Lorenzo didn't flinch at Dad's words.
“He'll find it himself.”
“I said no.” Dad insisted.
“Then let him look for it himself.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Where, Dad?”
Dad looked at me. “Alessa.”
“Where?”
Several seconds passed in silence.
Finally, Dad walked toward the old cabinet at the back of the room. He opened one of the bottom drawers and took out a small key I had never seen before.
He unlocked the bottom of the cabinet.
A hidden compartment opened behind a wooden panel.
I was startled. “How long has there been a compartment there?”
“Since before you were born.”
I moved closer.
Dad took out an old folder whose color had faded to brown. There was no D'Averrano emblem on the outside, only handwriting that had almost faded away.
A. D'A.
I took it from Dad's hand. “Whose is this?”
“Open it.”
I opened the clasp.
The first page contained a list of names and dates I didn't immediately recognize. Some of the names had been crossed out, while others had a small mark beside them.
I turned the page.
Then the next.
Until finally, I found a sentence.
I stopped there.
“What is this?”
Dad didn't answer.
I read it again.
The Lady has the right to determine family bonds, safeguard the line of succession, and approve the heir's marriage.
I looked up.
“So The Lady isn't just a title.”
“No.” Dad's answer was brief.
“She has power.”
This time, Dad only remained silent.
I turned to the next page.
There were notes about marriages, transfers of ownership, alliances between families, and even decisions that seemed to concern who was allowed to become part of D'Averrano.
The more I read, the clearer it became that the woman who held that title wasn't a figurehead. She was the person standing behind the family's biggest decisions.
I looked at Dad.
“Why was this position erased?” I asked.
“It wasn't erased.”
“Then what?”
“It wasn't continued.”
“Why?”
Dad decided not to answer.
I turned to Lorenzo. “Because men took over everything?”
“More or less,” he answered after a moment.
I smiled cynically.
“Of course.”
I looked at the document again.
One page had been torn out.
Not a tear caused by age.
The paper had been deliberately ripped away.
I ran my fingertip over the torn edge.
“Who took this page?”
Dad was still silent.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Dad. “This time, I don't believe you.”
“I really don't know.”
“Then why do you look afraid?”
Dad stared at the document in my hand. “Because I know what might be written on that page.”
I said nothing more.
Lorenzo stepped closer. “Alessandra,”
“What?” I raised my head.
“Don't go any further.”
“Why?” I looked at him.
“Because once you do that, everything changes.”
I let out a short laugh.
“Hasn't everything already changed?”
Lorenzo fell silent.
I looked at the document again.
There was something left on the final page.
The handwriting was different from the pages before it. Firmer, newer, but still unmistakably old.
I read the sentence slowly.
“If the next heir is a woman, then The Lady must appear again.”
I froze.
My heart began beating harder.
I read the sentence one more time.
Then I looked at Dad.
“A female heir?”
Dad didn't move.
“This is about me?” I pointed to the writing.
“Alessa...”
“This is about me, right?”
There was no answer.
I stood up.
“Who wrote this?”
Dad looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face before.
Not anger.
Not sternness.
He was afraid.
“Someone who is dead.”
“Who?” I swallowed.
Dad didn't answer.
“Don Matteo D'Averrano.” Lorenzo was the one who answered.