LOGINDante’s pov
Marco Virelli sat across from me, hands spread wide on the table like he was laying out a map of the future. “With this marriage,” he said, “the Virelli family won’t just hold the north. We’ll own it, stronger than before.” His voice was too eager. Too practiced. Liked he’d rehearsed this in front of a mirror. I nodded once and said nothing. The room was too warm. The silver on the table caught the light and threw it back at me in sharp flashes. I kept my eyes on my hands instead. He noticed my silence and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What do you think?” He asks me. I felt the eye roll before I could stop it. Small but enough for him to see. If it weren’t for the agreement with his father, I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time. I set my glass down. The sound was quiet, but it made him pause. “Do you know why this marriage is happening?” I kept my voice flat. Cold. “To call a truce,” he said, too fast. I shook my head. “Wrong” I let the word hang. Watched him shift in his seat. “This marriage is payment,” I said. “For the debt your father couldn’t cover. So if I were you, I wouldn’t start making demands I can’t afford” He swallowed. His throat worked once, hard. I smiled, slow and deliberate. “Who knows. Maybe next time I’ll ask for your mother instead.” His face went still. “She does look good for her age, doesn’t she?” He recoiled as if I’d struck him. I laugh short and sharp. “ I’m joking,” I said. He didn’t laugh back. His eyes flicked between mine, trying to decide if I meant it or not. I didn’t correct him. Let him sit in it. Let him wonder what I’d actually do. “So” I said, and his attention snapped back to me. “I want your sister to come live with me.” He froze “Why so soon? We can wait till after the wedding” I kept my voice low and even. “After the wedding isn’t an option” I didn’t tell him the truth. It had been eight months and I still remember exactly how she felt in my hands. The waiting was starting to feel impossible. Instead, I said, “The moment I put that ring on her finger, she became mine, and I don’t share what belongs to me.” He measures his next words carefully, trying not to trip the wire. “I understand that,” He said “but it isn’t ethical for a woman to live with a man before marriage” I looked at him. Cold. “I’m sorry, did I sound like I was asking ?” His mouth opened. Closed. “I wasn’t asking for permission,” I said. “She’s mine. I’ll do with her as I please.” I stood up and walked out. He hastily followed behind me. “I’m not trying to dictate what you do…..” “So it’s decided,” I cut him off without breaking stride.“She’ll come live with me.” He nodded in agreement. “Yes. Of course, she will” We stepped into the living room. Lena sat on the sofa beside her mother. Both of their heads turned toward us as we entered. “Tonight was pleasant,” I said to Ms. Virelli., “ But we’re leaving now“ Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “It was wonderful having you here.” I looked down at Lena. My voice is calm and steady. “Get up” She didn’t move. Her eyes flicked to her brother, searching for something in his face. “Lena” he said, tone sharp. “You heard him. Get up” She turned to her mother instead, looking confused. Her mother moves first, stepping in front of her. “Lorenzo darling, what’s going on” His face hardened. “She will be staying with the Morettis as of today.” “So she can start packing” “Why?” Her mother asked, voice rising. I stepped in before he could answer. I reached out, thumb brushing Lena’s cheek slow and deliberate. “Because she’ll be safer at my house” I said. “I don’t want anything happening to my fiancée” Her mother’s jaw tightened. “She’s perfectly fine in this house “ A frown pulled at my mouth. “Like I told your son earlier, I don’t need anyone’s permission to take what’s mine.” I nodded to Lena. “Go to your room. Pack. You have five minutes” She didn’t move right away. Her eyes went to her brother first, then her mother, waiting for one of them to say no. Neither of them did. So she stood and walked out. I watched her go. This wasn’t the same Lena I’d met that night. That Lena had taken charge and didn’t wait for permission. The girl in front of me now was quiet, waiting to be told what to do.Lena’s POVI’m dreaming of nothin, when the hand closes around my throat.It happens so fast that for one second I think I’m still asleep, that this is just some nightmare my broken brain is conjuring out of everything I’ve heard today. Then the pressure bears down, cutting off my air completely, and every nerve in my body screams that this is real.My eyes fly open. A shadow looms over me in the dark, a ski mask blotting out any features, just the glint of eyes catching what little moonlight slips through the curtains. I claw upward instantly, fingers scrabbling for the mask, for anything, but he’s got leverage on me, his weight pinning me down, and my broken, healing body has nothing left to fight him with.No. No, no, no…..I try to scream and nothing comes out, just a strangled, airless rasp. I buck against him, shoving at his chest, his arms, anywhere I can reach, but the hand only presses harder, and black spots start blooming at the edges of my vision
