Angela sat by the window, her fingers curled around a warm mug of tea. The morning had been oddly quiet since Matteo left, but the silence didn't bring her peace—it pressed on her chest like a weight she couldn't shake. She should've felt relieved to have some distance, but her instincts told her otherwise.
Her phone buzzed sharply on the table.
Unknown number.
She answered with caution. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end made her stomach twist. Cold. Commanding. And unmistakably familiar.
"Angela."
Lorenzo.
Her boss. The man she was really working for. The one who had roped her into this dangerous game. A man whose smile could send a chill down your spine—and whose threats were never empty.
"It's been a day," he said smoothly, though there was nothing friendly in his tone. "You've been quiet. Too quiet."
Angela stood, her heart beginning to race. "I've been doing what you asked—laying low, playing the part. He's not easy to fool, you know."
"You're not there to admire him," Lorenzo snapped. "You're there to watch him. Find out how his operation works. Find the weak spots. And don't miss your chance."
"I haven't," she said quickly. "I'm doing what I can. He watches everything I do. I can't move without his men breathing down my neck."
"You've got to try harder," Lorenzo growled. "He trusts you enough to marry you, doesn't he? Use that. Don't get comfortable, Angela. He may be charming, but he's a killer."
She didn't need reminding.
"There's something I need to tell you," he added. "Meet me in person. I'll text you the address."
"I can't," Angela said firmly. "He told me not to meet with anyone. If I'm seen—"
"I don't care," Lorenzo cut her off. "Tell them you're going to a store. Once you get there, excuse yourself and go to the back. You'll find the restroom. I'll be waiting."
Angela hesitated, but his next words chilled her blood.
"If you don't show up, I'll make sure your brother never wakes up from that hospital bed. Do you understand me?"
Her throat tightened. "Fine. I'll be there."
The line went dead.
An hour later, Angela stood by the front door, adjusting her sunglasses and forcing a smile as she turned to the guard stationed at the bottom of the marble staircase.
"I need to go shopping," she said. "There's a boutique I want to check out."
The man, clad in black with a visible weapon strapped beneath his jacket, nodded once and pulled out his phone. Moments later, a sleek black car pulled into the driveway.
"Get in," the driver said.
Angela kept her expression composed, heart thudding as she slid into the backseat. Her fingers curled tightly in her lap as they drove through the narrow streets. When they arrived, she stepped out, glanced around the quiet boutique, and walked inside.
"I'll be back in a minute," she said to the man following her. "Restroom."
She didn't wait for a reply.
Pushing through a side door, she followed the hallway to the back and slipped into the restroom.
He was already there.
Lorenzo stood by the sink, dressed in a dark coat and scarf, his eyes sharp and dangerous. He was tall, with olive skin and slicked-back hair, and he oozed a quiet threat that made the air feel thinner.
Angela shut the door behind her, jaw clenched.
"You shouldn't be here," she hissed. "This is risky."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just took a step forward.
"And yet, you came," he murmured, his gaze trailing over her with slow deliberation. "Beautiful and obedient. Just how I like my spies."
Angela flinched as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate line of her collarbone.
She slapped his hand away. "That wasn't the agreement between us. You said no touching. I agreed to help you spy, not let you treat me like some pawn in your sick game."
Lorenzo's smile faded.
"You don't get to set the rules, Angela," he said coldly. "You think you're special just because Matteo looked at you twice? You're not. You're expendable. Just like your sister. Just like your brother."
Her blood ran cold.
"If you don't do your job—if you don't dig deeper, if you don't find something soon—I will end you. And I won't stop there."
Angela tried to stay steady, but the fear gripped her throat. She wanted to scream, to run—but she knew better.
This was Lorenzo's world. A whisper from him could erase her from existence.
"You don't know what he's capable of," Angela said softly.
Lorenzo leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. "And you don't know what I'm capable of."
He stepped back and straightened his coat.
"Start earning your protection, Angela. Or I'll take it away."
Then, just like that, he slipped out the back door.
Angela stood alone in the restroom, shaking. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her—haunted, pale, and deeply afraid.
She knew this mission was dangerous.
But now, it wasn't just about secrets and survival.
Now, it was about choosing between two devils.
And praying she picked the one who wouldn't destroy her.