Novels by Abigail Thompson

CHAPTER 6​Valeriano POV​The rain over Lake Como did not fall, it lashed against the reinforced glass of the master suite like a warning, a relentless pounding rhythm that seemed to beat time against Fiorenza’s racing pulse. She stood stunned by the full height of the windows, her reflection ghostly against the dark,racing water of the lake below.​The silk of her ivory travel gown felt less like a garment and more like a restraint, a crisp, elegant reminder of the contract signed in blood and ink just twenty four hours prior in the emptied out shell of the Milan atelier. With a trembling roughened thumb,she touched the small crescent shaped scar on her left collarbone, pressing down until the skin turned stark white, seeking physical pain to ground her against the surreal weight of her new reality.​The heavy red reddish brown door clicked open with a soft, expensive lock.​Valeriano.​He didn't knock,He never knocked but He stepped into the room, shrugging off a charcoal overcoat

Chapter 5 Whispers in the Atelier​ Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​The dawn light filtering through the high arched windows of the De Santis Atelier didn't feel like a new day,it made the place feel like something horrible had just happened.​I stood in the center of the main showroom floor, the silence thick and heavy around me. The men in polyester suits were gone.The bailiffs had disappeared into the damp Milan morning, leaving the atelier looking almost abandoned empty brass racks, stripped mannequins, and carpet track marks like shallow graves.​By six o'clock this morning, the emergency seal at Moretti Tower had ended as suddenly as it began a "system glitch," Valeriano’s chief security detail had called it with a face like carved ice, But I knew better. It had been a warning. A subtle reminder of the dark, invisible forces circling the man whose ring I was about to wear.​The front glass doors opened with a soft, quick click, and Gianna slipped inside.​She looked exhau

Chapter 4Terms of Enslavement Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​The rain continued as we left the private club all the way to the upper glass spire of Moretti Tower.​The chaos in the dining room, the split second roar of gunfire, the shattering glass, the way Valeriano’s broad body had slammed over mine to shield me before his security neutralized the ambush was still ringing in my ears. I hadn't even been allowed to bleed or understand the danger. Before I could see clearly, I was swept into an armored vehicle and whisked up sixty five floors into his main headquarters.​Now, the executive suite was unusually quiet. The room smelled of expensive leather, cold rain against warm glass, and the remaining metallic smell of tension.​Valeriano stood near the window, unbuttoning his blood stained cuffs and rolling them up his forearms.He didn't look frightened. He looked like a man who had simply stepped out of a temporary inconvenience. The pale glow of the Milan skyline lit up

Chapter 3 The Ambush Meeting Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​The rain had turned the streets of Milan into black glass by the time the car pulled up outside Il Salotto, a private club hidden behind an unmarked limestone façade near the Galleria. There were no signboards, no paparazzi, only a heavy iron gate and a single guard who checked my name against a handwritten velvet guest list.​I got out of the car, pulling my wool coat tighter around my shoulders. My heart was beating closely, and I could feel it in my chest . I had refused the black sedan Valeriano had sent to my atelier a tiny act of resistance perhaps, but one I needed to keep my knees from buckling. Instead, I had driven myself, bringing only the leather folder containing the partially burned ledger and the notes Gianna had managed to pull from our server archives.​I was meeting a man named Signor Rossi, he is the chief rebuilding officer appointed by the central bank. Or at least, that was the name on the

CHAPTER 2 Shadow of the Syndicate​Valeriano Cosimo Moretti POV​From the sixty fifth floor of Moretti Tower, Milan looks less like a historic city and more like a grid of light waiting to be claimed. Rain covers the last large windows, turning the church tower in the distance into grey, jagged teeth.​"The acquisition of the logistics hub in Genoa is complete. Signor Moretti," my Chief Financial Officer said, holding out a tablet with shaking hands. "The board signed off ten minutes ago."​"Good," I said without turning around. My hands were held behind my back, the tailored wool of my suit jacket hiding the detailed dark ink that stretched across my shoulders and down my spine. a physical archive of blood, territory, and quiet vengeance. "Transfer forty percent of the available cash to our offshore holdings by midnight. Clear the remaining balance for the De Santis debt buyout."​"Understood, sir." The CFO bowed slightly and backed out of the private observation room,

Chapter 1The Gilded Ruins​Fiorenza Elettra De Santis POV​​The smell of mahogany and beeswax used to mean home, Now everything feels wrong and terrible.​I stood upstairs, holding the wooden railing of the second floor. I held the wooden rail so tightly that my fingers turned white. Below me, the ground floor of the De Santis Atelier, a space that had breathed life into Italian high fashion for over half a century was being stripped bare by men who didn't even have the decency to wipe their mud caked shoes on the welcome mat.​"Miss De Santis, the collection for the upcoming autumn runway has been taken to cover a huge debt.“a voice squeaked from behind me”​I didn't turn around immediately, I couldn't. I watched as two officers roughly dragged away a mannequin wearing a hand beaded red velvet gown, the last piece my father had ever touched with his own hands before he disappeared. I touched the small half moon shaped scar near my left collarbone. a nervous habit i always do whe