The following morning, seventy-eight-year-old Roberto Cassano arrived at the Valenti estate.

Cassano had served as Angelo Valenti’s private legal advisor for over thirty years before retiring to the countryside.

He walked into the grand library leaning on an ebony cane, his steps slow and deliberate.

Domenico rose from behind his father’s oak desk to greet the elderly man with a respectful embrace.

"Thank you for traveling so far, Roberto," Domenico said, pulling up a comfortable armchair.

Cassano sat down, placing a faded leather portfolio across his knees.

"When I heard the news on the radio this morning, Domenico, I knew why the vase had been broken."

Domenico poured two small glasses of aged amaro, handing one to the old notary.

"You helped him seal it, didn't you?"

Cassano took a slow sip, his eyes clouded with distant memories.

"Angelo called me to the villa three days before he died," Cassano recounted softly.

"He knew his heart was failing."

"He had discovered the forged bills of lading that very morning while reviewing Marco's private accounts."

The old man sighed, looking around the wood-paneled walls of the library.

"Angelo sat in that very chair, Domenico, weeping like a child."

"He said, 'Roberto, my eldest son is a thief and a murderer, and my family will crumble if this comes to light today.'"

"So why hide the truth inside porcelain instead of going to the police?" Domenico asked quietly.

Cassano tapped the leather portfolio.

"Because Angelo knew that Marco would have had the documents destroyed before the ink was dry."

"He needed a hiding place that was sacred to the family."

"That antique vase was brought from Florence by your grandmother on their wedding day."

"Angelo knew Marco was too superstitious to ever smash it or move it from the entryway."

Cassano looked into Domenico’s eyes with deep, solemn reverence.

"Your father told me, 'One day, someone innocent will shake the house, and the truth will fall to the floor.'"

Domenico looked toward the window where the morning sun cut across the lawn.

"Livia didn't just break an antique, Roberto."

"She fulfilled an old man's prayer."

Cassano smiled, placing the signed original deed copies on the desk blotter.

"The Valenti family has finally paid its oldest debt, my boy."