The morning after the fire, the vineyard smelled like smoke and loss.
Elena stood near the blackened remains of the cellar, trying to understand how something untouched for decades could suddenly become a target.
Daniel joined her quietly.
"They didn't know we took the box," he said.
"No," Elena replied. "But they knew we were close."
Back at the bookstore, Elena couldn't focus. Every sound outside made her look up. Every customer felt like they were watching too carefully.
That afternoon, her grandmother called her into the kitchen.
"You've been asking about 1987," her grandmother said without turning around.
Elena froze.
"I found things," she answered carefully.
Her grandmother sighed — a tired, heavy sound.
"There are parts of the past that protect us by staying hidden."
"Protect who?" Elena asked softly.
Instead of answering, her grandmother walked to an old cabinet and removed a small envelope.
"This was never sent," she said.
Elena's fingers trembled as she opened it.
The handwriting wasn't Isabella's.
It was her grandfather's.
Isabella,
We can't undo what happened. But if you leave, I'll handle the rest. No one will know the truth. Not about Lucia. Not about the land. I promise you that.
The letter ended abruptly.
No signature.
No date.
Elena felt the air leave her lungs.
"He knew she was leaving," she whispered.
Her grandmother's eyes were filled with something Elena had never seen before.
Guilt.
"He loved her," she said quietly. "But love doesn't erase fear."
Daniel read the letter over Elena's shoulder.
"So she didn't disappear," he said slowly. "She left. And he covered everything."
"Not alone," Elena added.
The fire. Ricci's warning. The missing investigation details.
There were still others.
Elena folded the letter carefully.
"Who else knew?" she asked her grandmother.
For a long moment, silence filled the room.
Then her grandmother spoke one name.
And the sound of it made Daniel go completely still.
"Mayor Bellini."