Marco was angry.
Not the loud kind.
Not the kind that shattered furniture or started fights.
This was worse.
The quiet kind.
The kind that settled deep in his chest and refused to leave.
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Chiara’s words echoed in his head.
The portrait.
The estate.
Adriano.
Everything seemed to lead back to that stranger.
And Marco hated things he couldn’t explain.
Beside him, Davide walked quietly.
The younger boy had barely spoken ever since his brother, Adriano and Chiara came out of the Veraldi estate.
Not that Marco blamed him.
The place had unsettled even them.
And they refused to tell him anything.
Still.
The silence irritated him.
“You’re staring.”
Davide blinked.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Davide sighed.
“You look like you’re planning to punch somebody.”
Marco snorted.
“Maybe I am.”
That earned a small smile.
Only a small one.
But it was enough.
The smile disappeared quickly.
“Do you think he knows?” Davide asked.
Marco didn’t need to ask who.
Adriano.
The name alone was becoming exhausting.
“I don’t know.”
“Chiara doesn’t think he’s lying.”
Marco rolled his eyes.
“Chiara thinks she can fix everyone.”
Davide frowned.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s true.”
Davide said nothing.
Which usually meant Marco had gone too far.
Again.
The lights of the Marino estate appeared ahead.
Warm golden lanterns illuminated the stone walls.
Normally, the sight brought comfort.
Tonight it didn’t.
The gates stood open.
Waiting.
Like always.
Marco pushed through them without slowing.
Davide followed.
The house was unusually quiet.
Most of the servants had already retired for the evening.
Only a few candles remained lit throughout the halls.
Marco headed toward the staircase.
Then stopped.
Light spilt from beneath a door at the far end of the corridor.
The study.
His uncle’s study.
At this hour?
Marco frowned.
Without thinking, he changed direction.
Davide followed.
The door stood partially open.
Inside, Enzo sat behind the large oak desk.
Several documents were spread before him.
Old documents.
Very old.
The yellowed edges were visible even from the doorway.
Enzo was so focused, he didn’t immediately notice them.
His eyes moved quickly across the pages.
Searching.
Comparing.
Studying.
Then Marco stepped forward.
“What are those?”
The reaction was immediate.
Enzo gathered the papers at once.
Too quickly.
The movement lasted only a second.
But Marco noticed.
So did Davide.
The documents disappeared into a leather folder.
Closed.
Hidden.
Gone.
Enzo looked up.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Nothing important.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
“Because they’re boring.”
Marco laughed.
A short sound.
Without humor.
“That’s a terrible answer.”
Enzo merely leaned back in his chair.
“I’m tired.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“And you’re asking questions that don’t concern you.”
The room grew quiet.
Marco stared.
Enzo stared back.
Neither looked away.
Eventually, Davide broke the tension.
“Have you heard from Mother?”
Silence.
Marco closed his eyes briefly.
Of course.
Of course, Davide would ask.
He asked every time.
Every chance he got.
The hope never seemed to die.
Even after all these years.
Enzo’s expression softened slightly.
“A little.”
Davide brightened.
“Really?”
“She sent word.”
“When is she coming home?”
The silence that followed lasted a second too long.
Marco noticed.
Davide noticed too.
Enzo folded his hands.
“Not yet.”
The light vanished from Davide’s face.
“Oh.”
Marco looked away.
Something bitter twisted inside him.
The same thing it always did whenever there was a conversation about her.
Davide stared at the floor.
Trying not to look disappointed.
Trying and failing.
The sight irritated Marco.
Not because of Davide.
Because of her.
“She’s not my mother.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
The room froze.
Davide lowered his head slightly.
Enzo sighed.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“Enough.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“She left.”
“Marco.”
“She always leaves.”
The bitterness surprised even him.
But once it started, he couldn’t stop.
“Every year.”
His voice sharpened.
“Every excuse.”
“Every promise.”
“Every letter.”
“She’s always gone. She never stays.”
Davide stared at him.
Hurt flickering across his face.
Marco hated it instantly.
But the words were already out.
Too late to pull them back.
Enzo stood slowly.
His chair scraped softly against the floor.
“That’s enough.”
The tone changed.
Not angry.
Dangerous.
Marco recognised it immediately.
The warning beneath it.
The conversation was over.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Enzo exhaled.
Long and slow.
“Go get some sleep.”
Neither boy moved.
His gaze shifted between them.
Finally settling on Marco.
“What happened tonight?”
Marco hesitated.
The portrait flashed through his mind.
The estate.
The shadows.
Adriano.
For a second, he considered telling him everything.
Then he remembered the papers.
The way his expression had changed.
And suddenly—
Marco wasn’t sure why.
But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“Nothing.”
Enzo studied him.
Clearly unconvinced.
But after a moment, he nodded.
“Goodnight.”
The dismissal was obvious.
Marco turned first.
Davide followed.
Neither spoke as they left the study.
The door closed behind them.
The click echoed softly through the corridor.
And for a while, Enzo remained still.
Listening.
Waiting.
Until he heard their footsteps disappear upstairs.
Only then did he move.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He crossed the room and locked the study door.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
The folder returned to the desk.
He opened it again.
Inside were records.
Maps.
Council notes.
Old reports.
Documents nobody else should have possessed.
His eyes moved toward a particular page.
A map of southern Valdoro.
The cliffs.
The ruins.
The tunnels beneath them.
His expression darkened.
Something was wrong.
He knew every document in this collection.
Every page.
Every mark.
Every secret.
And one page was missing.
His stomach tightened.
A cold feeling settled beneath his ribs.
Impossible.
He searched again.
Nothing.
The page was gone.
Someone had taken it.
The realisation made him stand abruptly.
His chair scraped backwards.
No. No, no, no.
Not now.
Not after twenty years.
His gaze drifted toward the map.
Toward the location hidden beneath the cliffs.
Then toward the faint traces of dirt near the corner of his desk.
Fresh dirt.
Recently disturbed.
Enzo stared.
His heartbeat slowed.
Not from relief.
From certainty.
Someone had found it.
Maybe not everything.
Not yet.
But enough.
Enough to become dangerous.
He moved toward the window.
Valdoro stretched beneath the moonlight.
Peaceful.
Sleeping.
Unaware.
For twenty years, he had protected this town.
Protected it from old mistakes.
From old dangers.
From truths that should have remained buried.
And now—
Those truths were moving again.
Awakening.
The shadows of the past had begun to stir.
Enzo’s reflection stared back at him in the glass.
Older than before.
More tired than he liked to admit.
His fingers tightened against the windowsill.
For twenty years, he had buried the truth beneath Valdoro.
Now, for the first time—
He feared it was beginning to dig itself back up.
Hi everyone.
So sorry I haven’t been posting consistently.
I promise I will be by the end of this month.
I hope you all like the story, and I would really love to see your comments on it.
Thank you.