The night was colder than usual. The city lights flickered like dying stars as Lorenzo sat alone in his office, his knuckles bruised, his jaw tight. The news article still glowed on the screen before him — "The Mafia Boss's Mistress: How Love Weakens Power."
It was a lie. Every word of it. A calculated poison meant to ruin what little peace he and Elena had managed to build.
For days, she hadn't looked at him. She hadn't smiled. The woman who used to fill his mansion with quiet warmth now avoided even the sound of his footsteps. He had promised himself he would never let anyone touch her — and yet someone had hurt her through him.
And that man was going to pay.
"Bring him in," Lorenzo said, his voice low, dangerous.
The door opened. Two guards dragged a trembling man inside — the journalist who had written the story. His nose was bleeding, his shirt soaked with sweat.
"Signor De Luca, please—" the man began, but Lorenzo stood and the rest of his words died.
"You thought writing about me was brave," Lorenzo said, walking toward him slowly, each step deliberate. "But you didn't write it for truth, did you? You wrote what you were paid to write."
The man stammered, shaking his head. "I swear—I didn't mean harm. I was just told to—"
"Told by who?"
Silence.
Lorenzo tilted his head. "You see, I have a rule. I don't kill without reason. But lying…" His eyes darkened. "Lying about her gives me more than enough reason."
He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the desk. The glass shattered under the pressure.
"Who sent you?" he growled, his voice like thunder.
"T-the woman—Luciana Russo!" the man cried out. "She gave me the information, the pictures — she said if I wrote it, I'd get paid and protected!"
Lorenzo froze. That name — Luciana Russo.
The woman who had sold her own stepdaughter like property. The woman who had made Elena believe she was worthless.
His pulse roared. "What else did she say?"
"She said… she said Elena deserved to be exposed," the man stuttered, sobbing now. "That she was manipulating you, trying to take over your empire — that she was just like her mother."
The room went silent.
Lorenzo's fist tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted to kill him right there — but instead, he stepped back, breathing through the fury.
"Get him out of my sight," he said.
The guards dragged the man away, leaving the office heavy with silence.
Lorenzo turned toward the window, the city's reflection sharp in the glass. His reflection looked back at him — the Devil everyone feared. But right now, he didn't feel like a devil. He felt something worse — guilty.
He remembered the way Elena's tears had fallen that night in the garden. The way her voice had cracked when she told him he didn't trust her.
And she was right.
He had doubted her — even for a moment — and that moment had broken something fragile between them.
He reached for his phone, dialing a private number. "Track every call, every transaction linked to Luciana Russo. I want her accounts, her associates, everything she owns. Tonight."
"Yes, boss," the voice on the other end replied.
Lorenzo ended the call and walked out of his office. His steps echoed through the quiet halls until he stopped outside one door — her door.
He didn't knock. He just stood there, listening. Inside, he could hear faint music, a soft hum that belonged only to her.
He pushed the door open gently.
Elena sat by the window, dressed in one of his shirts, her hair loose, her eyes distant. She didn't look up when he entered.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
"I couldn't sleep," she murmured. "Noise travels fast in this house."
He sighed. "I know I hurt you, Elena."
She didn't answer. She just kept looking at the moonlight outside, cold and quiet.
"I found out who did it," he continued. "The one who spread those lies."
Now she turned to face him, her eyes red from crying. "Who?"
He hesitated, then said softly, "Luciana."
Her lips parted slightly, shock flickering across her face. "My stepmother?"
"She wanted to ruin you. To make me doubt you."
Elena looked down, her hands trembling. "Of course she did. She's always hated me. Even when I was a child, she couldn't stand the sight of me because I looked like my mother."
Lorenzo took a slow step forward. "She's going to regret it. I'll destroy her. Everything she owns, everyone she trusts — gone."
Elena shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "No, Lorenzo. That's what she wants — to turn you into a monster again."
He knelt beside her, his hands gently holding hers. "I don't care what she wants. No one hurts you and walks away."
She looked at him — really looked at him — and for the first time in days, she saw not the cold, feared mafia boss, but the man who was slowly learning what love meant.
"You're dangerous when you're angry," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "Only when someone touches what's mine."
Her breath caught at his words. He reached up, brushing his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears.
"You should rest," he said softly. "Tomorrow, we end this."
As he turned to leave, Elena called out, her voice barely a whisper.
"Lorenzo…"
He looked back at her.
"Promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Don't lose yourself for me."
He hesitated, then nodded once. "I already did the day I met you."
And with that, he left her room, the door closing softly behind him.
Outside, the night wind howled across the city — a warning of the storm that was coming.
And somewhere, in a mansion filled with secrets, Luciana Russo smiled, unaware that the devil she had provoked was already on his way.