“¿A dónde va esta llave?”
Rocco entró en la habitación, con los ojos escapando las paredes.
“Tu madre tenía una caja fuerte de pared oculta detrás del retrato de Santa Mónica en su vestidor privado.
She was the only one who had the combination.”
We walked into the adjoining dressing room.
I pulled the heavy oil painting aside, revealing a small, vintage steel safe built directly into the brickwork.
La llave de latón encajaba perfectamente con el ojo de la cerradura central.
I turned it to the left.
A heavy mechanical click echoed through the room.
The safe door swung open.
Inside lay a single wooden box wrapped in faded black velvet.
I pulled the box out and placed it on the desk.
My hands, usually steady as a surgeon’s, were trembling slightly as I lifted the lid.
Inside were three items:
A stack of offshore bank statements showing massive monthly payouts from the Duca family treasury to a private medical facility in Switzerland over the past two years.
Un paquete de letras viejas atadas con una cinta azul.
Una fotografía que hizo que mi corazón se detuviera por completo.
