MATTEO
Pain burned through his hands, but that wasn't what bothered him the
most. What stung deeper was the humiliation—being seen in such a
vulnerable state. And not just by anyone, but by his own wife.
He clenched his fists, hating the way the situation made him
feel—stupid, powerless, exposed. That was something he could never
allow himself to be.
Without a word, he pushed himself up from the chair and strode toward
his study, ignoring the sharp sting radiating from his wound. He knew the
coming weeks would be ruthless.
Because what else do you expect when you're dealing with the devil?
LORENZO
Lying idly on a pool float, Lorenzo let the water ripple around him, lost in
thought.
Matteo was reckless. A fool who seemed hellbent on testing his limits. If
it weren't for his mother and uncle's incessant pleas, he would have
ended him already.
But perhaps it was time Matteo learned a lesson.
First, though, he needed to find her.
The mystery girl.
The thought made him sit up abruptly. One of his men rushed over,
handing him a robe and a freshly lit cigar. He took them without a word,
slipping into the robe before taking a slow drag from the cigar.
A smirk curled on his lips.
This is going to be an interesting week.
"Giovanni!" he called out.
The man appeared instantly.
"Any word from Aldo?"
Giovanni hesitated.
Lorenzo exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
"You know what? I don't care how long it takes or what we have to do.
We're going to turn this city upside down until we find her." He took
another slow drag. "She's just a girl. How hard can it be?"
ADANNA
Jen had called her hours ago, voice laced with worry.
"I keep having these eerie dreams about you," she had said, practically
begging her to return.
Adanna had laughed it off, reassuring her friend she was fine. But she
knew she wasn't.
She couldn't tell her the truth—couldn't explain why she was running or
the nightmare she had walked into.
Because the truth was, Lorenzo would find her. It was only a matter of
time.
She had tried reaching out to her boss, but she knew she couldn't risk
direct contact—not until she was sure it was safe.
Now, trapped between two impossible choices, she resolved that
if—when—they came for her, she wouldn't go down without a fight.
She sighed, glancing out at the busy Florence streets from her hotel
window. It was too bright out—too many eyes, too many people milling
about.
Not the time to move.
She ordered room service and took a quick shower, scrubbing away the
exhaustion of the past days. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she
barely recognized the face staring back at her .
You invited the devil into your life, Adanna.
She had taken the job knowing the risks.
But she hadn't expected this.
Her options were clear—risk her life or surrender herself in a way she
refused to. She would never stoop that low.
After her meal, she checked her laptop for any useful updates on her
surroundings. Then, finally, exhaustion pulled her into a nap.
She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep when the knock came.
Soft.
Too soft.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
She lay still, listening. Then another knock.
Adanna swallowed hard, creeping toward the door. She peered through
the peephole.
Room service.
But she wasn't expecting them.
Her breath came faster now, her gut screaming at her to stay put. You're
just being paranoid.
She forced herself to believe it—until, in a split second, the door
opposite hers swung open.
A man stepped out.
Calm. Unsettlingly so.
Before she could react, he was in front of her.
Then—blackness.
MATTEO-
Matteo stirred, blinking as he woke to the sight of Griselda standing over
him.
Expressionless. Cold.
He sat up abruptly.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" His voice was rough from sleep,
but frustration bled through. "Can't I have some damn peace in my own
house?"
She didn't flinch. Didn't waver.
"Whatever you've done to get yourself into this mess," she said coolly,
"my children and I will not be a part of it. You started this war. You'll
dance to the tune alone, because none of us like the sound."
Then, without another word, she turned and walked out.
Matteo's hands clenched into fists as he moved to go after her—to
shout, to demand—but the moment he stood, a wave of weakness
crashed over him.
He barely made it to the couch before collapsing into it, his body heavy
with exhaustion.
LORENZO
Lorenzo studied his color palette, searching for the right shade to
capture his background.
The ringing of his phone broke his concentration.
"I think I got the girl," came the voice on the other end.
Then silence.
A slow smile spread across Lorenzo's face.
Aldo. Always so efficient.
He set the palette down and stood, making his way downstairs.
His housekeeper met him at the door.
"Madame, je vais sortir. Aidez-moi à dire à ma mère que je l'appellerai
ce soir à mon retour. Je ne reviendrai peut-être pas ce soir, alors ne
faites pas le dîner pour moi."
She scoffed. "I understand English perfectly, you handsome fool. You
just like to show off."
He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before stepping outside.
The moment his men saw him approaching the car, they snapped to
attention.
His driver started the engine.
"Take me to Casa del Destino."
The driver nodded, concealing his own thoughts.
Whoever they were going to see tonight…
Wasn't going back the same.
BIANCA -
The air was crisp and cool, far colder than expected.
"It's unusually chilly tonight," Bianca murmured.
Sebastian adjusted his coat. "The weather forecast must have been
wrong."
"It's meant to be cool, not freezing," she muttered.
They walked in silence—until she spotted the van.
Her stomach twisted in warning.
Sebastian noticed her shift. "Mrs.—"
"I don't want a word from you," she snapped, her tone leaving no room
for argument.
Still, he followed, silently praying she wasn't leading them to their
deaths.
Bianca stopped a few feet away from the van, her sharp eyes locking
onto the driver's seat.
The man inside turned to face her.
Recognition flickered.
She arched a brow, lips curling into a cold smile. "Ah. This pest."
The man stepped out leisurely, an air of nonchalance about him.
"You should be grown enough by now to know not to keep people
waiting, boy."
He let out a mirthless laugh, then his gaze darkened.
"So old and wise," he mused, "yet not wise enough to teach your son to
mind his business."
Sebastian's heart pounded violently.
"What do you want, Matteo?" Bianca hissed.
He smirked.
"I'll save us both the time," he said, voice dangerously smooth. "Tell your
son to stay out of my business. You and I both know—it's bad for
business."
With a mocking bow, he turned and drove away.
Bianca exhaled sharply.
"I need to talk to my son."