Outside, the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The air had cooled, but the tension remained thick, like a wire pulled taut, waiting to snap.
My men straightened as we approached, their postures sharpening, hands hovering near weapons they wouldn't yet draw. Every movement was calculated now.
The deeper we went into De Luca's territory, the more we all felt it: this wasn't just a visit. It was a provocation.
We were just about to climb into the car when a rumble of engines split the stillness.
It wasn't just the sound—it was the way it shattered the unnatural quiet of the place. A heavy-duty truck emerged from the tree line, dust billowing in its wake like smoke trailing a fire. Its tires churned the dirt as it ground to a halt near the far side of the courtyard.
The thing looked like it belonged on a demolition site. Dented panels, rust creeping along the seams, its back concealed under a locked tarp and chains.
My eyes narrowed.
Then came the second vehicle, sleek, black, and polished to a mirror shine. A BMW. The kind of car that didn't get driven on roads like this. It glided to a stop behind the truck, humming with quiet menace.
The juxtaposition was jarring.
Utility and elegance. Brutality and money.
My instincts went razor-sharp.
The doors of the BMW popped open with a soft thump. A man in a tailored dark suit and mirrored sunglasses stepped out first.
Clearly security.
Ex-military by the way he moved, shoulders squared, eyes sweeping the terrain in precise arcs, jaw clenched just a little too tightly. He paused, assessed, then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door with a gesture that was less courtesy and more protocol.
And then, from within the car, stepped someone who made my stomach clench. Not with fear, but with the sudden surge of cold calculation.
Someone I was surprised to see here. And yet, not surprised at all.
************
Liviana
I limped into my room, trying to disguise just how much every step burned. Daphne was right behind me, clutching a folded towel and a bowl of water. The pain was worse today, sharper, deeper, but I refused to let it show.
"Don't try to be brave on my account," Daphne said, nudging the door shut with her foot. "Sit down before you collapse."
I lowered myself gingerly onto the edge of the bed, swallowing a grimace. The bruise on my ribs throbbed with every breath. Daphne set the bowl on the nightstand, her movements practiced and brisk. She'd done this before, too many times.
"I'm fine," I muttered, even though I wasn't. Not even close.
"You're not," she said, voice clipped. "And don't bother lying. I saw the way you winced when you got out of the car."
I didn't respond. She was right, and we both knew it.
My room wasn't much. Dario kept the main house luxurious for appearances, but my quarters were modest. Neat. Sparse. A bed, a dresser, a small window with a view of nothing. It was just enough to say I was family, and not enough to let me forget I was a prisoner.
"You shouldn't have argued with him," Daphne added, wringing out the cloth and pressing it gently to my temple.
"I didn't argue. I asked a question."
"You questioned him." She gave me a look. "To Dario, that's worse."
I scoffed and winced as the movement tugged at my bruised cheek. "He doesn't get to control what I think."
"No, but he controls what you say. And what happens after you say it."
Daphne's voice was soft, but the warning in it was clear. She wasn't scolding me, she never did. She just knew how things worked here. And she wanted me alive long enough to find a way out.
"Lift your arm," she said, switching to a fresh cloth. "Let me see your ribs."
I obeyed, biting the inside of my cheek as she dabbed at the purple-and-blue mess blooming across my side.
"I don't understand how he can do this to his own blood," she murmured, more to herself than to me.
"Because he doesn't see me as family," I replied. "I'm leverage. A liability. A name he didn't want attached to his legacy."
She didn't argue.
After a moment, she stepped away and came back with a mug of something warm and herbal. It smelled terrible.
"No," I said immediately.
"Yes," she insisted. "It'll help the pain."
"It smells like boiled mushrooms and regret."
"Drink it or I'll pour it down your throat."
I gave her a look but took the mug anyway. I trusted Daphne. She'd been with Dario's household long before I arrived. She wasn't cruel like the others. If anything, she was the only softness in this cold place.
I drank the concoction in one go, gagging on the bitter taste.
"Good," she said, nodding with approval. "Now lie down."
I did, easing back onto the mattress as carefully as I could. The pain dulled a little, warmth spreading through my limbs. Daphne pulled a blanket over me and smoothed the edge near my shoulder like a mother would.
"I'll bring you something to eat," she whispered. "Proper food. You need your strength."
"Thanks, Daphne."
She hesitated at the door. "You've got to stop testing him like this, Liviana. One day, he won't hold back."
"I know," I whispered. "But I won't let him break me either."
She gave me a sad smile and slipped out, leaving the door cracked just enough for light to trickle in.
I stared at the ceiling, the pain humming in the background like a dull radio frequency. No matter how bad it got, one thing kept me going. One thought. One plan.
I had to get out. Not just for my sake.
But to end this. Once and for all.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The herbal drink dulled the ache in my limbs but couldn't quiet the storm in my mind. I stared at the ceiling, eyes tracing the familiar cracks and water stains as my thoughts wandered.
Memories came in waves, my parents' laughter, our garden in Amalfi, the warm scent of lemons drifting through open windows. All gone in one violent night. All erased by the man who claimed to be my protector.
Dario had taken me in, yes, but not out of love. He took me in because I was the last thread that could unravel everything. I was the niece of the woman who once threatened his grip on power, my mother, and he would never forgive her for that.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I called, expecting Daphne.
But it wasn't her.
Lucia, one of the maids, peeked in nervously. "Mr. De Luca wants to see you."
I sat up slowly, the pain returning with the movement. "Now?"
She nodded. "He said not to keep him waiting."
Of course not.
I stood, straightened my blouse, and walked slowly to the door. Lucia didn't meet my eyes. No one did in this house, not when it came to Dario. Fear rippled through the halls like smoke, unseen but choking.
The walk to his office felt like a march to the gallows. Daphne wasn't anywhere in sight.
I knocked on the door, then entered without waiting. Dario liked it that way, like he already owned your steps before you took them.
He sat behind his desk, the window behind him casting his face in shadow.
"You've been quiet," he said without looking up.
"I've been resting."
He glanced up. "Don't get comfortable. You're not here to rest."
I met his gaze without flinching. "Why am I here, then?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "To learn. To remember who you belong to."
I swallowed the fire rising in my throat. "I belong to no one."
His smile faded. "You belong to me until I say otherwise. Don't forget that."
I said nothing.
He tapped the folder on his desk. "You're going to start helping with the guest lists. Arrivals. Shipments. It's time you learned how the house runs."
I froze. This was new. He never involved me in his dealings.
"Why?"
"Because one day, someone will come looking for you," he said, leaning forward. "And when they do, I want you to remember exactly what they're walking into. That's power, Liviana. Knowing the truth. Living in it."
He stood, came around the desk, and gently lifted my chin.
"You're my blood. That means something. And it will buy you protection. But only if you obey."
I forced myself to hold his gaze. "You're building an empire on broken people. There's no legacy in that."
For a moment, his hand tightened. Just a flicker. Then he released me and turned away.
"Go back to your room," he said. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
I left without another word.
Back in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank onto the bed. My heart was pounding.
He was letting me in. Not out of trust, but out of arrogance.
And that was his mistake.
Because now I had a window. A crack in the armor.
And I was going to use it.