Lena’s POVDiego’s arm is careful around my waist as he helps me down the hallway, taking my weight so gently like I might shatter if he grips too hard.“I can walk on my own,” I tell him, already easing myself out of his hold, proving the point.And the second I do, pain rips up through my ribs so sharp I gasp out loud,Diego catches me instantly, his arm tightening back around me before I can fall. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” he says quickly, guiding me the rest of the way to the bed and lowering me down onto it with care. “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have let go.”“It’s not your fault.” I press a hand to my side, breathing through the ache until it dulls back down to something bearable. “I’m the one who thought I could play hero.”He hovers there a second too long, like he’s not sure whether to sit or stand or say something else, before he finally settles on the edge of the mattress, “Are you okay?”I nod, even though okay feels like a generous word for whatever this is. My side thro
Dante’s POVFor one full second, I don’t move. Kovacs’ father.Then I straighten up, rolling my shoulders back and making my face unreadable. Whatever this man came here expecting, he isn’t going to get the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.“Diego.” I raise my voice, “Help take Lena upstairs.”“Dante I…..” Lena starts, her hand finding my sleeve.“Now, please,” I say, not taking my eyes off Volkov. I press my hand briefly over hers, just enough to soften the order, but she flinches. Diego is already moving, sliding an arm carefully around Lena’s waist to help her up, and I hear her murmuring a protest even as he steers her toward the stairs. Good boy. At least he knows when not to argue with me.Only once I hear their footsteps fade up the staircase do I turn my full attention back to the man standing in my dining room like he owns it.“Pakhan Volkov.” I let the name sit in my mouth. “That’s a name I’ve heard. Never thought I’d have the pleasure.”
Lena's POVThe door clicks shut behind my mother, and the silence that follows presses down on me like a weight.I'm alone with him.Dante hasn't moved from where he stood after Mama left, his broad shoulders still tense, his jaw still tight with whatever anger he's swallowing down. I pull the blanket higher over my lap, suddenly aware of how thin my nightgown is, how exposed I feel under his gaze.*He shot you three times.*My mother's words echo in my head, looping over and over. I study him now, the sharp line of his jaw, the hard set of his mouth, the way his hands, when they're not clenched into fists, look big enough to do exactly what she said they did.Could those hands have pulled a trigger on me?I don't know why, but some small, stubborn part of me resists the thought. It doesn't fit. Nothing about it feels right. But then, what do I know? I don't remember anything. I'm building a person out of fragments and a stranger's instructions.
Chapter 114 BONUS POV - Cara's POVThat help Maria is in my kitchen.Well, not my kitchen. His kitchen. But it should be mine. If Lena had listened to me, if she had just killed him when I asked her to, I wouldn't have to be sneaking around a house that belongs to a man I despise.I enter the kitchen and there she is, plating a bowl of soup. The smell is bland. No seasoning. White people soup for a sick person.She doesn't even look up when I walk in. The disrespect."Give it to me," I say.Maria finally looks at me, eyeing me with pure disgust. The feeling is mutual."No," she says flatly, in that thick Italian accent. "I am taking it to Madam Lena.""This is for Lena, isn't it?" I snap, stepping closer."Yes.""Then I'll take it to her. She's my daughter."Maria holds the tray tighter. "No. You will not take it to her.” she says, “Lena needs real care. You can't provide such care, so you should leave. Go sit."Excuse me?
Dante's POVI stand by the window in our bedroom — her bedroom now, I suppose — watching her. She's sitting up against the headboard, the blanket pulled up to her chest and she hasn't said anything since Cara left."Lena?"She blinks. "Hmm?"“I asked if you wanted water," I say. "You didn't answer.""Oh. No. I'm fine."She's not fine. Something is off. Ten minutes ago, she was snapping at me for arguing with her about everything. Now she's suddenly quiet.I walk closer, slowly, so I don't spook her. I sit on the edge of the bed."Are you in pain again? Do you want me to call the doctor?"She shakes her head. "No.""Lena."She finally looks at me properly. Really looks. Her eyes roam across my face — my forehead, my eyes, my mouth, my jaw — so tenderly, and just the way she used to look at me in the mornings when she thought I was still asleep.For a second, my heart stops.Does she remember?"Tesoro?" I whisper.Her ey







