Chapter 3: The predator’s eye

Lorenzo’s POV

The rain begins to fall in sheets, blurring the lights of the city into streaks of red and gold against the tinted windows of my Maybach.

I sit in the spacious, leather-scented interior of the backseat, my fingers drumming a slow, hypnotic beat on the armrest. In the dim light of the cabin, the smoke from my hand-rolled cigar curls toward the ceiling, filling the space with a rich, heavy aroma.

“So… she really is a Vance,” I say, my voice low but vibrating with authority.

From the front passenger seat, my personal assistant, Viktor, turns around slightly, his face illuminated by the glow of his tablet.

“The DNA profile matches, Don Lorenzo,” Viktor replies, his tone precise. “She is Nadia Vance. Frederick Vance’s only living child. She survived the fire from five years ago. Her aunt, Rosalind assumed guardianship alongside her husband, Lucas. They kept her hidden, working as a servant in their home , while draining her family’s fortune to fund their own lavish lifestyle.”

A cold, dark satisfaction settles deep in my chest.

Frederick Vance is the man who orchestrated the betrayal that led to my little sister’s death. For five long years, I believed the fire had robbed me of my vengeance, leaving me to rule the Romano Empire with shallow victory.

But destiny, it seems, is a cruel, beautiful thing. The Vance Bloodline lives.

Nadia Vance lives.

And her foolish uncle borrowed a huge amount of cash from my shell companies to keep his failing business empire afloat. He defaulted on the loan. He has no way to pay me back.

“She is the price for everything her family took from me,” I murmur, looking down at the surveillance photo Viktor has pulled up on the screen.

It is a shot of her leaving the bar, her dark bangs slightly parted to reveal the faint scar on her forehead.

She is beautiful — fragile, delicate, with a quiet strength in her eyes that intrigues me. Breaking her will not just be an act of vengeance. It will be an exquisite pleasure.

I pick up my phone and tap on an unsaved contact, sending a quick text with a dark smirk on my lips. I drop the phone on the seat and fix my gaze back on the photo on my tablet screen.

“Lei è mia,” I whisper in Italian. She is mine.

“Prepare the men. We will pay a visit to the Bennett mansion tomorrow. It is time to collect what is owed.”

—

Nadia’s POV

The next evening at the bar is a blur of noise and exhaustion. I stayed late to cover for a coworker who called in sick, desperate for the overtime pay.

The strange text from an unknown contact last night still replays in my mind. It’s was a wrong number. I say to myself.

By the time I unlock the front door of the Bennett mansion, the clock on my phone reads 9:30 PM. The house is eerily silent. The grand chandelier in the foyer dimmed to a low, amber glow.

I climb the stairs, my muscles aching with every step. All I want is to crawl into bed and sleep for twelve hours. I push my bedroom door open and step inside but freeze instantly.

The small lamp on my nightstand is turned on. Sitting on the edge of my bed, his legs stretched out with a disgusting, arrogant smirk on his face is Alex.

“What are you doing in my room, Alex?” I demand, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound firm. I keep my hand on the door knob behind me, keeping the exit clear. “Get out. Now.”

“Oh, come on, Nadia,” he purrs, sliding off the mattress and taking slow, deliberate steps toward me. The heavy smell of cheap whiskey rolls off him in waves. “You’ve been ignoring me lately, why’s that?”

“You disgust me,” I spit, my heart beginning to pound dangerously against my chest. “And you have no right to be in here. Leave, or I’ll scream.”

“Scream? To who? My parents?” He laughs, a dry, mocking sound. “They don’t care about you, Nadia. You are just a stray they took in out of charity. You should be grateful to us. In fact… I think it’s time you start showing some real gratitude.”

He lunges forward with a sudden, terrifying speed.

Before I can turn the door knob, his heavy hands slam against the wooden door on either side of my head, pinning me in place.

His face is inches away from mine, his hot, stinky alcohol laced breath fanning across my skin.

“Let go of me!” I shriek, pressing my palm against his chest, trying to push his heavy frame away.

“Come on, Nadia. Just be quiet and let me have a little fun,” he mutters, his eyes dark with a sickening intent. He grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling roughly. The fabric tears with a loud, violent rip, exposing the skin of my collarbone and shoulder.

A wave of pure terror washes over me. Using every ounce of strength in my body, I bring my knee up with explosive force, striking him directly between the legs.

Alex let’s out a pitched strangled gasp and immediately collapses on his knees, his hand clutching his groin as his face contorted with agony.

Before he can recover, I reach into my shoulder bag, pull out the small canister of pepper spray I kept for my walks home, and unleashed a thick, burning stream directly into his eyes.

“Argh! You stupid, crazy bitch!” Alex screams, clawing at his face as the chemical takes effect.

I don’t waste a single second, I grab his collar , dragging his groaning body out of my room and shoved him into the carpeted hallway.

I slam the door shut, turn the lock and slid the heavy wooden chair from my desk underneath the door knob.

I back away from the door as silent tears of anger and fear spills down my cheeks. This is not the first time. This has been going on for a long time now.

His parents knows, but they did nothing about, letting me develop a terrible phobia because of it.

I look down at my torn shirt, my body shaking uncontrollably. I can’t stay here anymore. It isn’t safe. I have to leave this house. I have to leave this family.