Chapter 2 - The Red Folder Behind the Wall

The archive lights were off when Emma stepped inside.

Only the emergency strip along the floor was glowing.

Belini stood at the far wall in her red gown, one hand inside an open cabinet.

The other held a small lighter.

Emma stopped.

“So that’s what you came back for.”

Belini turned.

For half a second, neither woman moved.

Then Belini smiled.

“You should have stayed fired.”

Emma looked at the folder in her hand.

Red leather.

Old.

Scuffed.

The same folder Isabella had searched for on the security footage.

Emma lifted the small brass key Isabella had given her six weeks earlier.

“You were looking for this too.”

Belini’s smile disappeared.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“You have no idea what that opens.”

“Neither did you.”

Belini took one step closer.

Emma did not move.

She had spent nearly two years in the Moretti estate learning when people like Belini expected fear to do the work for them.

Tonight, it didn’t.

“You hurt Mrs. Moretti for this folder,” Emma said.

Belini’s voice cooled.

“I protected this family from an old woman who no longer understands consequences.”

“She understands pain.”

“That isn’t the same thing.”

Emma looked toward the dark ceiling camera.

The red status light was gone.

Belini noticed.

“I disabled the feed.”

“You disabled one feed.”

Belini’s eyes narrowed.

Emma held up the key.

“Isabella told me something when she gave me this.”

“What?”

“She said, ‘If the west hall ever goes dark, look behind the saints.’”

Belini glanced toward the far wall.

Too quickly.

Emma saw it.

Three old religious paintings hung above the archive shelves.

The middle one showed Saint Michael.

Emma crossed toward it.

Belini moved.

Emma reached the painting first and pulled it aside.

A narrow brass keyhole appeared in the paneling.

Belini grabbed Emma’s wrist.

Emma twisted away.

The lighter fell.

The archive door opened.

Luca stood there.

Dante behind him.

Neither man looked surprised to see Belini.

That frightened her more than anger would have.

Luca’s gaze went to the red folder.

Then to Emma’s wrist.

Then to the lighter on the carpet.

“Step away from her.”

Belini released Emma.

“Luca, she followed me in here.”

“Yes.”

He walked inside.

“I watched her.”

Belini went still.

“The feed was black.”

“The archive feed.”

Dante leaned against the doorway.

“The corridor wasn’t.”

Emma inserted Isabella’s key into the hidden lock.

It turned.

A section of paneling clicked open.

Inside was a shallow compartment.

One envelope.

One old photograph.

And a second red folder.

Belini’s face emptied.

Luca saw it.

“So you had the wrong one.”

Emma opened the compartment fully.

The photograph slid forward.

She caught it.

A young Isabella stood outside a church.

Beside her was a teenage girl with dark hair and Emma’s eyes.

Emma stopped breathing.

On the back, one name had been written in faded ink.

Elena Carter.

Her mother.

Emma looked at Luca.

Then at Belini.

Belini was no longer watching the photograph.

She was watching the sealed envelope behind it.

Across the front, in Vittorio Moretti’s handwriting, were six words:

For Isabella. When Emma finally returns.

Luca’s expression changed.

Emma looked at him.

“How did your father know my name?”

No one answered.

Belini took another step backward.

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And Emma understood that the folder was not the secret.

She was.