Elena couldn't sleep.
Ricci's words echoed in her mind.
There were others involved.
Near midnight, she heard something unusual.
Sirens.
In Seravalle, sirens were rare.
She rushed to her window.
A faint orange glow flickered in the distance — near the vineyards.
Her vineyards.
"Elena?" Daniel's voice called from outside.
He had been staying at a small guesthouse nearby.
She ran downstairs and met him in the street.
The glow was growing brighter.
By the time they reached the vineyard's edge, smoke filled the air.
The old cellar.
Flames were licking through the wooden door.
Firefighters worked quickly, but the structure was small and dry from years of neglect.
Elena's heart pounded violently.
"That's not an accident," Daniel said under his breath.
She knew it too.
The cellar had stood untouched for decades.
And now, only days after they found the buried box—
It was burning.
Elena grabbed Daniel's arm. "The contracts… the beam… the floor—"
"All gone," he finished grimly.
The fire crackled loudly, swallowing the past piece by piece.
Someone knew they had been digging.
Someone was watching.
When the flames finally died down, only blackened stone and ash remained.
A firefighter approached them. "Looks like faulty wiring," he said casually.
"There hasn't been electricity in that cellar for thirty years," Elena replied sharply.
The man hesitated. "Well… maybe an old spark."
Daniel's eyes met hers.
No one believed that.
As smoke drifted into the night sky, Elena realized something chilling—
The tape was safe.
The contracts were safe.
But whoever set that fire didn't know that.
Which meant one thing.
They were afraid.
And afraid people make dangerous choices.
For the first time, this wasn't just about uncovering history.
It was about surviving it.