"We need to review the security footage," I tell Alessandro.
Alessandro nods grimly. "Can you do that, Adriano?"
“Yes.”
I rest my hands on my hips, feeling bone tired. "Whoever did this, they're still here. Still watching us."
“I’ll go get that footage,” Adriano says, heading to the door.
“I’ll go help Uncle Salvatore.” Valentina follows him out, leaving me alone with Alessandro.
“We should look for that file Pyotr wanted,” I say.
Alessandro rubs his hand over his face. “That can wait?—”
“That could help us find out who is fucking with the family. Pyotr wanted it badly enough to kidnap Enzo. That didn’t turn out and tonight, Uncle Matty is dead.”
He nods. “You’re right.” He pulls drawers out from the desk, searching through papers.
I go to the row of file cabinets and begin looking through the files, realizing the search is going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
There are so many pieces of paper and we don’t know what we’re looking for.
As the hours pass, I grow increasingly frustrated.
I slam the final cabinet shut, not finding the file that could explain everything.
"It has to be here somewhere," I growl, running my hands through my hair. "Pyotr wouldn't have risked kidnapping Enzo over nothing."
Alessandro looks up from the stack of folders he's sorting. "You're sure Katerina said it was a file? Not a ledger or a thumb drive?"
"A file. Something physical." I glance over to my father’s portrait hanging above the desk behind Alessandro.
The man is dead, and yet I still feel his judgement, his disappointment in me.
"Wait." Alessandro turns to look at the portrait too. "The safe.” Moving to the portrait, he lifts it from the wall, revealing a small wall safe I'd forgotten existed.
"You know the combination?" I ask.
Alessandro shakes his head. "I tried his birthday, Mom's birthday, all the usual suspects. Nothing worked."
I stare at the keypad, thinking. "Try 1-0-2-5.”
"What's that?"
"October 25. The day he exiled me."
Alessandro's eyebrows rise, but he punches in the numbers.
The safe clicks open.
Inside lies a single manila folder, unmarked except for a small black dot in the corner.
Alessandro pulls it out, lays it on the desk, and we both stare at it like it might explode.
When he finally opens it, we find a list of names.
Next to each name are dates, locations, and brief notes in our father's precise handwriting.
