Italy, Belloni Estate – Drawing Room
The room was cloaked in a silence so dense, it felt alive.
Sandalwood steeped into the leather of the sofas, mingling with the dusky perfume of aged wine.
The air hung heavy, like the weight of secrets left too long unspoken.
Celeste drew in a breath.
Slow—yet deliberate.
Her gaze lifted and locked across the room, landing on the man seated opposite:
Luca Belloni.
"Noah's parents first,"
Her voice cut through the stillness—low, unwavering.
"Their disappearance. Tell me the truth."
Luca smiled, hands folded atop the deep teal of his silk shirt.
The curve of his lips was calm, almost indulgent, but his eyes glinted like a blade catching the light.
"Are you ready for the truth, princess?"
She did not reply.
But neither did she flinch.
Her gaze held, unwavering.
Luca began to swirl his wine, slowly, like a ritual, before he spoke.
"Their deaths weren't a coincidence."
He spoke the words like a prayer, his tone soft—almost reverent—but as dry as old confessionals.
"Dr. Nams… you know Daniel's parents. The research they were doing—what we now call the Smart Pill—it all began with them."
"They were idealists. Dreamers. Creating a cure for children, something noble, something clean. But dreamers like that... they never last long in this world."
Celeste's eyes narrowed, her breath steady but cold.
Luca, unbothered, accepted her fury with aristocratic ease.
"Leaving a raw diamond on the desk and never thinking to cut it, polish it, sell it? That's not virtue. That's idiocy. Charity? Ethics? Morality? Those are the toys of the privileged—used to wash their own sins in gold."
"You really did it…You killed them. Even Daniel's parents…"
He smiled, as if he'd been waiting for that.
"I mined that diamond,"
he said quietly.
"I shaped it. And I offered it to those who needed it—at the right price. That's how I got here. That's how I stay here."
His voice, like velvet over steel, turned sharp.
"After the accident—well, fine, after I killed that lovely doctor couple—the journalists somehow got their hands on the lab's data."
Celeste inhaled, slow and tight.
"…you killed them?"
Luca shook his head with deliberate grace.
"I warned them. Told them to stay back. Told them there were lines even I couldn't protect them from crossing. Just as I once warned you."
Her fingertips trembled.
"Then they disappeared, and I assumed it was over. But they'd gotten closer than I'd imagined—close enough to threaten the Belloni name unless I brought everything to a halt."
He laughed, softly, the memory amused him.
"As if mice could bare their teeth at a lion and live to tell it."
Then, with a voice like he was reciting an old contract:
"Their deaths were... no longer in my hands. A higher level made that call. I had warned them. They crossed the line. And in our world, that's when the estate cleans house. No guilt. No regret."
His smile returned—faint, razor-thin.
"Well… if anyone should feel sorry for them, it's you."
Her gaze cut through him like winter steel.
"…Me?"
Luca nodded, slowly, a strange echo lacing his tone.
"That's right."
"What are you talking about…"
Celeste's voice was barely a breath.
"Wow,"
he said with a mocking hum, lips curling.
"God, you really were kept in the dark. Like a porcelain doll on a velvet shelf. George did his best, I'll give him that. But—ah, hold on. This'll be fun."
He seemed almost giddy now, like a child recalling a delicious secret.
He reached for his phone, dialed a number with excruciating slowness, savoring every second.
The anticipation lit up his eyes.
"Father. We have a very special guest."
He cast Celeste a glimmering smile.
"She'd love to see you. We're in the drawing room."
Moments later—The back garden doors opened with a quiet click.
Leather hunting gloves.
A pistol resting atop the sideboard.
Ash-brown hair combed to precision.
A tailored suit.
And eyes that knew no warmth.
Alessandro.
A figure from childhood travels across Europe.
George's half-brother.
The true face behind the name Belloni.
He was once her kind, smiling uncle.
Now—he was the man behind the curtain.
"My, how you've grown. It's been far too long, Celeste."
His voice was deep, solemn, and unfamiliar.
The warmth she remembered was nowhere in sight.
Only chill.
Her chest tightened.
Her heart crawled up her throat.
The edges of the room trembled.
And the most unbearable thing—Even her childhood memories were now stained and laid bare on this filthy board.
She couldn't breathe.
Her mind reeled.
Nausea surged, swift and sharp.
She clamped a hand over her mouth.
And watched, eyes burning, as he approached—Smiling.
Slowly.