The footsteps downstairs were slow. Deliberate. Nico moved instantly-hand on Isabella's wrist, flashlight off, gun drawn.
He pulled her back into the shadows of the office, pressing her against the wall beside a tall filing cabinet. He held a finger to her lips, his eyes locked on the doorway. Her breath was warm against his knuckles. Too loud.
Below them, wood creaked again. A man cleared his throat. Not alone.
Isabella leaned closer to whisper, barely audible. " Security?"
Nico shook his head. "Wrong pattern. Too soft. Too careful."
He reached slowly for the drawer beside him and removed a silencer, attaching it with practiced ease. Then he whispered, "Stay behind me. Move when I say. Run if i don't make it clear."
Isabella blinked. "You're not dying in a cheap suit, Nico."
A small smirk touched his lips. " You think this is cheap?"
Before she could retort, the office door creaked open.
Nico stepped out like smoke, silent and lethal. The man coming in didn't stand a chance- he barely turned before Nico had him pinned with one hand and a pistol to his throat.
"Who sent you?' Nico growled.
The man wheezed, eyes wide. "I-I'm just here to clean up-Marco's orders-just a sweep, man, I swear"
Marco Ricci. The name landed like a knife between them.
Isabella stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Why would Marco Ricci care about an old Moretti office?"
The man shook his head rapidly," No clue. Said if we found something, burn it." that's enough.
Nico hit the man hard enough to knock him out cold, then tied him with cable wire and gagged him with duct tape from the drawer. he turned to Isabella. "We need to go. Now." But she was already pulling the flash drive from her purse.
'I want to know what's on this. tonight".
Nico hesitated. " We don't know who else is watching. We go back to the house-"
"No," she said sharply. " We go to my mother's apartment. No one knows I ever go there."
That stopped him cold. " You have a place your father doesn't know about?"
She stared at him. "Of course I do."
Twenty minutes later, they entered a sleek, high-rise building on the upper west side. No security detail. No family presence. Just clean white floors, soft light, and silence. The apartment was cold, minimalist, untouched by violence. Nico dropped into chair, finally lowering his guard.
Isabella booted up her laptop and plugged in the drive. lines of encrypted files scrolled past. Names. Transactions. Location. Dates. It wasn't just financial. it was leverage.
"This is a ledger," she whispered. "But not just Moretti money. Ricci. D'Angelo. Even....Ivanov."
Nico stood, tense. "Ivanov? As in Sergei?"
She nodded, pale now.
'My brother was keeping track of everyone. He wasn't just trying to run-he was preparing to expose everyone."
"And someone made sure he didn't"
She clicked one more folder. A video file.
They watched as Matteo sat before the camera. His face was thinner than she remembered. His voice, clear.
"If you're watching this, it means i didn't make it. And If that's the case, someone inside the Moretti family-our family-killed me."
Isabella's breath caught.
"Trust no one. Especially not father."
The screen went black.
Nico looked at her, waiting for the explosion. For the tears. for something.. But all she said was:
"THEN WE BURN THEM ALL"