Elena refused to let the broken glass sit like a symbol of fear.
Daniel stayed the night.
Not for romance
For protection.
By morning, exhaustion clung to both of them — but so did determination
"They were looking for evidence," Daniel said, holding the cassette tape carefully.
"Which means this matters."
Elena stared at it. "We only heard one side."
"You think there's more?"
"There has to be."
They brought the tape back to the attic and listened again — this time more carefully.
Static.
Isabella's voice.
Confession.
Then the abrupt cut.
Daniel rewound it.
Listened again.
And then he heard it.
"Wait," he said sharply.
Near the end — after Isabella's final words — there was something faint.
Not static.
Another voice.
Elena leaned closer.
The tape hissed.
Then—
A man's voice.
Low. Urgent.
"We can't leave her there. Bellini will never agree."
The recording distorted, but the words were clear enough.
Bellini.
Not just aware
Involved.
Elena felt the room tilt.
"That wasn't my grandfather," she whispered.
Daniel shook his head slowly. "No."
The voice was deeper. Sharper.
Older.
They played it again.
"We'll handle it. No police. Not if we want this contained."
Elena's pulse pounded.
That wasn't a frightened young couple covering up an accident.
That was strategy.
That was coordination.
Daniel turned off the player.
"This wasn't just panic after a fall," he said quietly.
Elena met his eyes.
"It was a decision."
Outside, a car engine started in the square.
Both of them froze instinctively.
For the first time, they understood something terrifying.
The cover-up wasn't born in that cellar.
It was organized after.
And whoever helped bury Lucia—
Was still powerful enough to burn buildings and break doors.