Inside were several old files.
He removed one.
Daniel Romano.
Lorenzo Moretti.
Vittorio Moretti.
Three names.
One story.
He opened the file and examined the contents.
Then he looked at his assistant.
"Where is the girl?"
"At the Moretti estate."
"With Adrian?"
"Yes."
Salvatore closed the folder.
"Then the boy has made the same mistake as his father."
The assistant hesitated.
"Sir?"
"He's trying to save someone."
Salvatore walked toward the window.
"People who try to save others become very easy to control."
He turned.
"Prepare the car."
***
At three in the morning, Isabella found Adrian sitting alone in the study.
His jacket was gone.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up.
A glass of whiskey stood untouched beside him.
She approached quietly.
"You're still awake."
He looked up.
"I didn't want to wake you."
She sat opposite him.
"Did you speak to Vittorio?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"He admitted everything."
She lowered her eyes.
"About my father?"
"Yes."
"Was he involved in his death?"
Adrian nodded.
Isabella looked toward the window.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then she asked:
"Do you think my father suffered?"
Adrian's expression changed.
"I don't know."
"Do you think he was afraid?"
He reached across the desk.
She took his hand.
"I wish I could have spoken to him one more time."
Adrian squeezed her fingers.
"I know."
She looked at him.
"Do you wish you could speak to yours?"
"Every day."
The answer was almost inaudible.
Isabella moved closer.
Adrian looked down at their joined hands.
"My father used to tell me that a man could inherit a fortune, a house, a business, even a name. But he could never inherit another man's conscience."
She listened.
"I didn't understand what he meant."
"What do you think he meant now?"
Adrian looked at the photograph of Lorenzo on the desk.
"That every generation has to decide what it is willing to carry forward."
Isabella touched his cheek.
"And what will you carry?"
He closed his eyes.
"Not this."
She leaned forward and kissed him.
It was not a passionate kiss.
It was something quieter.
A promise that neither of them had to face the past alone.
For several minutes, they remained together in the dim light.
Then Adrian's phone rang.
Marco.
He answered.
"What?"
"Salvatore is moving."
Adrian straightened.
"Where?"
"Toward the city."
"With whom?"
"His personal security team. We intercepted a message suggesting he's heading for the Bellgrave."
Adrian looked at Isabella.
"Why?"
"There's something else. The hotel manager has disappeared."
Adrian stood.
"Find him."
"Already trying."
"And Marco?"
"Yes?"
"Keep Isabella at the estate."
She heard him.
"Adrian."
He looked at her.
"Don't."
"I have to."
"He's coming for you."
"Then hiding me won't make this disappear."
Adrian walked toward her.
"You're not going back into that building."
"Then I won't."
She picked up the black notebook.
"But I'm not leaving the truth behind either."
***
By dawn, the Bellgrave Hotel had become the center of a quiet investigation.
Police vehicles stood outside.
Guests were questioned.
Hotel employees were instructed not to speak to reporters.
The footage from the sixth-floor corridor had already been copied to several secure locations.
Adrian arrived with Marco and Enzo.
He wore a dark coat over his suit.
The hotel manager was waiting in a private conference room.
He was a thin man with a nervous expression.
Adrian entered.
"Sit down."
The manager obeyed.
"Where is the recording from the sixth-floor cameras?"
"With the police."
"Who disabled the other cameras?"
"I don't know."
Adrian placed a photograph on the table.
The bald man from the corridor.
"Do you know him?"
The manager looked at it.
Then quickly looked away.
"Never seen him."
Marco placed another photograph beside it.
A younger man standing beside Salvatore D'Angelo.
The manager swallowed.
Adrian watched him.
"Try again."
The manager's hands trembled.
"I was paid."
"By whom?"
"I don't know his name."
"Describe him."
"Older. Silver hair. Expensive watch."
Adrian said nothing.
The manager looked at him.
"He said he represented the hotel owners."
"Which owners?"
"He didn't tell me."
"How much?"
"Twenty thousand."
Adrian nodded.
"For what?"
"To disable the cameras."
"Anything else?"
The manager hesitated.
"He said a woman would arrive. He wanted her taken to a private room."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Was there a recording?"
The manager reached into his pocket and removed a small USB drive.
"I kept a copy."
Marco took it.