The drive home was wrapped in silence.
The city lights flickered past the tinted windows of Luca Moretti's car, throwing flashes of gold and white across Bianca's face. Her hands sat rigid on her lap, her expression a storm she could barely contain. The hum of the engine filled the air, low and tense, but not enough to drown the fury rising inside her.
Luca sat beside her, one hand on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. He hadn't said a word since they left the ballroom. He didn't need to—Bianca's silence was already loud enough.
Finally, she turned toward him, eyes burning.
"You humiliated me, Luca," she snapped, her voice trembling with rage. "In front of everyone."
He didn't look at her. "I didn't humiliate you, Bianca."
"You did!" she spat, her tone sharp. "You made me look like a fool. Everyone saw how you were looking at her—at Aria Bellamy." She said the name like poison. "Do you know what that did to me? What that did to us?"
He exhaled, long and slow, as if holding himself back. "There is no us, Bianca. There never was."
Her breath hitched, eyes widening for a fraction before narrowing into slits.
"No us?" she repeated softly. "Then why did you take me to that ball? Why did you—"
"Because it was expected," he cut in sharply. "Because it was convenient."
Bianca's throat went dry. The words landed like a slap. Convenient. That was what she was to him—a placeholder, a prop. Her hand tightened around her clutch until her knuckles whitened.
She turned away, blinking fast, refusing to let tears fall in front of him.
But the image of Aria's calm smile, the way Luca's eyes had burned for her across the room—it played again and again like a cruel loop.
By the time the car stopped before her family's mansion, Bianca's anger had found a new direction. She opened the door without waiting for Luca and stormed up the marble steps.
"Bianca—" he started, but she didn't look back.
She slammed the door behind her.
Inside, the Valentino mansion was alive even at midnight. The staff scurried quietly, chandeliers still gleaming in soft light. Her mother, elegant even in her night robe, looked up from the sitting room when Bianca stormed in.
"Sweetheart, what on earth—"
"Mama," Bianca burst out, voice shaking. "Luca… he slapped me!"
Her mother froze. "What?"
"He slapped me!" Bianca repeated, louder now, tears spilling down her cheeks. "In front of everyone—because of her! That girl, Aria Bellamy! He humiliated me before the entire ballroom!"
Within minutes, her father appeared, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the marble.
"Who dared to lay a hand on my daughter?" Mr. Valentino's voice was low but dangerous. "Was it that Moretti boy?"
Bianca nodded, sobbing into her mother's arms.
That was all it took.
Mr. Valentino's fury erupted like a storm. "Get the car ready," he barked to the butler. "Now."
"Dante," his wife cautioned softly, "perhaps we should—"
"No," he snapped. "No one humiliates my daughter and walks free. Especially not a Moretti."
By the time the black convoy of Valentino cars pulled up before the Moretti estate, the night had deepened into a heavy silence. Guards at the gate stiffened as they saw who it was.
Inside the mansion, Luca had just stepped in, loosening his tie, when the echo of tires screeching outside made him pause. His father appeared in the hallway, confusion on his face.
"What's going on?"
The front doors burst open.
Mr. and Mrs. Valentino strode in, Bianca following close behind, her eyes red but triumphant.
The elder Moretti rose from his chair instantly. "Dante," he said, attempting calm. "What brings you here at this hour?"
"You know exactly why I'm here!" Mr. Valentino thundered. "Your son humiliated my daughter before half the elite of this city! He laid hands on her!"
The room went still. Luca's mother gasped. "Luca?" she whispered. "Tell me that isn't true."
Luca's eyes flicked toward Bianca. "That's not what happened."
"Oh, spare us your lies," Bianca's mother hissed. "We all saw the way you stared at that girl! That Bellamy witch—don't think we didn't notice!"
Mr. Valentino stepped closer, pointing a sharp finger toward Luca. "Do you realize what you've done? The Valentinos have built empires longer than your family has held a single company share! And you dare to strike my daughter?"
Luca's father turned to him, face dark with anger. "Tell me this isn't true, Luca."
Luca's voice was low but firm. "She humiliated someone, Father. She humiliated Aria Bellamy. It was an accident, but she did it on purpose—and I wasn't going to let it go."
"You raised your hand on a Valentino—for a Bellamy?" his father shouted. "Do you know what you've just cost us?!"
Mr. Valentino's laugh was cold. "Cost? Oh, we'll make sure it costs you everything. Contracts, investors, allies—we'll tear every thread you've built. You'll wish you had never crossed us."
Luca's father's face fell pale. "Dante, wait—"
But Mr. Valentino had already turned to leave.
Bianca paused just before the door, looking back at Luca. Her tears were gone, replaced by something colder. Satisfaction.
"You chose her," she said softly. "Let's see how far that gets you."
The doors slammed shut behind them.
Silence flooded the hall.
The elder Moretti sank onto a chair, his hands trembling. "You've destroyed us," he whispered. "You've just destroyed everything we've worked for."
Luca stood there, motionless, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. "You think I should have let her humiliate someone in public just because of her name?"
His father's voice cracked. "Yes—because you know the power her name carries! Because you know what's at stake!"
His mother's eyes glistened. "Luca, we were arranging your engagement to Bianca. This was supposed to secure peace between both families. And now…" She covered her mouth. "…now they'll ruin us."
Luca's jaw tightened, eyes darkening. "Then let them try."
His father looked up sharply. "What did you just say?"
Luca turned toward the window, the faint reflection of city lights catching the edge of his gaze.
"I said, let them try. If the Valentinos want war—then they'll get it."
The room went quiet again, the weight of his words settling like smoke.
Far away, across the city, Aria sat before her vanity, still replaying the chaos of the night. The spilled champagne, the whispers, the shock that followed. She didn't know about the storm brewing between the two most powerful families in the city. She didn't know that her name had already set a fire no one could put out.
But soon… she would.
Because in a city built on secrets, every spark had a price—and Luca Moretti had just lit the match.