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James exchanged a glance with Alice and Marco, the pieces falling into place but new questions hanging heavy in the air.

Alessandro broke down further, his shoulders shaking. “I was wrong,” he sobbed, covering his face. “I should’ve controlled myself… I should’ve just went to the event directly. I didn’t mean to… not like that…”

Marco let out a quiet sigh, then stepped forward and gently but firmly took Alessandro by the arm. “Let’s go,” he said, guiding him toward the front door where the police car was waiting.

James watched silently as they disappeared outside into the cool night. Then he turned to Alice, his brow furrowed, voice low.

“There’s still something off,” he said.

Alice looked at him. “You mean Leonardo?”

James nodded. “Yeah. If Alessandro didn't kill him, then who did? And how did that happen in Vittoria's bedroom?”

He turned as Marco re-entered, brushing his coat back into place.

“I’ve got a few questions we still need answers to,” James said.

“No problem,” Marco replied. “We’ll interrogate him first thing tomorrow morning.”

James leaned in slightly. “Make sure to ask him if he locked Vittoria’s bedroom door from the outside when he left — and if he locked the main house as well. Also, check if anyone else, like the old housekeepers, was still in the house when he left at 10:30.”

Marco’s brow furrowed slightly. “Got it. Those details could matter.”

“They are,” James said quietly, his gaze drifting toward the staircase. A shadow of doubt passed over his face. “Because I’m starting to think… Alessandro might not be the real murderer after all.”