Chapter Six - Elio

Sleep transforms her into something almost innocent. I watch Aleta’s chest rise and fall in steady rhythm while my conscience wages war against five years of carefully cultivated hatred. Her face, relaxed in unconsciousness, bears no trace of the Ricci arrogance that has poisoned my dreams.

Building lies requires more creativity than I anticipated. My laptop screen nearly blinds me in the darkness as I fabricate digital evidence of our supposed marriage—doctored photographs, fake certificates, invented memories that blend truth with fiction. Each keystroke should feel like victory, yet guilt creeps in.

“You’re working late.” Matteo’s voice interrupts my concentration as he enters the study.

“Creating a life story takes time.” My fingers pause over the keyboard. “How does one explain three years of secret marriage to someone with no memory?”

“Carefully,” he replies as he settles into the leather chair across from my desk. “Boss, you sure about this? The woman’s been through hell.”

“Her brother put me through worse. Nico destroyed everything I built, turned my own allies against me, and left me for dead in that hospital. Now fate delivers his most precious possession into my hands.”

“She’s not a possession, she’s a person.” Disapproval saturates his tone. “A vulnerable person who trusts you.”

Trust. The word sits heavy between us like an unwelcome guest. Through the doorway, I watch Aleta toss and turn in her sleep, and something uncomfortable takes root in my stomach.

“Nico made his choice five years ago,” I continue, returning to the fabricated documents. “Every decision has consequences.”

“What happens when her memory returns?”

My hands still on the keyboard once again. “Moretti says it might never return. Hippocampal damage can be permanent.”

“And if it does?”

The question I’ve been avoiding surfaces like a splinter under skin. When Aleta remembers everything—our summer in Italy and the lies I’ve made up—what then? Will she understand why I took this path, or will she see only another betrayal?

“We’ll handle that problem when it arises. For now, she believes we’re married. That gives me time to expose Nico’s crimes and show her what kind of man her brother really is.”

Matteo drums his fingers against the armrest. “You realize you’re playing with fire? Her family  will come for you if this gets out.”

“Her family has been coming for me since I was born.” I close the laptop and lean back in my chair. “The Castellanos and Riccis have been enemies for three generations. This gives me an edge unlike any we’ve ever had before.”

Despite this, Kidnapping Nico’s sister—even if she believes she chose to stay—crosses lines that can’t be uncrossed. When this ends, someone will be dead. Of that, I’m certain.

My phone vibrates against the mahogany desktop, and the caller ID makes my blood run cold.

“Speak,” I answer, keeping my voice level.

“Nico’s mobilizing,” reports Marco, one of my informants embedded in the Ricci organization. “Every soldier, every contact, every favor owed. He’s offering fifty thousand for information about his sister’s whereabouts.”

Fifty thousand. That’s excessive. The man has only ever cared about his sister when she makes him look bad. Why would he offer so much? “Timeline?”

“Started this morning. Word is he thinks you took her. Your name’s been mentioned specifically in the briefings.”

Expected, but still dangerous. “What else?”

“He’s questioning everyone who was at the gala, checking hospital records, reviewing security footage from a ten-block radius.” Marco’s voice drops lower. “Boss, he’s desperate. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Desperate men make mistakes, but they also take risks that rational people avoid. “Keep monitoring. Report anything unusual.”

After ending the call, I find Matteo studying my expression with knowing eyes.

“Nico’s on the hunt,” I explain unnecessarily.

“How long before he connects the dots?”

“Days, maybe weeks if we’re careful.” I stand and walk to the window overlooking the city skyline. “The beauty of this plan is that he’ll never believe I’d be stupid enough to keep her. He’ll assume I killed her or sold her to enemies.”

“Unless someone saw you at the harbor.”

The possibility has haunted me since that night. Pier 14 isn’t exactly private, and my face is known throughout the criminal underworld. One witness, one security camera, one mistake, and everything unravels.

“We were careful,” I repeat, though doubt seeps  into my voice.

From the bedroom, Aleta calls out in her sleep—wordless sounds of distress that make something protective come alive in my chest, which makes absolutely no sense. When did I start caring about her comfort beyond its usefulness to my plan?

“I should check on her,” I tell Matteo before moving toward the bedroom.

“Boss,” he calls out. “Remember why you’re doing this. Don’t let pity cloud your judgment. I may not agree with what you’re doing, but if you’re going to do it anyway, you better get it right. For all our sakes.”

Pity. If only it were that simple. What I feel when I look at Aleta’s trusting face goes deeper than pity. It’s far more dangerous than sympathy. She represents everything I lost five years ago—innocence, hope, the possibility of something real in a world built on lies.

But she’s also Nico’s sister, and that makes her both weapon and liability in equal measure.

Standing in the doorway, I watch her sleep and wonder which will prove stronger—my thirst for revenge or the growing need to protect the woman I’m supposed to be using.

The answer might destroy us both.