Chapter 55

The silence in the safehouse was no longer comforting-it was suffocating. The revelation of their fathers' partnership had shattered everything they thought they knew, leaving only questions and a creeping sense of betrayal.

Then came the knock.

A single, sharp rap against the heavy door.

Isabella and Enzo froze.

They weren't expecting anyone. No one should have known they were here.

Enzo reached for his gun. Isabella did the same. The unspoken rule in their world was simple-if someone came unannounced, they weren't a friend.

The knock came again, more insistent this time.

Isabella exchanged a wary glance with Enzo. "Did you call anyone?" she whispered.

His jaw tightened. "No. You?"

She shook her head.

Slowly, they moved toward the door, their steps silent. Isabella's heart pounded against her ribs, her breath steady but sharp.

Enzo positioned himself on one side of the door while Isabella stood on the other, both ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.

"Who is it?" Enzo demanded, voice cold and lethal.

A pause. Then, a voice-smooth, calm, but carrying an edge of urgency.

"You've been looking for answers," the person outside said. "I have them. But you won't like what you find."

Isabella's fingers tightened around the grip of her gun. A part of her wanted to ignore whoever was out there. But another part, the one desperate for the truth, knew they couldn't.

Enzo's hand hovered over the lock. He hesitated for only a second before twisting it.

The door creaked open.

Standing there, illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlight, was a man dressed in dark clothing, his sharp eyes flicking between them. He held no weapon, but there was something about him that screamed danger.

Isabella didn't lower her gun. "Who the hell are you?"

The man smirked, stepping just inside. "Someone who knows what really happened between your families."

Enzo shut the door behind him, locking it again. "Start talking."

The stranger glanced between them, as if assessing how much he should say. Then, in a voice laced with meaning, he said, "Your fathers didn't just know each other. They built an empire together."

The dim candlelight flickered over the wooden table as Isabella and Enzo sat across from the stranger, their guns still within reach. The tension in the room was thick, the air heavy with unspoken questions.

"You expect us to believe our fathers were partners?" Isabella challenged, her voice steady but cold.

The man leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "Believe what you want. But I'm not here to convince you-I'm here to tell you the truth."

Enzo crossed his arms. "Then start from the beginning."

The stranger exhaled, glancing at the photograph still resting on the table. "Your fathers weren't just businessmen, and they weren't just rivals. They were something far worse-co-conspirators."

Isabella's stomach twisted. "Conspirators in what?"

"Something that never should have existed," he said, his voice lower now. "An operation so dangerous that when it fell apart, it turned them into enemies."

Enzo's brows furrowed. "What kind of operation?"

The stranger hesitated before finally answering.

"A network. Smuggling. Trafficking. Not just weapons, not just money. People."

Isabella's breath caught in her throat.

No.

She shook her head. "No. That's impossible."

But beside her, Enzo was silent. Too silent.

Isabella turned to him. "You don't actually believe this, do you?"

Enzo's jaw was clenched, his eyes unreadable. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

The stranger leaned back. "That's the problem with the truth," he said. "It doesn't care whether you believe it or not."

The safehouse had already proven to hold secrets, but when the stranger mentioned the vault, Isabella wasn't prepared for just how deep those secrets ran.

"Basement," he had said simply. "It's not just a storage space. It's where they kept everything they didn't want anyone to find."

Enzo found the entrance first, hidden beneath an old rug in the far corner of the room. When he pried open the hatch, a rush of cold air seeped up, carrying the scent of dust, dampness, and something else-something old.

"Of course," Isabella muttered. "Another hidden door. Because this night wasn't terrifying enough already."

Enzo smirked, though there was little humor in it. "Shall we?"

Together, they descended the narrow staircase, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. The underground vault wasn't large, but it was filled with shelves, locked cabinets, and rusted metal cases stacked against the walls.

Then they saw it.

In the center of the room, beneath a thick layer of dust, was a single locked case.

The symbol on it sent a chill down Isabella's spine.

It matched the one from the documents upstairs.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the lock. "Help me open it."

Enzo knelt beside her, gripping the rusted latch. With one firm yank, it snapped open.

The lid creaked as Isabella pushed it back, revealing stacks of old documents, ledgers, and-

Photographs.

More of them.

She picked up the first one, her throat tightening as she took in the image.

A shipment. A warehouse. A group of people lined up, their faces hollow, their eyes filled with terror.

The next photo showed something worse.

A meeting. A deal being made.

And in the center of it all, their fathers-smiling, shaking hands.

Isabella dropped the picture as if it burned her. "They they did this?"

Enzo was already sifting through the files, his expression unreadable. But his hands were shaking.

One document caught his eye. He pulled it out, scanning the names listed inside.

Then he saw it.

His father's name. Repeated over and over.

Next to it-Isabella's father's name.

Isabella took a step back, her entire world tilting. "All this time," she whispered, her voice hollow. "This war wasn't about power. It wasn't about revenge. It was about covering up the truth."

Enzo's grip tightened around the paper. He exhaled slowly, his voice dark, heavy with realization.

"My father was never just a businessman, was he?"