Chapter 3 - Door Seventeen
The underground room had no record of existing.
They found it beneath the original wine cellar behind a stone wall that sounded hollow when Gabriel struck it.
The brass key fit an iron lock hidden beneath decades of mortar.
Matteo inserted it himself.
Elena stood several feet behind him holding Sofia’s hand.
Gabriel had argued that Sofia should stay upstairs.
Elena refused.
“No one separates us.”
Matteo respected that more than he wanted to admit.
The lock turned.
A narrow door opened.
Cold air breathed out from darkness.
The corridor beyond had concrete walls and old electrical wiring.
Gabriel switched on his flashlight.
“Someone has maintained this.”
Matteo touched the wall.
No dust.
The floor had been recently cleaned.
They moved slowly.
At the end of the corridor was another room.
Matteo pushed the door.
Inside were metal cabinets, two desks, an old projector, shelves of files, and a wall covered with photographs.
He stopped.
There were photographs of him.
As a child.
At school.
At twenty.
At his father’s funeral.
At business meetings.
At restaurants.
Some had been taken from hundreds of feet away.
Others looked disturbingly close.
Elena whispered, “They were monitoring you.”
Matteo walked toward the wall.
His entire life had been catalogued.
A photograph from three years earlier showed him entering Bellini Tower.
Another showed him asleep on a private jet.
He ripped it down.
“How?”
Gabriel opened a cabinet.
“Matteo.”
Inside were dozens of black folders.
Each labeled with a number.
One.
Four.
Nine.
Seventeen.
Twenty-three.
Thirty-one.
The folder marked Seventeen was empty.
Elena walked to a metal desk.
A carved black sun marked one drawer.
Her pendant fit into the indentation.
The drawer unlocked.
Inside was a videotape.
A handwritten label read:
ISABELLA BELLINI - FINAL STATEMENT
Matteo stopped breathing.
Gabriel found an old monitor connected to a tape unit.
“It might still work.”
Matteo inserted the tape.
Static appeared.
Then a woman’s face.
Young.
Elegant.
Dark hair pulled loosely back.
Matteo had seen photographs, but almost no video of his mother.
Isabella Bellini looked frightened.
Alive.
She stared directly into the camera.
“My name is Isabella Bellini. If Matteo is watching this, then I failed.”
Matteo’s hand gripped the desk.
The recording continued.
“Lorenzo believes the program is about preserving families. It isn’t. The people behind it stopped caring about bloodlines years ago. They are building leverage. Children whose identities can be rewritten. Heirs who can be replaced. Fortunes redirected through DNA, guardianship, and controlled inheritance.”
Gabriel looked at Matteo.
Elena covered Sofia’s ears gently, but the girl pulled her hands away.
Isabella continued.
“There are two children they cannot lose. Matteo is one.”
Matteo leaned closer.
“The other is a baby born inside St. Agnes Clinic under the name Project Sofia.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
Matteo turned toward her.
Sofia.
Isabella spoke again.
“The baby is not mine. But her blood contains something taken from my family line. If they succeed, they will be able to make her—or her descendants—legitimate Bellini heirs under genetic proof.”
Matteo felt sick.
Elena whispered, “That’s why Helena chose the name.”
On screen, Isabella looked over her shoulder.
Someone was outside the room.
She rushed her final words.
“I’m taking Matteo tonight. Helena will take the infant. If one of us survives, the program can still be exposed.”
The recording jumped.
Static.
Then Isabella reappeared closer to the camera.
“Matteo, if you remember nothing else, remember this.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Your father is not the man you need to fear.”
The tape ended.
Silence.
Matteo stared at the blank screen.
Gabriel whispered, “Then who?”
A slow clap sounded behind them.
They turned.
Celeste stood in the corridor.
Two armed men beside her.
She smiled.
“Your mother always did enjoy drama.”
Matteo moved in front of Elena and Sofia.
Gabriel’s hand went toward his jacket.
One of the men raised his pistol.
“Don’t.”
Celeste entered the room.
She looked almost serene.
“The unfortunate thing about dead women is that everyone believes their final words must be profound.”
Matteo’s voice was controlled.
“You killed Vittorio.”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Someone who wanted you to find this room.”
“Why?”
Celeste smiled.
“To make you suspicious.”
“Of whom?”
“Everyone.”
She glanced at Elena.
“Especially her.”
Elena stepped forward.
“You planted the clock.”
“Yes.”
“You called the men to the house.”
“Partially.”
“What does partially mean?”
“The first team was mine.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“And the second?”
Celeste looked at Sofia.
“That’s the problem.”
One of her armed men suddenly made a choking sound.
He collapsed.
A red stain spread across his collar.
The second turned.
A suppressed shot struck him in the chest.
Celeste dropped to the floor.
Gabriel pulled Matteo behind the cabinets.
Another shot hit the wall.
Elena grabbed Sofia and ducked.
Someone was firing from the corridor.
Celeste screamed, “They’re here!”
Matteo shouted, “Who?”
Celeste crawled toward him.
“The people I was trying to keep out!”
A grenade rolled through the doorway.
Gabriel kicked it back.
They threw themselves down.
The blast ripped through the corridor.
Dust filled the room.
Lights died.
Matteo heard Sofia crying.
“Elena!”
“I have her!”
Through the smoke, a figure appeared.
Tall.
Black clothing.
Mask.
Matteo lunged.
They crashed into a cabinet.
The attacker drove a knife toward his ribs.
Matteo caught his wrist.
Gabriel struck the man from behind.
The mask fell.
Elena gasped.
She knew him.
The attacker smiled at her.
“Hello, Elena.”
Her face went blank.
“David.”
Matteo twisted the knife away.
“Who is he?”
Elena looked horrified.
“My brother.”
David laughed.
“No.”
May you like
He looked toward Sofia.
“I’m her father.”
