PART 4 – The Forgotten Note from the Past
The paper was yellowed and smelled of musty paper and lavender, the scent my mother had always worn. The handwriting was sharp and rushed, as if scribbled on paper in total panic. “If you are reading this, Emma – even if you are still too little to understand it now – know that I am not who you think I am. The car accidents, the official reports, they are all smoke screens to protect you and your mother from the Moretti family. They will never forgive me for breaking away from their empire. If you ever find this key, trust no one named Bellini... and seek the truth in San Michele.” My breath caught in my throat.
The Moretti family. The same last name as the older woman in our store. The same family supposedly acting as a VIP customer for twenty years, but in reality having a dark connection to my father's past. "What does it say?" Elena asked softly, seeing how pale my face had become. I handed her the note. As she read, I saw her eyes widen in disbelief.
"This... this changes everything," Elena stammered. "It's no coincidence that Mrs. Moretti chose your cash register of all places to use that card. She knew you worked there. It was a test. A warning." "Or an invitation," I replied, turning the silver key over in my hand. The metal felt cold against my palm. "They wanted to see if I would recognize the card.
And I did. That card was in the photo in this box, hidden beneath the bottom." I pulled the false bottom of the iron chest upward. There lay a second object: a small black USB flash drive and a handwritten list of codes. "What do you think is on this?" Elena asked, pointing to the USB drive. "There’s only one way to find out," I said, immediately walking over to my old laptop on the desk.
I plugged the small flash drive into the USB port. The screen flickered for a moment. A password-protected folder appeared. A text bar popped up asking for a PIN code. Not numbers, but a sentence. I looked at my father's note. At the bottom was a cryptic sentence written: The day the sun disappeared. "The solar eclipse," I suddenly remembered. My mother had occasionally talked about it.
The day they met. I typed in the date: 11-08-1999 . With a soft click, the folder opened. On the screen appeared a list of digital documents, bank statements, and... a video file. My hands shook so much I scarcely dared click the mouse. I clicked the video file and held my breath. The image cleared. A man appeared on the screen. He was sitting in a dark room, illuminated by only a single desk lamp.
His hair was gray, his face marked by wrinkles and deep scars, but the eyes... those eyes I knew from thousands of photos. It was my father. Marco Bellini. And when he began to speak, I heard the words that blew up my entire reality. “If you are watching this, Emma, it means I am no longer here, or you have finally gotten close enough to the truth. Whatever you do... never go to the villa on Lake Como. They know you are alive.” Suddenly the laptop screen went black.
Not due to a dead battery, but through external computer control. In the distance, somewhere in the hallway of the apartment complex, I heard heavy steps approaching. And then someone knocked hard three times on the front door.
