He had been shown documents proving that Daniel had transferred millions into foreign accounts.
He had been told that Daniel had sold Lorenzo's location.
He had been convinced that his most trusted man had murdered his brother.
But there had been one detail nobody could explain.
Daniel had never taken his daughter.
Elena.
She had been four years old.
For years, Alessandro told himself that Daniel had abandoned his family because he was a coward.
He never investigated what happened to Sofia.
He never asked whether she had survived.
And he never discovered that Vincent had personally arranged for Daniel to disappear.
Back in the restaurant, Matteo stared at the recorder.
"Play it."
Elena looked at Alessandro.
"Are you sure?"
The old man nodded.
She pressed the button.
A burst of static filled the small speaker.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Older recordings always carried a strange quality. The voices sounded close enough to touch, yet they belonged to people who might already be dead.
"Alessandro, if you're listening to this, it means I failed to reach you."
The old man's face tightened.
Daniel continued.
"I don't know what Vincent has told you. I don't know whether he has already shown you the documents. But whatever you do, don't believe him."
Matteo turned toward Vincent.
The adviser remained perfectly still.
Daniel's voice continued.
"Lorenzo did not betray you. He was trying to stop the shipments from being used to finance the Bellandi war. He discovered the accounts. Vincent knew he was going to speak to you."
A pause.
Then a faint sound, as though Daniel had moved the recorder closer to his mouth.
"He killed your brother, Alessandro."
The recording crackled.
"I tried to bring you the proof. But Vincent found out. He has men watching Sofia and Elena. I cannot go home. I cannot trust the police. And I cannot trust anyone inside the organization."
Elena closed her eyes.
She had heard this recording many times.
But hearing her father's voice inside the restaurant where the Moretti family was sitting felt different.
It was as though twenty years had disappeared.
Daniel continued.
"If anything happens to me, protect my daughter. She knows nothing about this. She deserves a life that doesn't belong to men like us."
There was another pause.
Then came the sentence that made Alessandro grip the edge of the table.
"One last thing. The man who gave the order to kill Lorenzo was not acting alone. Someone in your own family authorized the payment."
The recording ended.
Silence.
Nobody moved.
Matteo slowly turned toward Vincent.
"Is it true?"
Vincent sighed.
He looked almost disappointed.
"Your father should have listened to Daniel twenty years ago."
Alessandro's head turned.
"Vincent."
The adviser met his eyes.
"Alessandro, you were always too sentimental."
"Answer my son."
Vincent looked at Matteo.
"Your uncle was going to destroy everything your grandfather built. He wanted to cooperate with federal investigators. He wanted to turn over the accounts. He believed he could walk away and leave the rest of us to face the consequences."
"Did you kill him?"
Vincent shrugged.
"Your uncle made a choice."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"That wasn't my question."
Vincent finally looked at him.
"Yes."
The answer was almost casual.
Alessandro stepped away from the table.
"Why?"
Vincent gave a small smile.
"Because he was weak."
"He was my brother."
"And I was protecting you."
The old man stared at him.
Vincent continued.
"You had no idea what was happening inside the organization. Lorenzo was going to hand everything to the authorities. He was going to destroy the family, destroy your inheritance, destroy the businesses we spent decades building."
"So you murdered him."
"I made a decision."
"And Daniel?"
Vincent's smile disappeared.
"Daniel became a problem."
Elena stepped forward.
"You killed my father."
Vincent looked at her.
"Your father should have stayed out of things he didn't understand."
Elena's hands began to tremble.
"You took him away from me."
"Your father chose his own path."
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"He chose to protect his family. You took him because he wouldn't help you kill innocent people."
Vincent gave a quiet laugh.
"You're repeating a story told by a dead man."
Elena looked at him.
"Then why are you so afraid of that recording?"
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, he looked directly at the guards.
The restaurant had become a trap.
Two men were positioned near the entrance.
Another stood beside the private dining area.
Vincent had brought them.
But Alessandro had brought his own.
Matteo understood the situation before anyone said a word.
"Nobody leaves," he ordered.
One of the guards immediately moved toward the door.
Vincent stood.
"You don't give orders here."
Matteo looked at him.
"Apparently, neither do you anymore."
Vincent reached beneath his jacket.
The movement was small.
Almost invisible.
But Matteo saw it.
He grabbed the old silver cane leaning beside his father's chair and struck Vincent's wrist before the weapon could clear his jacket.
The pistol fell onto the carpet.
Two guards rushed forward.
One restrained Vincent.
The other secured the weapon.
Alessandro stood motionless.
He was staring at the man who had been beside him for nearly forty years.
"How many?" he asked.
Vincent struggled against the guard.
"How many what?"
"How many people did you kill to keep this secret?"
Vincent said nothing.
Alessandro's voice became quieter.