He smirks without humor.
"Perfect night for secrets."
They slip outside.
The storm swallows them instantly, the cold wind biting, lightning tearing across the sky like fractured bone. Maria leads them through the lower gardens, keeping low beneath hedges and stone archways.
Twice, Luca stops them.
once because he hears footsteps,
and once because he sees a flashlight cutting across the path.
Isabella's heart pounds.
Storm or not… Antonio's men are still patrolling.
But they don't stop.
They can't.
Not tonight.
Finally… the greenhouse appears.
Tall glass panes. Iron frames. Choked with vines and shadows.
The same greenhouse where Isabella's mother used to spend hours smiling, singing, pruning roses with gentle hands.
Maria steps toward the rusted door and motions Isabella closer.
"Your mother sealed it the day she hid the ledger. No one but you can open it."
Luca tenses.
"How?"
Maria turns to Isabella.
"With your blood."
