Chapter 8 - THE VAULT
Enzo reached the vault first.
He locked himself inside.
The steel door could resist fire for two hours.
But Alessandro knew something Enzo apparently did not.
His father had built a second entrance.
A narrow access passage behind the wine cellar.
Alessandro and Marco entered through it.
They found Enzo stuffing documents into a leather bag.
He froze.
Alessandro stood ten feet away.
“No more running.”
Enzo laughed.
“You always did enjoy an entrance.”
“Put the bag down.”
“Or what?”
Marco stepped forward.
Enzo raised both hands.
“Relax.”
He dropped the bag.
Alessandro looked at his cousin.
“Why?”
Enzo’s smile vanished.
“You really have to ask?”
“Yes.”
“For once, I want to hear you say it.”
Enzo’s face twisted.
“Your father chose you.”
“There it is.”
“He chose you for everything.”
“You were reckless.”
“You disappeared for months.”
“You nearly destroyed three deals.”
“And still, Uncle Vittorio looked at you like the sun came out of your mouth.”
Alessandro said nothing.
Enzo continued.
“I fixed problems.”
“I handled accounts.”
“I cleaned up after you.”
“And what did I get?”
“A seat at the table.”
“You got fifteen percent of the company.”
“I wanted what I earned.”
“You wanted what wasn’t yours.”
Enzo laughed bitterly.
“That company should have been mine.”
“No.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“You wanted my father to love you the way he loved his son.”
Enzo’s face changed.
For one second, the resentment looked like grief.
Then it hardened again.
“Isabella understood.”
“Isabella understood your bank account.”
Enzo smiled.
“And you think she loved you?”
That landed.
Alessandro did not show it.
Enzo saw it anyway.
“She came to me before your engagement.”
“What?”
“She wanted information about your assets.”
Alessandro’s expression froze.
“She was never mine first.”
Enzo’s smile widened.
“She was never anyone’s.”
“She wanted the winning side.”
Alessandro wanted to hit him.
Instead, he looked at the bag.
“What were you taking?”
Enzo’s confidence returned.
“Something your father hid from you.”
Marco searched the bag.
Inside was the trust.
Old ledgers.
And a sealed envelope addressed to Alessandro in Vittorio Romano’s handwriting.
Alessandro stared at it.
His father had been dead five years.
He opened the envelope.
The first sentence changed the room.
May you like
Alessandro, if you are reading this because Enzo has betrayed you, then I failed both of you.
Enzo stopped smiling.
