chapter four
1544 Words
Elena barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Marco's voice.
There are things about our family you don't understand.
It had been the same sentence all night.
She didn't know what bothered her more—the fact that Marco was hiding something or the fact that he seemed genuinely frightened of whatever that something was.
By morning, she had made a decision.
She was going to find out.
“Elena!”
She looked up from her breakfast.
Her mother stood in the doorway, holding a cup of tea.
“You're unusually quiet.”
“I'm fine.”
Her mother studied her.
“You're a terrible liar.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“I learned from Marco.”
Her mother's expression changed for half a second.
It was small.
Almost invisible.
But Elena noticed.
There it was again.
That strange reaction whenever she mentioned her brother.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You did it again.”
“Did what?”
“Looked like you knew something.”
Her mother sighed.
“Elena, not everything needs an explanation.”
“That's exactly what people say when they're hiding something.”
Her mother sat across from her.
“Your father and I wanted you to have a normal life.”
Elena frowned.
“What does Dad have to do with this?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
Her mother reached across the table and took her hand.
“Your father loved you very much.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“I know.”
The conversation ended there.
But Elena was no longer willing to let it go.
---
At the Angelino estate, Lorenzo was having a similar conversation.
Except his wasn't with family.
It was with Matteo.
“Tell me everything you found.”
Matteo placed several documents on the desk.
“Marco Rossi has no obvious criminal record.”
Lorenzo looked through them.
“But?”
“But his financial history doesn't make sense.”
“Explain.”
“There are companies registered under different names. Some disappeared years ago. Others were transferred to him shortly after his father's death.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“Could be legitimate.”
“Could be.”
Matteo placed another document on the desk.
“But there's more.”
Lorenzo looked at it.
A photograph.
An old photograph.
His expression changed.
He recognized the man standing beside Marco's father.
His own father.
“What is this?”
“Taken about fifteen years ago.”
Lorenzo stared at the photograph.
His father was standing beside several men.
One of them was Marco's father.
And another was a man Lorenzo knew very well.
Damiano Vitale.
Lorenzo's fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“From an old archive.”
“Who else knows?”
“No one.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Find everything about the Rossi family.”
Matteo nodded.
“And Lorenzo?”
He stopped.
“Be careful.”
Lorenzo looked back.
“About what?”
Matteo's expression was serious.
“Whatever connects your father to Elena's family.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
---
Elena spent the afternoon at the studio.
She was trying to paint, but every brushstroke felt wrong.
She eventually put the brush down.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown: You deserve to know the truth about Lorenzo.
Elena stared at it.
Her heart beat faster.
Another message arrived.
Unknown: Ask him about his father.
She typed immediately.
Elena: Who are you?
No response.
She waited.
Nothing.
She deleted the conversation.
But this time, she didn't feel calm afterward.
Someone was deliberately trying to make her suspicious of Lorenzo.
The question was why.
---
That evening, Lorenzo called her.
Elena stared at his name on her screen for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
“Are you busy?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She smiled slightly.
“You always sound like you're giving orders.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“I'll work on it.”
She laughed.
There was a pause.
Then Lorenzo said, “Would you have dinner with me?”
Elena blinked.
“Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“That isn't an explanation.”
“I wanted to see you.”
She became quiet.
Lorenzo waited.
Finally, she said, “Okay.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
“I'll send someone to pick you up.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I can drive myself.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
There was silence.
Then she heard something that surprised her.
A quiet laugh.
“Fine.”
Elena smiled.
“I'll see you later.”
She ended the call.
For several seconds, she simply stared at her phone.
Then she smiled again.
She hated that she was smiling.
---
That night, Elena arrived at the restaurant wearing a simple black dress.
It wasn't one of the expensive dresses Sofia had encouraged her to buy.
She wanted to feel like herself.
Lorenzo was already waiting.
He stood when she approached.
“You look beautiful.”
Elena's cheeks warmed.
“Thank you.”
He pulled out her chair.
She sat.
“You look less intimidating tonight.”
“That's disappointing.”
She laughed.
“I didn't say you looked harmless.”
“Good.”
Dinner began easily.
They talked about art.
Her gallery.
His businesses.
Music.
Travel.
Lorenzo asked questions and actually listened to the answers.
Elena noticed.
Most people waited for their turn to speak.
He didn't.
“You really want your own gallery,” he said.
“Yes.”
“What would it look like?”
She smiled.
“I've imagined it a thousand times.”
“Tell me.”
So she did.
She described the high ceilings, the white walls, the sunlight, the paintings hanging in carefully chosen places.
As she spoke, Lorenzo watched her.
Not the way men at parties watched beautiful women.
He was listening.
Actually listening.
“You've thought about every detail,” he said.
“It's my dream.”
“What if someone offered to make it happen tomorrow?”
Elena shook her head.
“I'd refuse.”
“Why?”
“Because then it wouldn't be mine.”
Lorenzo studied her.
“You're stubborn.”
“Very.”
“I noticed.”
She smiled.
“And you're controlling.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Am I?”
“You told me you were sending someone to pick me up.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You don't even know me.”
His expression softened slightly.
“I know enough.”
Elena didn't know what to say to that.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Then her phone rang.
Marco.
Her smile disappeared.
She answered.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Dinner.”
“With who?”
Elena glanced at Lorenzo.
“Lorenzo.”
Silence.
Then Marco's voice became cold.
“Come home.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
The call ended.
Elena stared at her phone.
Lorenzo noticed.
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I don't know.”
She stood.
“I should go.”
Lorenzo stood too.
“I'll take you.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I said no.”
He stopped.
She looked at him.
“I appreciate that you're trying to protect me, but I don't need you to decide everything for me.”
Something changed in his eyes.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No anger.
Just acceptance.
Elena was surprised.
“Goodnight, Lorenzo.”
“Goodnight.”
She walked away.
Lorenzo watched her leave.
Matteo approached from behind.
“You let her walk out alone?”
Lorenzo didn't look at him.
“She asked me to.”
Matteo stared at him.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Lorenzo?”
Lorenzo gave him a cold look.
“Shut up.”
Matteo smiled.
“There he is.”
---
Elena arrived home twenty minutes later.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
She found Marco in the study.
He was standing behind the desk.
“Sit down.”
Elena frowned.
“What happened?”
Marco looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said:
“Who exactly is Lorenzo Angelino?”
Elena's heart skipped.
“What do you mean?”
Marco opened a drawer.
He removed an old photograph.
He placed it on the desk.
Elena picked it up.
Her eyes widened.
There was her father.
Standing beside Lorenzo's father.
And beside them was a much younger Damiano Vitale.
Elena looked at Marco.
“What is this?”
Marco didn't answer.
“Why is Dad standing with them?”
Still nothing.
“Marco.”
He finally looked at her.
“Because our family has known the Angelinos for a very long time.”
Elena's fingers tightened around the photograph.
“How?”
Marco's expression was unreadable.
“That,” he said quietly, “is something you're not ready to know.”
Elena stared at him.
For the first time, she realized something terrifying.
Maybe Lorenzo wasn't the only person keeping secrets from her.
Maybe her entire family was.
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