"Bring everyone to the estate."
"Adrian, listen to me. Don't do anything until we—"
"Everyone."
He ended the call.
Isabella approached him.
"What are you going to do?"
He looked down at the notebook.
"I don't know."
It was the most honest answer he had given her.
She touched his arm.
"Whatever happens, don't become the man they expect you to be."
Adrian looked at her.
"They killed my father."
"I know."
"They used your father."
"I know."
"They put a gun to your head."
Her voice softened.
"And if you answer every crime with another crime, what will be left of you?"
He had no answer.
***
Vittorio Moretti was waiting in the dining room when Adrian returned.
He sat at the same table where they had discussed the family business two nights earlier.
A glass of whiskey stood beside his hand.
He did not appear surprised when Adrian entered.
"You're early."
Adrian closed the door.
"Where is everyone?"
"At home, I assume."
"Don't play games."
Vittorio looked up.
"Then don't ask foolish questions."
Adrian placed the notebook on the table.
Vittorio examined it.
His expression remained calm.
"Daniel kept copies."
"Yes."
"That was unfortunate."
Adrian pulled out a chair.
"Did you kill my father?"
Vittorio took a sip of whiskey.
"No."
"Did you authorize it?"
Vittorio looked at him.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then his uncle said:
"Your father was going to destroy everything."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Answer the question."
"He was going to hand over documents that would have brought the police into every company we owned. Every account. Every business. Every person who had ever worked for this family."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Vittorio placed his glass down.
"Your father believed he could make a deal with men who had spent their lives breaking deals."
"And you?"
"I believed the family had to survive."
Adrian stood.
"So you chose to sacrifice him."
Vittorio's eyes hardened.
"I chose to prevent a catastrophe."
"You ordered his death."
"I did what your father refused to do."
Adrian stared at him.
The room seemed to become very quiet.
Outside, rain tapped against the windows.
"Did you ever feel anything?" Adrian asked.
Vittorio frowned.
"What?"
"When you attended his funeral. When you stood beside my mother. When you told me that he had been a good man."
Vittorio looked away.
"Don't confuse sentiment with leadership."
Adrian gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
"You were his brother."
"I was the brother who understood what had to be done."
"You were the brother who wanted his position."
Vittorio's expression changed.
"Your father was weak."
Adrian moved closer.
"Say that again."
"He was weak. He believed that because he had money, people would respect him. Because he had a family, people would protect it. He wanted to turn the organization into something respectable."
Vittorio leaned forward.
"And I watched men laugh at him."
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"So this was about power."
"Power is the only language men like us understand."
"No."
Adrian shook his head.
"That's the language men like you use when they have nothing else."
Vittorio stood.
"You think you're different?"
Adrian said nothing.
"You have spent years pretending that your hands are cleaner than mine. You have ordered men into situations they never came back from. You have destroyed businesses, families, and entire careers."
Vittorio stepped around the table.
"Your father made you believe that being feared was the same as being respected. I made sure you survived long enough to become the man you are."
Adrian's expression remained cold.
"You made me survive so I would never question you."
Vittorio smiled.
"Perhaps."
A door opened behind them.
Marco entered with Enzo.
Both men stopped when they saw the two brothers facing each other.
Vittorio glanced at them.
"Good. Perhaps you can explain to your boss that this family is larger than his private feelings."
Marco looked at Adrian.
"What's happening?"
Adrian pointed toward the notebook.
"Ask him."
Marco examined it.
Then he looked at Vittorio.
The older man sighed.
"How disappointing."
He turned to Adrian.
"Do you intend to arrest me?"
Adrian's expression did not change.
"This isn't a courtroom."
"No. It isn't."
Vittorio reached into his jacket.
Enzo immediately moved.
But the old man did not pull out a weapon.
He removed a photograph.
He placed it on the table.
It showed a younger Lorenzo Moretti standing beside Daniel Romano.
Both men were smiling.