Masuk(Authorās POV) Vincenzoās words landed like a physical blow, stripping the arrogance straight off Tiziana and Stefanoās faces. The shame that followed was thick, suffocating, almost impossible to ignore. Carmelita didnāt hesitate for even a second. A sharp, mocking laugh slipped past her lips, cutting cleanly through the silence that had settled over the group. āWow,ā she drawled, her voice carrying easily to everyone nearby. āStraight to āMamaā? And here I was being accused of spreading rumors. That has to be the joke of the year.ā Whispers erupted around them almost instantly. The surrounding guests leaned in subtly, their gazes sharpening as they dissected Stefano with open curiosity and thinly veiled disdain. Stefano stood frozen in place, his face burning as humiliation crept under his skin. For a fleeting moment, he wished the polished marble floor beneath his feet would crack open and swallow him whole. Serenaās expression twisted as though she had just tasted something s
(Celesteās POV) I didnāt want to play along, but I had absolutely no choice. A few yards away, around the blind corner of the terrace, the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing and heavy, desperate breathing echoed through the night air. It was excruciating. My ears burned. The intrusion was so clear, so intimate, that a wave of sharp discomfort mixed with irritation washed over me. I was trapped in the dark with a stranger, listening to his brother cheat on his wife. I tried to lift my head, pressing my hands lightly against the solid wall of muscle in front of me. We were too close, far beyond the boundaries of social comfort. Our bodies were pressed together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. Just as I shifted, a large, warm hand clamped onto the back of my head. Vincenzo was dominant. He forced my face back against his broad, hard chest. The scent of cold cedarwood filled my nose, mixed with the faint trace of tobacco lingering in the night air. I usually detested men who smoked.
(Authorās POV) The black sedan sliced through the busy Milan night. Inside, the air pressure dropped to freezing point. Stefano sat like a stone statue, his face frosty. He had not said a word since they left the boutique. Tiziana sat beside him, her nerves frayed. She watched his profile, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The chemistry that usually filled the car was dead, replaced by a suffocating silence. She glanced down at Bianca, who had exhausted herself crying and was now asleep in her lap. Tiziana stroked the childās hair absently, her mind racing. The divorce papers. They were still sitting in the nightstand drawer in the master bedroom. Should she remind him to sign them tonight? She bit her lip. No. It was too risky. If Stefano realized Celeste was serious about leaving, his pride might make him refuse just to spite her. Or worse, he might try to keep her. She did not dare make a move. Stefano was not thinking about divorce papers. He closed
(Celeste Morettiās POV) Vincenzoās low, magnetic voice echoed through the boutique, dripping with undisguised mockery. āLittle girl, where are your manners?ā The air in the shop seemed to freeze. I stared at him in shock, my hand instinctively clutching the neckline of the dress. I never expected to see him here, of all places. Stefano and Tiziana looked at him, their expressions shifting from annoyance to wariness. The man standing before them exuded a suffocating pressure, an aura of absolute command that did not match his simple action of holding a suit jacket. Because Vincenzo had been managing the overseas markets for years and had only recently returned to Los Angeles to take the helm of Vitale Group International, very few people outside the core board of directors knew his face. To Stefano and Tiziana, he was just an arrogant stranger interfering in their business. They had no idea they were glaring at the supreme ruler of their own family tree, the man whose name alone
(Celeste Morettiās POV)The VIP ward was so quiet I couldnāt hear the hum of a single machine. The air didnāt smell of antiseptic, but of fresh lilies arranged in a crystal vase.Leo leaned back against the plush pillows, his lips pale, and he looked at me with hesitant eyes.āThe mysterious sponsor⦠is it Stefano Conti?āMy hand paused over the apple I was peeling, and the skin broke.āNo,ā I said firmly. āIt isnāt.āThe light in his eyes dimmed, and he looked down at his hands.āI knew it. He must want to cut off my medical bills,ā Leo whispered. āIām just a burden. Iāve dragged you down for years, and now Iām making you suffer in that family.āI set the fruit knife down on the bedside table with a soft clatter, then reached out and gently ruffled his hair.āDonāt say that. The suffering I went through was my own choice. I was blinded by love,ā I said softly. āNow that I see Stefano for who he really is, Iām free. I just want God to help you recover.āA shadow passed over his face.
(Authorās POV) Stefano Conti was jerked awake by the harsh ringing of his phone. The digital clock read 5:00 AM, and his heart pounded heavily in his chest. Only a disaster of serious magnitude could justify a call at such an hour. He grabbed his phone, his expression darkening when he saw it was his PR Director. The manās voice trembled through the line. āMr. Conti, you need to check X. Now.ā āWhat is it?ā Stefano demanded, already sitting upright. āItās a bribery scandal involving Miss Bianca Contiās preschool. The hashtags #ContiEntitlement and #VittoriaCrownCorruption have been trending all night.ā Stefano opened his tablet, and whatever remained of his sleep vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, controlled fury. The internet was merciless. Someone had leaked an audio recording of Tiziana at the school. Her voice rang out clearly, arrogant and sharp. āMy time is billed by the minute⦠Conti family funding.ā Stefanoās jaw tightened painfully. Tiziana had no idea the kind
Stefano's POVThe video conference with the European branch finally ended. I closed my laptop and rubbed the tension from my temples. It was ten oāclock at night, and the house was quiet, almost too quiet. I walked down the hallway toward Biancaās room. The door was open, but the bed was empty. Th
(Celesteās POV) I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the hotel suite, staring out at the skyline. Everything about it felt cold and distant, like I was looking at a world I no longer belonged to. āCeleste, pack your bags,ā Carmelita said, pacing the room restlessly. She kept glancing towar
(Celeste Morettiās POV) The words had barely left my mouth when I heard it. A low, powerful engine rolling up the drive. The black Rolls-Royce Phantom. Stefano Conti. I stood still, brushing the ash from my palms, my face carefully blank. There was nothing left in me to react to his arrival. B
(Celesteās POV) Back at my temporary apartment, I opened my laptop and typed āVitale Group Internationalā into the search bar. The screen flooded with information about the massive conglomerate. It was a Fortune 500 titan, a business empire that Ivy League graduates would do anything to be part o







