A tall man stood near the reception desk.
Luca.
He recognized her immediately.
"Miss Rossi."
She stopped.
"Is he awake?"
"Yes."
"Then I want to speak to him."
"He's expecting you."
Luca led her toward the private elevator.
Elena hesitated.
"Why does he know my father?"
Luca looked at her.
"Because your father saved his life once."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"Ask Mr. Moretti."
The elevator doors opened.
They entered.
As the doors closed, Elena looked at her reflection in the polished metal.
She looked tired.
Afraid.
But beneath both feelings was something stronger.
A determination she had not felt since the day her father died.
The elevator stopped on the private floor.
Luca opened the door.
Alessandro was sitting upright in bed, wearing a white hospital shirt. His hair was slightly disheveled, and the tattoos on his neck were more visible without his usual suit.
He looked less like a king.
More like a man who had almost died.
His eyes moved toward Elena.
"Miss Rossi."
She stopped near the door.
"Mr. Moretti."
"Please. Sit."
"I'd rather stand."
Alessandro nodded.
"Fair enough."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he looked at her hands.
"You saved my life."
"I did what anyone would have done."
"No. Most people watched."
Elena's expression hardened.
"Some people were waiting for you to die."
Alessandro studied her.
"Did you recognize someone?"
"I recognized the symbol on your ring."
He looked down at his hand.
"The black rose."
"My father drew it before he died."
Alessandro became very still.
"What did he tell you?"
"That it was nothing good."
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then Alessandro removed the ring.
He placed it on the bedside table.
"Your father worked for my family."
"I know."
"He was an honest man."
"Then why is he dead?"
Alessandro looked directly at her.
"Because he discovered that someone in my family was stealing money and selling information."
"Who?"
He did not answer immediately.
Elena stepped closer.
"Was it Vittorio?"
Alessandro's expression gave her the answer.
She laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
"Elena—"
"Don't."
She turned away.
"You don't get to say my father's name like you cared about him."
"I did care."
"Then where were you when he died?"
Alessandro said nothing.
"Where were you when my mother had to identify his body? Where were you when the police told us it was an accident? Where were you when I had to leave school because my family had no money?"
Her voice broke.
She stopped.
Alessandro lowered his eyes.
"I have no excuse."
"Good."
She looked at him again.
"Because I don't want one."
He nodded.
"Your father came to me eleven years ago. He had evidence against Vittorio. I promised to protect him. I failed."
"Did you know he was going to be killed?"
"No."
"Did you order it?"
"No."
"Did your brother?"
Alessandro looked toward the window.
"Yes."
The answer was so quiet that Elena almost missed it.
She stared at him.
"Then why is he still alive?"
"Because I was a coward."
Alessandro's eyes returned to hers.
"I told myself that killing my brother would destroy the family. I told myself I could find another way. I told myself that one day he would understand what he had done."
He paused.
"Those were excuses."
Elena looked at the man in the hospital bed.
For the first time, she understood that power did not always make people fearless.
Sometimes it only gave them more elaborate ways to hide their guilt.
"Why did he poison you?" she asked.
"Because he believes I'm about to expose him."
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"Then expose him."
"It's not that simple."
"Nothing is simple when people like you are involved."
Alessandro almost smiled.
"You're not afraid of me."
"I am."
"Then you hide it well."
"I'm afraid of men who think money makes them untouchable. I'm afraid of people who can destroy a family and still sleep peacefully. I'm afraid of what your brother might do if he discovers I know something."
She looked at him.
"But I'm not going to pretend you are innocent."
Alessandro nodded.
"Fair."
Elena picked up her bag.
"Have you finished asking your questions?"
"One."
She waited.
"Why did you come to the Belladonna?"
Her face changed.
"I needed a job."
"That isn't the whole answer."
"No."
She hesitated.
Then she reached into her bag and removed a folded piece of paper.
It was an old photograph.
Antonio Rossi stood beside a younger Alessandro Moretti outside a warehouse.
Both men were smiling.
On the back, in her father's handwriting, were four words.
A MAN WHO OWES US.
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
His expression changed completely.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was inside my father's old notebook."
"Do you have the notebook?"
"No. It disappeared after his funeral."
Alessandro stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered:
"Vittorio knows about it."
Elena frowned.
"How?"
"Because that photograph was taken the night your father gave me the original shipping records."
"Where are they?"
Alessandro looked at her.