Chapter 8 - THE RECORDING NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO HEAR
The missing memory card appeared three days later.
Not in the music room.
Not in Isabella's belongings.
But inside an old piano bench.
Rosa found it while preparing the library for cleaning.
She brought it to Dante immediately.
He called his attorney.
The card was preserved for forensic examination.
Investigators recovered several audio files.
Most were damaged.
But one recording remained partly intact.
Dante listened with his attorney and a fire investigator.
I wasn't present.
He told me afterward.
The recording began with Elena's voice.
Calm.
Firm.
“Isabella, you cannot keep doing this.”
Then another voice.
Isabella.
“You're destroying this family.”
Elena answered.
“I'm protecting Leo.”
A pause.
Then Isabella said:
“Dante will never believe you.”
The recording crackled.
A sharp electronic alarm sounded.
Then Elena shouted:
“Get away from the panel!”
The audio ended.
Dante sat in silence after hearing it.
His attorney looked at him.
“We need to reopen the investigation.”
Dante nodded.
“Yes.”
The fire investigator examined the old reports.
Several details didn't match.
The alarm had been disabled before the fire.
The electrical fault appeared to have originated near the recording console.
And the original security logs were incomplete.
Someone had altered the records.
Dante looked at the investigator.
“Could it have been deliberate?”
The man hesitated.
“We can't conclude that yet.”
Dante nodded.
“Then find out.”
He didn't threaten anyone.
Didn't demand a convenient answer.
He waited for evidence.
That evening, I found him sitting alone in the garden.
He looked exhausted.
I approached.
“Can I sit?”
He nodded.
For a while, we watched the lake.
Then he whispered:
“I failed her.”
I looked at him.
“Elena?”
He nodded.
“I trusted the wrong people.”
I took a breath.
“You didn't know.”
He shook his head.
“I should have.”
I studied him.
“Guilt isn't the same as responsibility.”
He looked at me.
I continued.
“You can take responsibility for what you do now.”
His eyes filled.
“What if the truth destroys Leo?”
I shook my head.
“Leo deserves age-appropriate honesty and support. Hiding everything won't protect him.”
Dante looked toward the house.
Then whispered:
“I'm afraid.”
I took his hand.
“I know.”
He squeezed my fingers.
For the first time, the feared Dante Moretti looked like an ordinary man.
A grieving husband.
A frightened father.
Someone who had spent years believing power could prevent pain.
And was finally learning it couldn't.
Later that night, investigators requested an interview with Isabella.
She refused.
May you like
By morning, she had disappeared.
And so had Leo's favorite blue stones.
