The Inheritance of Valdiluna

Short excerpt from my book The Inheritance of Valdiluna. Good reading!

Chapter 1: The Inheritance of Valdiluna

The world of Sofia existed in two dimensions: the tangible one of her tiny apartment on the fourth floor, perennially immersed in a muffled half-light, and the fluid, digital one of the codes and interfaces she worked with. At twenty-five, she had managed to build her refuge around a monitor, where silence was her most precious resource.
She was bent over the light mahogany desk; the long locks of her black, curly hair brushed against the keyboard, while her piercing green eyes were fixed on a complex string of code. Her nature was calm and placid, her inner rhythm slow and methodical. In that instant, every nerve was taut with an almost meditative concentration.
It was in that moment that the ring of her cellphone, placed discreetly next to the notepad, tore through the air. It was a common sound, but in the isolation Sofia so carefully preserved, it sounded like a rifle shot. She started; her hand slipped and struck the mouse with a dry thud. Her heart hammered in her chest like a drum. She cursed under her breath at the interruption and grabbed the phone, expecting a call from a demanding client or perhaps an annoying telemarketer.
“Yes, hello?” she answered, trying to compose herself and mask the irritation in her voice.
“Am I speaking with Miss Sofia Moretti?”
The voice was unexpected. It was not the hurried, dry tone of a businessman. It was deep and persuasive, with a resonance that seemed almost deliberately calibrated, like that of an actor reciting in an empty room. It seemed to wrap the words in dark velvet.
“This is she. Who is speaking?”
“Excuse me if I am disturbing you at an inconvenient moment. I am notary Silas Vance, a notary in Valdiluna. I am contacting you regarding a matter of inheritance.”
Sofia frowned, her green eyes narrowing in perplexity. “Inheritance? I’m afraid there must be some mistake, notary. It… it doesn’t ring a bell.”
“No mistake, Miss Moretti. The testamentary disposition is clear. It concerns your great-uncle, Elias Montenero. Perhaps a relative you barely remember.”
Great-uncle Elias. Sofia had to go back to when she was perhaps eight years old, to a family lunch where a tall man, taciturn and dressed in dark tweed, had remained apart, staring at people with a vacant look. It was her only memory.
“He… has passed away?”
“Unfortunately, yes. And he has left you a property as an inheritance. A villa, to be precise, in our village of Valdiluna.”
Valdiluna. The name, compound and almost fairytale-like, sounded strange to her, evoking images of mist and dark woods. “I see… And what should I do?”
“I will expect you at my office to formally notify you of the deed. I would ask you the courtesy of coming in a couple of days. Wednesday, in the late afternoon—let us say at 5:00 p.m. I will send you the address via SMS; my office is located on the main square. Simple to find, though perhaps a bit… out of the way for a city girl like you.”
There was a slight emphasis on the last sentence, almost a note of amused warning.
“Very well. Wednesday at 5:00 p.m., in Valdiluna,” Sofia agreed, her calm voice in sharp contrast with the growing agitation tightening her stomach.
After the farewells and the promise to send the details, the line went dead. Sofia set the phone down and remained seated, her black curls framing a bewildered face. A villa. A long-forgotten uncle. Valdiluna. And then, that notary.
In her mind, his figure had immediately taken on darker hues: his overly refined manners, that deep and persuasive voice that had given her the strange sensation of being more observed than contacted. He did not have the air of a typical bureaucrat; rather, he resembled a character from an old novel, wrapped in mystery and mournful elegance. He did not even seem like a notary…