Chapter 2 - The Man Her Father Warned Her About
Sophia did not speak during the drive back to the safe residence.
Rain had started over Rome, tapping against the tinted windows in a rhythm that seemed almost deliberately calm.
Nothing about the last hour had been calm.
Her mother was a princess.
Her father might have survived years longer than Sophia had believed.
The house she had spent her childhood mourning might not have been destroyed completely.
And the final message from her father had contained Matteo’s family name.
Duca.
The same name that had been attached to Matteo for his entire life.
The same family that had built an empire in ports, construction, logistics, security, and darker businesses nobody mentioned in ordinary company.
Sophia turned toward him.
“Why didn’t you tell me your family was mentioned in the archive?”
Matteo’s face remained unreadable.
“I had never seen that document.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“You are a man who knows everything.”
“No.”
His answer came so quickly that she looked at him.
“I know how to find people,” Matteo said. “That doesn’t mean I know how to read the dead.”
Sophia looked away.
The words should not have moved her.
They did.
When they reached the residence, Matteo’s security chief, Enzo, met them at the entrance.
His face was pale.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
Matteo stopped.
“What?”
“One of the cars assigned to the lower gate was tampered with.”
“By whom?”
“We don’t know.”
Enzo handed him a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a small silver button.
Sophia recognized it instantly.
Her mother had owned a coat with buttons shaped exactly like that.
She remembered touching them as a child.
“Where did you find it?”
“Inside the car.”
Sophia felt cold.
Matteo noticed.
“Upstairs,” he told her.
“I’m not a child.”
“I know.”
“Then stop ordering me around.”
His eyes met hers.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
She laughed once without humor.
“Apparently everyone has been trying.”
She walked upstairs.
Matteo waited until she was gone before turning to Enzo.
“Lock the residence.”
Enzo lowered his voice.
“Should we call the old council?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Matteo looked at the silver button.
“Because someone already knew we were coming.”
That night, Sophia sat alone in the guest bedroom.
She opened the crown.
She had seen it hundreds of times before without understanding what it meant.
Her mother had kept it in a velvet pouch at the back of a wardrobe.
When Sophia was twelve, she had asked why it was important.
Her mother had only said, “Because sometimes a small thing carries a large memory.”
Sophia had thought it was a sentimental answer.
Now she wondered whether every word from her mother had contained a warning.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Matteo entered carrying a folder.
He placed it on the table.
“I searched my private archive.”
Sophia remained by the window.
“And?”
“I found records concerning the night your family disappeared.”
She turned.
“Are you going to tell me everything?”
“Yes.”
He opened the folder.
“The official story says King Alessandro Venturi and Queen Elena were killed in a coordinated attack. Your mother disappeared that same night. Your father was presumed dead.”
“And the truth?”
“Three separate witness statements claim a child was removed from the palace.”
Sophia’s pulse quickened.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“Who removed me?”
“That part was concealed.”
Matteo slid another photograph forward.
It showed a younger version of Marcella.
Sophia stared at her mother.
“She looks afraid.”
“She was.”
“Do you have anything about my father?”
Matteo hesitated.
“His body was never identified.”
Sophia lowered herself into the chair.
“Then why did my mother tell me he was dead?”
“Because she may have believed that was the only way to keep you safe.”
Sophia looked at the final photograph.
A man stood in the background behind palace guards.
Dark hair.
Sharp face.
One hand resting on a cane.
She recognized him.
“Who is that?”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“Victor Orsini.”
The name felt familiar.
Sophia searched her memory.
“Your rival?”
“One of them.”
“What does he want?”
Matteo closed the folder.
“To control what remains of the Venturi succession.”
Sophia stood.
“Why?”
“Because the restored house would gain legal rights to several properties, foundations, and assets frozen after the collapse.”
“So it’s about money.”
“At first.”
“And now?”
Matteo looked at her.
“Now it’s about legitimacy.”
He took a breath.
“Whoever controls the heir controls the narrative.”
Sophia crossed her arms.
“And where do you fit?”
Matteo did not answer immediately.
“My family handled security for the Venturi court before the collapse.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“So your father knew mine.”
“Yes.”
“And my father wrote, ‘Trust no one from the Duca family.’”
“Yes.”
“And you still want me to trust you.”
“I want you to verify me.”
Sophia frowned.
Matteo reached into his coat.
He withdrew an old brass key.
“This was found in the archive of my grandfather.”
He placed it on the table.
“It was sealed beside records from the night your family disappeared.”
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because it was labeled with your mother’s name.”
Sophia looked down.
For the first time, she noticed a tiny engraving on the key.
M.V.
Marcella Venturi.
She picked it up.
The metal was warm.
“Where did you get this?”
“My grandfather kept it locked away.”
“Why?”
“He left one note.”
Matteo turned the key over.
Sophia read the words engraved on the back.
WHEN THE QUEEN RETURNS, OPEN THE ROOM OF EIGHT STARS.
She stared at Matteo.
“Where is that room?”
“Somewhere beneath my family’s old estate.”
Sophia’s fear returned.
“You said your family’s estate.”
“Yes.”
“So my father warned me against your family, and now the only remaining clue to my mother is hidden under your family’s house.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds absurd.”
Matteo almost smiled.
“Welcome to my life.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then asked the question neither of them had addressed.
“If you knew there was a missing heir, why did you hire me?”
Matteo’s face became still.
“I didn’t.”
Sophia frowned.
“What?”
“You were recommended.”
“By whom?”
“A woman who claimed to have worked with my aunt.”
“Who?”
Matteo pulled another document from the folder.
The signature was blurred.
But the initials were visible.
E.V.
Sophia’s breath stopped.
“Elena Venturi.”
“My grandmother’s name was Elena too,” Matteo said. “But this signature isn’t hers.”
Sophia sat down again.
“Someone sent me to you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We need to find out.”
Before either could say more, the lights went out.
The room went black.
Enzo shouted from the corridor.
“Boss!”
Three gunshots cracked from somewhere downstairs.
Matteo moved instantly.
He pushed Sophia behind the bedframe as another shot tore through the door.
“Stay here.”
Sophia grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
“I’m not hiding while people shoot at us.”
He stared at her.
Then another impact struck the hallway wall.
Matteo pulled her to the floor.
“Fine.”
He drew his weapon.
“Then stay beside me.”
The next minutes became a blur of footsteps, shouting, shattered glass, and gunfire.
Matteo moved through the corridor with frightening precision.
Sophia followed, breathing hard.
At the bottom of the stairs, a masked intruder turned toward them.
Matteo raised his gun.
The man dropped something instead of firing.
A white envelope.
Then he ran through the broken window.
Matteo’s security men chased him.
Sophia picked up the envelope.
The front contained no name.
Only a white lily.
She opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
YOUR FATHER DID NOT WRITE THAT WARNING.
Sophia looked at Matteo.
He took the paper from her.
His face hardened.
On the back was another line.
ASK WHO BENEFITS FROM MAKING YOU FEAR THE DUCA FAMILY.
Matteo slowly raised his eyes.
Someone wanted them divided.
Someone had spent years preparing the perfect lie.
May you like
And suddenly the question was no longer whether Matteo could protect Sophia.
It was whether he could protect her from the person who had been controlling her entire life.
