Chapter 49 The architect
Rafael
Vittorio walked down the aisle toward us slowly. Each step echoed in the empty church.
He stopped a few feet away from Flora.
"May I?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he reached toward her face.
Flora nodded, though I could see her hands shaking.
Vittorio's weathered hand touched her cheek gently. Tears filled his eyes.
"My Eva," he whispered. "My beautiful girl."
"I'm not Eva," Flora said softly. "I'm Lucia. Flora. Her twin."
"I know," Vittorio said. His voice broke. "But you have her face. Her eyes. It's like my daughter has returned from the grave."
He pulled his hand back and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.
"Forgive me," he said. "I did not expect this to be so difficult."
"Mr. Morelli," I started carefully. "About Antonio's confession…"
"Silence," Vittorio said sharply. His eyes turned cold as they fixed on me. "I will speak. You will listen."
I clenched my jaw but nodded.
Vittorio reached into his jacket. I tensed, ready to push Flora behind me if he pulled out a weapon.
But it wasn't a gun.
It was a small leather-bound book. Eva’s diary.
How did he get his hands on it?
"This belonged to my daughter," Vittorio said. "It was recovered recently at Rafael's estate. For years, I had imagined what was daughter had gone through. And when I was told there was a dairy, I sent someone to get it quickly. I could not bring myself to read it since I got it."
He opened it to a bookmarked page.
"But last night," he continued, "after hearing Antonio's confession, I forced myself to read every word."
My heart pounded. Vittorio had seen it. He had seen every details of how Eva wanted to divorce me.
"In her final entry," Vittorio said, his voice thick with emotion, "written the day before she died, Eva wrote about her life with you."
Flora's breath caught beside me.
"She wrote about how confused she was," Vittorio continued. "How you were sometimes kind, sometimes harsh. How she never knew which version of you she would wake up to each day."
My chest tightened with shame.
"Mr. Morelli, I…" I started.
"I said silence!" Vittorio's voice echoed through the church. "Do you know what else my daughter wrote?"
I wanted to nod, but I shook my head instead.
"She wrote that she wanted to divorce you," Vittorio said. Each word was like a knife. "That she had contacted a lawyer. That she was planning to leave you. She was going to use the chaos as cover to disappear."
My knees nearly buckled, feigning ignorance. "She was going to leave me?"
"Yes," Vittorio said. "She wrote, and I quote, 'I cannot live in this cage anymore. Rafael loves me, but his love suffocates. He is kind one moment, controlling the next. I never know which man I married. Tomorrow, I will be free. Tomorrow, I will finally breathe.'"
Tears streamed down my face. "I’m sorry I drove her away."
"You did," Vittorio said without mercy. "But she also wrote something else."
He flipped to another page.
"She wrote about Antonio," Vittorio said. "About how he had been following her more closely than usual in those final days. About how he asked strange questions about her plans. About her lawyer."
"Antonio knew she was leaving," Flora said quietly.
I was surprised at that one. How had I missed it.
"Yes," Vittorio confirmed. "And Eva wrote that she suspected something was wrong. That Antonio seemed nervous. She wrote that she planned to confront him after she left you. To ask him why he was watching her."
"But she never got the chance," I whispered.
"No," Vittorio said. "That same night, during the attack, she died. Shot by Antonio before she could escape."
The church fell silent except for the flickering of candles.
"My daughter never got her freedom," Vittorio said. "She died in your cage, Rafael Valserro. And that is something you will have to live with."
"I know," I said. My voice broke. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
"Sorry doesn't bring her back," Vittorio said.
"I know that too," I said. "But I'm trying to be different. Trying to be better. Flora can tell you…"
"I don't care about Flora," Vittorio interrupted. "Not yet. Right now, I only care about justice for Eva."
He closed the diary.
"However," Vittorio said, "Eva also wrote that she didn't believe you knew about her bloodline. She investigated quietly. Asked questions. Searched your office when you were away. And she found nothing linking you to the conspiracy."
Relief flooded through me for a brief moment.
"She wrote that you were a victim too," Vittorio continued. "Manipulated into a marriage you didn't understand. That doesn't excuse how you treated her. But it does mean you didn't conspire to use her."
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Don't thank me," Vittorio said coldly. "I'm only telling you what she wrote. My personal feelings are... complicated."
He turned to Flora.
"And you, child. Do you know who your parents were? The people who raised you?"
Flora straightened her shoulders. "Thomas and Marie Rossi. They died in a car accident when I was eighteen."
Vittorio's expression darkened.
"There was no accident."
Flora went pale. "What?"
"I had my people investigate," Vittorio said. "Thomas and Marie were paid actors. Hired to raise you until a specific date. And when that date came, they were eliminated. Designed like an accident."
"No," Flora whispered. "They loved me. They were my parents."
"They were employees," Vittorio said harshly. "And when their contract ended, someone decided they knew too much. So they were killed."
Flora's legs gave out. I caught her, holding her upright.
"Who killed them?" I demanded. "Who's behind all this?"
"That," Vittorio said, "is what I intend to find out. Because whoever orchestrated this conspiracy used my daughter as a pawn. And for that, they will pay."
"Do you have any leads?" I asked.
Vittorio hesitated. Then nodded slowly.
"One," he said. "Eva mentioned a name in her diary. Someone she planned to meet with after leaving you."
"Who?" Flora asked, her voice barely audible.
"Dr. Helena Vasquez," Vittorio said.
My blood turned to ice.
Helena?
Who was waiting for us outside?
Could she be the real architect of all this.
"We need to leave," I said urgently. "Now."
"Why?" Vittorio asked.
"Because Dr. Helena Vasquez is waiting for us outside this church," I said. "She drove us here."
Vittorio's eyes widened. "Then you've walked into a trap."
As if on cue, the church doors slammed shut.
The sound of locks clicking echoed through the space.
"Indeed you have," Helena's voice came from somewhere above us. "But not the trap you're expecting."
I looked up. Helena stood in the choir loft, looking down at us.
And she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood a woman I recognized.
Isabella.
But Isabella was supposed to be in the hospital.
Yet there she was, standing perfectly fine, holding a gun.
"Hello, Rafael," Isabella said, her voice clear and strong. "Surprised to see me talking?”