Shipping. Real estate. He wanted to abandon everything our family built.”
“So you murdered him.”
“I preserved the family.”
“You preserved yourself.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Perhaps.”
Elena stepped closer.
“What does Luca Ferraro have to do with this?”
Vittorio’s smile disappeared.
“Luca became sentimental.”
“What happened to him?”
“Still asking the wrong question.”
Adrian gripped the desk.
“What is the right question?”
Vittorio looked directly at the camera.
“Ask Elena why Luca Ferraro’s son has been working for you for seven years.”
Elena went pale.
Adrian turned toward her.
“What?”
“I didn’t know.”
Vittorio laughed.
“Oh, Elena.”
She shook her head.
“Daniel told me he moved to Canada.”
“No.”
Vittorio leaned closer to the camera.
“Daniel Rossi never went to Canada.”
A second video appeared beside Vittorio.
Security footage from Adrian’s yacht.
A man in a black security uniform walked toward the camera.
Removed his cap.
Adrian recognized him immediately.
One of his guards.
A man named Daniel Reeves.
He had worked for Moretti security for seven years.
Elena covered her mouth.
“Daniel…”
Her brother.
The man who had apparently infiltrated Adrian’s organization.
The man whose biological father had vanished after Carlo Moretti’s murder.
Then Daniel looked into the camera and said:
“If Adrian is watching this, tell him I’m sorry.”
A gunshot sounded.
The video went black.
May you like
Elena screamed his name.
And Vittorio smiled.
