CHAPTER 138: THE FACES WE BURY.....

The silence in the room was too perfect—like a held breath before something breaks.

The locket trembled in her hand, its open hinge whispering against her skin. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the photo.

The woman’s eyes, though frozen in monochrome, carried something raw—something intimate, like a secret that refused to die.

And that child.

The boy’s small fingers were curled around a silver cross, identical to Luca’s—the same one that gleamed now whenever moonlight touched his throat.

Her chest constricted.

No, It couldn’t be.

She wanted to believe it was some relic from the old Morano vaults, some ancestral keepsake but the photograph looked too modern.

The woman’s dress, the faint outline of a phone camera reflection—it couldn’t be older than a decade.

Alessia’s fingers trembled.

Her husband had many secrets.

That was part of loving Luca Morano—the danger, the mystery, the exquisite ache of knowing she would never truly possess every part of him.

But this—this felt like betrayal carved in silence.

The rain began again, soft at first, then steady, pattering against the balcony glass.

She snapped the locket shut and held it tight.

The weight felt heavier now, almost alive against her palm.

Her reflection in the glass looked pale, distant.

"Luca..." she whispered, but it wasn’t a call—it was a question.

*******

The house was too quiet as she moved through it.

Even the guards outside the door had vanished, their usual silent patrol absent.

The scent of burning cedar drifted faintly from the west corridor.

Luca’s study, Of course.

That was where he always went when something needed to be hidden or destroyed.

Alessia walked barefoot across the marble, her nightgown whispering at her legs.

The air felt heavier the closer she got.

The soft murmur of his voice reached her before the door did.

She stopped.

He wasn’t alone.

"...No. She doesn’t know," Luca’s voice, low and deliberate, said from within. "Not yet."

Then a pause another voice, male, filtered through the half-closed door. "You’re playing with fire, Luca. If she learns the truth about them, the Council won’t be the only one you’ll have to answer to."

"She won’t," Luca said, calm as ever. "Alessia’s loyalty isn’t the problem."

"Then what is?"

Luca exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through. "The Codex shifted last night. She saw something in it. I don’t know what, but whatever it showed her—it wasn’t meant for her eyes."

Alessia’s heart stumbled.

Codex.... Dream.

Her blood ran cold.

She leaned closer, the faintest creak betraying her movement.

The other man lowered his voice, but she caught fragments.... "...Seraphina’s file... the bloodline... the child."

Her grip tightened on the doorframe. . .. The child.

The image in the locket burned in her mind like an accusation.

Luca’s next words were a whisper, raw. "If the Council finds out the boy is alive, it’s over. For all of us."

A breath hitched in her throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth...

Alive.

So there was a child?

And the boy—his boy—was still out there.

The man muttered something she couldn’t catch, then footsteps moved toward the door.

Alessia darted back, pressing herself against the wall just as the door opened.

A tall man in a black coat stepped out. He didn’t see her.

His face was sharp, his eyes too alert—one of Luca’s lieutenants, she guessed.

When he was gone, the door began to close again. She slipped inside before it latched.

Luca stood by the fireplace, sleeves rolled, the glow of flames painting his skin in gold and shadow. A half-burned file lay in the hearth, curling in on itself.

He didn’t turn when he spoke. "You shouldn’t be here, amore."

Her heart lurched.

"How did you know?" she managed.

He smiled faintly, still not looking at her. "You breathe differently when you’re hiding something."

The air between them thickened.

"Who was she?" Alessia asked. Her voice came out softer than she intended. "The woman in the locket."

That made him freeze.

Slowly, Luca turned. His eyes found hers—dark, unreadable. "You opened it."

"You gave it to me," she said, forcing the tremor from her voice. "I thought it was a gift, not a grave."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alessia... "

"Don’t," she snapped, stepping closer. "Don’t use that voice on me. I want the truth."

For a moment, the only sound was the fire.

Then Luca reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, folded piece of paper.

He held it out.

She didn’t take it. "What is that?"

"The truth," he said simply.

She snatched it, unfolding the brittle sheet.

It was another photograph—this one newer, color faded from sunlight.

The same boy, a little older now maybe seven.

He stood in front of an orphanage gate, a wooden plaque above it reading: San D’Argento Children’s Home.

Alessia’s chest tightened. "You’ve been watching him."

"I’ve been protecting him."

"From what?" Alessia asked.

Luca looked past her, as though the walls themselves might be listening. "From what his blood carries."

The fire popped.

"Who is he, Luca?"

He hesitated, and in that hesitation, she already knew.

"Mine," he said quietly. "And hers."

The words landed like a knife.

The flames painted the edges of his face in gold and ash, and suddenly she saw it—the same shadow beneath his eyes, the same haunted restraint.

She stumbled back a step. "How long were you going to hide this from me?"

"As long as I had to."luca said.

"Why?". Alessia asked as tears streamed down her eyes.

"Because the Codex is waking." His voice sharpened, breaking the calm façade. "And if the Council learns that my son carries the blood of both lines—the Morano and the Seraphine—they’ll take him. They’ll use him to finish what the first war couldn’t."

Her blood turned to ice.

Both lines..... The Seraphine.

Her mind reeled. "You mean—Seraphina?"

Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

The silence screamed it for him.

The world tilted.

"Seraphina was.... "

"Yes," he said, cutting her off gently. "Before you. Before everything changed."

Her breath stuttered. "And you never told me?"

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer. "But you were already bound to the Codex. If it had sensed your connection to her, to him, it would’ve devoured you. It nearly did last night."

Alessia shook her head, tears pricking hot behind her eyes. "You’re lying. This—this is another one of your Council games.... "

"Look at me," he said sharply. "Would I lie about him?"

She faltered.

Luca’s voice dropped to a whisper. "The Codex called you last night for a reason. It’s never wrong. Something is coming, Alessia. And if Seraphina’s child is still alive—if they’ve found him—then none of us are safe."

She stared at him, the locket burning cold against her skin.

"Where is he now?" she asked.

Luca’s jaw tightened. "Hidden. Somewhere even I can’t reach him."

Her fingers clenched. "Then who can?"

Before he could answer, the lights flickered.

Once.... Twice.

Then the power died.

The room plunged into darkness.

The fire guttered, wind howled through the open window—and from somewhere deep within the estate came a single, hollow knock.

Three times, Slow and deliberately.

Luca’s head snapped toward the sound. His hand moved to his gun.

Alessia’s pulse roared in her ears.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Then a voice—soft, childlike—echoed through the dark hall: "Mama... it’s cold out here."

The locket in her hand pulsed once, faint and warm—like a heartbeat.

And Alessia realized, with a shiver that cut to her bones...

The voice wasn’t coming from outside.

It was coming from inside the house...