Chapter 4.

Luca's POV.

After that night with Adriana, I left the Moretti mansion without looking back. The guilt sat heavy on my shoulders, suffocating and cold. I had crossed a line I could never uncross, betrayed my own blood by laying with his wife.

But there was no time for regret in this life.

I was recently appointed the acting head of the Moretti organization so duty came first.

I flew out to Italy to tie up some loose ends in the family business. My guys had informed me that there's a mole in our organization. We found him holed up in a safehouse outside Milan. By the time I arrived, my men had already dragged him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

He was bound to a steel chair, beaten but defiant.

"You think you know pain?" I said quietly, rolling up my sleeves. "You haven't met me yet."

We don't leave traitors breathing. But first, he'd talk.

Hours passed. Bones cracked. Blood pooled. Still, he refused to speak. I was running out of patience so I let Matteo my right hand man takeover. I wanted to end him but Matteo insists we give it time.

I returned to the mansion days later. For days I stayed in my side of the mansion, giving strict orders to the servants that I didn’t want to be disturbed. Few times I caught a flip of Adriana but I pretended not to see her.

I wasn’t ready to face Vincent. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was ready to face her.

But I had to.

***

One evening I had returned from a meeting exhausted and then came Vincent.

Like a viper out of the shadows, he appeared, all rage and venom. His words were sharp, laced with contempt as he barked accusations I didn’t care to entertain. I bit down on my tongue, clenched my fists at my sides. I could end this, shut him up in a second, but Adriana stepped between us before I could react.

He shoved her. Hard.

That was it.

I moved instantly to her side and held out my hand for her and she took it. My jaw tightened as I looked into her eyes, filled with shock and pain. Vincent’s guilt flickered across his face, but it was too late. Damage done.

I helped her to her feet, my hand lingering on her arm longer than necessary. Then she let go of my hand and walked away.

Vincent was furious but I couldn't care less. As I headed towards my side of the mansion a part of me wondered if Adriana was okay so I had to check on her.

I went to her door.

I knocked once. "Adriana? Are you okay?"

Silence.

Then the click of the lock, and the door cracked open. She stood there, eyes red, tears drying on her cheeks. Her voice was fragile. "What do you want."

I stepped inside. The room was dim, the air heavy with emotion. The curtains were drawn.

"Adriana..." I began, my voice low. "I'm sorry for that night. For all of it. It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't mean to cross that line."

She turned away, her silence louder than any scream. I could see her shoulders trembling.

"I know it's not enough," I continued, stepping closer. "But if you ever need anything... I'm here. I'm not proud of what I did."

Her voice broke the silence. "Luca, none of this matters anymore. Vincent—he won't ever look at me the same. This marriage... it's over."

Guilt twisted in my chest. I had played a part in her downfall. Yet, deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that she never truly belonged to Vincent in the first place.

Then, a knock shattered the moment.

“Adriana?” Vincent’s voice came through the door. Calm, but strained. “I want to talk. Please open the door.”

Adriana’s breath hitched. She turned to me, panic flashing in her eyes.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered quickly.

Then louder, “Go away, Vincent. There’s nothing to talk about.”

I remained still in the dark corner of the room, watching her, watching the way she fought to stay strong, even when her world was crumbling.

The doorknob rattled violently.

Adriana froze, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back from the door. I could see the fear in her eyes, it wasn’t just fear of confrontation. It was fear of him.

“Please, Vincent,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

But Vincent wasn’t listening.

The door slammed open with brute force, crashing against the wall. Vincent stormed into the room like a man possessed, jaw clenched.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Adriana,” he growled, eyes blazing. “You’re my wife, and you’ll listen when I speak.”

He grabbed her arm, hard. Too hard.

She winced, and my blood turned cold.

"Enough," I said, stepping forward, my voice low and sharp, deadly quiet.

Vincent snapped his head toward me, rage twisting his features. "What the hell are you doing here?" he barked. "Get out of my wife’s room!"

"She doesn’t want to see you," I said, my jaw clenched. "And she damn sure doesn’t want to be manhandled."

He tightened his grip on her arm, a cruel smirk curving his lips. "Don’t tell me how to treat my wife, Luca. Haven’t you already crossed that line?"

Adriana struggled in his grasp, her eyes meeting mine. That was all I needed.

I stepped in between them.

My fist connected with his jaw. The sound echoed through the room like thunder. Vincent staggered back, blood already trickling from the corner of his mouth.

He looked up at me, stunned. "You hit me?"

"You touched her," I said, coldly. "I warned you."

Adriana clutched her arm, tears forming again, but she stood tall. There was strength in her even in the pain.

Vincent wiped the blood from his lip, his eyes filled with fury. “This isn’t over, Luca.”

“No,” I said, stepping in front of Adriana again, shielding her with my body.

Vincent stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

For a moment, silence.

Then Adriana’s breath caught, a shaky sob escaping her lips as she sank onto the edge of the bed.

I knelt in front of her, cautious, my voice low.

“Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes met mine, unreadable, a storm brewing behind them. When she finally spoke, her words cut sharper than any blade.

“I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of our business next time,” she said coldly. “Vincent is my husband. And you, you’re the reason all of this is falling apart.”

Her voice trembled, but not from weakness.

From fury. Guilt. Maybe heartbreak.

“Adriana…” I started, but she snapped.

“Get out!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Without another word, I stood and walked out, closing the door behind me.