Chapter 22: The Midnight Duel
The air in Milano Centrale was thick with the smell of old iron and the electric hum of the high-voltage lines. Standing in the fluorescent glare of the locker aisle, Élise felt like a deer caught between two high-speed trains. In one hand, she gripped the singed leather satchel the weight of the Moretti secrets pulling at her arm. In the other, the silver key that had unlocked Pandora's box.
Adriano stood twenty feet to her right, his chest heaving, his silk shirt damp from the sprint through the station. To her left, Pedro leaned against a pillar, his face shadowed, a dark smirk playing on his lips that didn't hide the cold fire in his eyes.
"Give me the bag, Élise," Adriano commanded. His voice wasn't the "Ice CEO" tone she knew; it was raw, desperate, and laced with a terrifying authority. "He is using you. He has been feeding you lies since the moment he moved in next to you."
"Lies?" Pedro laughed, the sound echoing harshly off the vaulted ceiling. "Is the birth certificate a lie, Adriano? Is the fact that you wiped Sofia from the family records a lie? Tell her about the Vigna del Sole. Tell her why the ground there is salted and the vines are black."
Élise looked at Adriano, her eyes searching his for a denial. "Who is Sofia, Adriano? Your mother said the last woman you two fought over didn't survive. Was she your sister?"
Adriano's face contorted. For a second, the mask of power completely crumbled, revealing a hollowed-out grief that made Élise's heart ache despite her fear. "She was my life," Adriano whispered, his voice cracking. "And Pedro... he destroyed her to get to me."
"I destroyed her?" Pedro lunged forward, his calm demeanor snapping. "You were the one who made the deal! You were the one who chose the company over her safety! I tried to take her away, to save her from the 'Moretti Legacy,' and you called the police on your own blood!"
"I called them to save her from your recklessness!" Adriano roared.
The two brothers began to close the distance, the space between them crackling with ten years of repressed violence. Adriano reached for Élise's waist to pull her behind him, but she stepped back, clutching the bag to her chest.
"Stop!" she cried. "Both of you! I am not a prize, and I am not a pawn! You've both lied to me. You," she pointed at Pedro, "manipulated my life from day one. And you," she looked at Adriano, "kept me in a cage because you were afraid I'd find out you aren't the perfect hero you pretend to be."
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the main concourse. Adriano's security team was closing in, but they weren't alone. From the other side, several men in plain clothes men who looked like they belonged to Pedro's shadow world emerged.
The station was no longer a public space; it was a battlefield.
"We're leaving," Adriano said, his eyes never leaving Pedro. He grabbed Élise's wrist, his grip like a vice. "Now."
"She's stayin' with me, brother," Pedro hissed, reaching for her other arm.
The confrontation turned physical. Adriano shoved Pedro back with a brutal force, and for a moment, the two most powerful men in Élise's world were a blur of dark suits and flying fists. It was a messy, desperate brawl no refined corporate strategy, just the raw hatred of two brothers who had lost everything.
"Run, Élise!" Pedro shouted as he took a blow to the jaw.
She didn't need to be told twice. She turned and bolted toward the taxi stand, the leather satchel bouncing against her hip. She could hear Adriano shouting her name, a sound of pure agony, but she didn't look back. She dove into a waiting black cab.
"Where to, Signorina?" the driver asked, startled by the woman in the expensive, torn dress.
"Away from here," she gasped. "The Brera district. Hurry!"
As the taxi sped away, she looked out the rear window. She saw Adriano standing on the curb, his silhouette framed by the massive stone arches of the station. He wasn't chasing her. He was just standing there, looking smaller than she had ever seen him, as the rain began to fall over Milan.
She opened the satchel. Beneath the photos and the birth certificate, she found one more thing: a small, velvet-lined box. Inside was a signet ring with the Moretti crest, but it was snapped in half.
And a note in a woman's delicate handwriting: "The shadow is only there because of the light. Find the light at the Vigna del Sole."
Élise realized then that the internship was over. The game had changed. She wasn't an intern anymore; she was the investigator of a crime that had been buried for a decade.