The Moretti estate's conference room wasn't crafted for peace; its purpose was for conflict.
Stretching long across the room, oak tables held city maps spread out like war plans.
Red markers dotted where bodies had recently fallen. At the back stood Luca, usually calm but now tense enough to press against the walls.
Sitting at the table's head was Damian Moretti steady, composed and deadly.
"Two trucks got hit on Naples' outskirts," a lieutenant reported with a shaky voice.
Alessandro's men are pushing your boundaries again. They want you to make the first move."
Damian leaned back in his seat, dim light highlighting a faint scar on his jawline. "Here's their mistake," he said softly. "They think they can provoke me."
He raised his eyes, sharp and icy. "Let them give it another shot."
Luca breathed out quietly through his nose before stepping forward. "If they're this daring, someone inside is feeding them the information.There's a leak about our movements Luca said hesitantly."
Damian turned slightly toward him. "Are you saying it's one of ours?"
"I believe so ," Luca answered cautiously, "someone here might be talking to Alessandros."
For an instant, silence swept through the room.
Then Damian stood up.
The atmosphere shifted, as if everything was careful not to say something that will annoy the boss.
His movements were slow and deliberate like a predator's approach.
He moved closer to Luca until there was barely any space between them as their eyes met: loyalty facing authority.
"Watch what you're saying," Damian warned in a low yet dangerous tone. "You know what happens to traitors under my roof."
Luca didn't flinch. "I'm aware of that boss . That's why I'm telling you now before you start hunting ghosts."
Something flickered behind Damian's eyes, Calculation, Doubt, hmm Maybe even guilt.
Then he turned away, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The sound of the liquid hitting the crystal echoed like thunder.
"Double the guards," he said finally. "Sweep the estate. I want everyone questioned."
He paused, then added, quieter, "Especially Antonio Romano."
Luca's head snapped up. "Her father?"
Damian's lips curved into something close to a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "He's been too quiet since the wedding. Quiet men are dangerous."
He took a slow sip, his gray eyes glinting. "And I want Isabella nowhere near him for now."
Upstairs, Isabella could feel the storm even through the marble walls.
The silence of the Moretti mansion was heavy, the kind that made the hair on her arms rise thereby giving her goosebumps.
She sat by the window, with her sketchbook open on her lap, though she hadn't drawn a single line. The pencil moved uselessly between her fingers.
Her thoughts kept circling to the same two men, both dangerous in their own ways. Damian, who burned like fire, and Luca, who moved like a shadow.
The memory of Luca's warning still echoed: "They're coming for you."
A chill ran down her spine.
Then, faintly, the door clicked open behind her.
She turned too fast.
Damian stood there, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened, the sharpness of power still clinging to him. His eyes found her immediately.
"You're trembling," he said quietly. "Did someone come here?"
Her heartbeat stuttered. "No. I just… couldn't sleep."
He studied her face, every movement, every hesitation. Then he stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "You're lying again."
Her lips parted, but he caught her wrist, pressing her palm flat against his chest. His heart beat steady beneath her fingers dangerously calm.
"Feel that?" he murmured. "That's control. The only thing that keeps this house standing."
He leaned closer until his breath brushed her ear. "Don't break it."
Her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. "You can't keep me in a cage forever , you know ?."
Damian smiled faintly. "You still think it's a cage, Bella. You'll soon learn, that this is protection."
He released her hand, but his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because when they come for you and they surely will, you'll beg to be locked inside."
Thunder rolled across the sky that night, shaking the mansion's glass windows. A storm was coming not just outside, but within the walls of the Moretti estate.
Isabella lay awake, the rain drumming against the balcony doors.
Every flicker of lightning illuminated the painting across the room , the painting from Damian's mother, Claudia Moretti, captured in oil and silence.
Her eyes seemed to follow Isabella, heavy with warning , as if telling her something with unspoken words.
She sat up, clutching the sheet around her. The echo of Damian's words wouldn't leave her mind.
"When they come for you and they will, you'll beg to be locked inside."
But she couldn't live locked away. Not again.
Not after everything she'd already lost.
The doorknob turned.
She froze.
Every sound sharpened the rain, the creak of floorboards, her own heartbeat.
A shadow moved in the doorway.
"Bella?"
The whisper came low, familiar.
Luca.
She exhaled shakily, clutching her chest. "You scared me," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
He stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.
His black shirt was soaked from the rain, clinging to the muscles beneath. His eyes, usually calm, were burning with urgency.
"There's movement outside the grounds," he said. "Three cars. Alessandro's men don't usually come this close unless…"
"Unless what?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Unless someone invited them in."
Her blood turned cold. "You mean…"
"I mean there's a mole, Bella," he cut in. "And Damian thinks it's your father."
The world tilted.
"My father…." Her voice cracked. " No he wouldn't.., it can't be….
"Well he sold you to someone?" Luca's tone softened, but the truth in his eyes was brutal. "He already did."
Tears welled, stinging hot. "You don't understand , he was protecting me.."
"I do understand," Luca said, stepping closer. "But this world doesn't forgive good intentions. You're his blood, and that makes you a liability."
She took a shaky step back. "Then why are you telling me this? You should be telling Damian."
He hesitated. The silence between them thickened.
"Because if I tell him before he knows the truth… your father won't live to see the sunrise."
Her lips parted, trembling. "You're protecting him?"
"I'm protecting you."
Lightning flashed and for a second, she saw it in his eyes. Not just loyalty, not just duty, something deeper and something forbidden.
The moment hung between them, fragile as glass.
Then a gunshot shattered it.
The sound came from below the east wing.
Luca's gun was in his hand before she could speak. "Stay here," he ordered, voice sharp. "Don't move, no matter what you hear."
He was halfway to the door when she grabbed his arm. "Luca please what if it's Damian"
He looked back, jaw tight. "Then pray he's the one doing the shooting."
He was gone before she could answer.
The mansion erupted into chaos.
Guards rushed through the corridors, shouting orders in Italian.
The scent of gunpowder laced the air. Isabella clutched the doorframe, heart hammering as echoes of violence rolled through the hallways.
Then footsteps. Heavy. Close.
She turned, ready to run but the door slammed open, and Damian filled the doorway like a storm in human form.
His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, blood spattered across his sleeve. His eyes were silver, furious locked on her.
"Where is he?" he demanded.
"Who…" Her voice shook. "Who are you talking about?"
"Antonio Romano." The name hit the air like a gunshot. "Your father."
Her breath caught. "I…I don't know what Luca said.."
"Luca," Damian growled, his hand fisting at his side. "He should've kept you inside."
He strode across the room, gripping her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. "Listen to me, Bella.
Whoever is helping Alessandro , whoever let them through my gates will die tonight."
His voice dropped, softer, dangerous. "Even if it's your father."
Her tears spilled over. "Damian, please don't"
He froze, her voice cutting through his fury like a blade.
For a long moment, he just looked at her as if he was observing something about her . Her trembling lips, her wide pleading eyes, the innocence that somehow still hadn't broken.
Then his hand slipped from her jaw, trailing down her throat, stopping at the pulse hammering there. His thumb brushed against it gently.
"I told you, Bella," he murmured, voice breaking the edges of control. "In this world, mercy is weakness."
She met his gaze, still defiant even through her fear. "Then maybe it's time you learn mercy isn't weakness, it's what makes you human."
For the first time, Damian didn't answer.
Because deep down, he feared she might be right.