The Bellini residence stood on the northern edge of Lake Como, hidden behind towering cypress trees and iron gates that had not been opened in years.
The villa was nothing like the grand Moretti estate.
It was older.
Quieter.
A place where history seemed to breathe through cracked stone walls and ivy-covered balconies.
Rain had begun to fall by the time Lorenzo parked the car.
Neither of them moved immediately.
The windshield wipers swept back and forth, cutting through the silence.
Alessia stared at the house.
"So this is where Enzo has been hiding."
Lorenzo nodded.
"He told us the Bellinis served both families for generations."
"And now he's the last person alive who knows the beginning."
Lorenzo switched off the engine.
"Or the last person willing to tell us."
Enzo Bellin
