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Chapter 20
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In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 20
(Amelia's POV)The sound of the Valenti cars fading into the distance was the only eulogy the old world would get. I stood in the vast, silent factory, the smell of gunpowder and blood thick in my throat, the folded resignation paper feeling like a lead weight in my hand."Consider it my resignation from your life."His words echoed in the emptiness he left behind. There had been no plea in his eyes, no final attempt at possession. Only a profound, weary finality. He had looked at me, and for the first time, he had truly seen me—not as his Amelia, not as his ghost, not even as his enemy—but as a separate, autonomous entity. And he had let me go.The victory felt hollow. Matteo was wounded and captured, his ambition broken. The man I had once loved had just surrendered his entire world and walked away. Sofia was gone, back to the brother she, despite everything, still loved. I was alone, standing atop a pyramid of ashes.In the days that followed, the Rossi family descended into chaos.
In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 19
(Lorenzo's POV)The cold promise of that blade against my skin was a watershed. It severed the last, fraying thread of denial. For a week, I retreated into the penthouse, not as a king to his throne, but as a wounded animal to its den. The silence was no longer empty; it was filled with the echoes of my own failures. I stood at the windows for hours, tracing the paths of headlights far below, each one a reminder of a city moving on without me. I didn't touch the financial reports or the intelligence briefings. Their dry, factual language couldn't capture the truth I was finally forced to confront: I had lost her. Not to death, but to my own monumental blindness. The obsession that had driven me for months now felt like a sickness, and the only cure was a surrender so complete it felt like amputation.It was in this state of hollowed-out resignation that Marco found me. He didn't knock, simply entered, his face grim. "Don Valenti," he said, his voice cutting through the stagnant air. "
In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 18
(Lorenzo's POV)The humiliation of that night in the alley burned hotter than any anger I had ever known. Lying on the wet concrete, the taste of blood and defeat in my mouth, as Amelia—Eva—stood over me with a gun... it was a nadir I had never imagined possible. She hadn't just rejected me; she had physically dominated me, disarmed me, and left me broken on the ground. The memory was a brand on my pride, a scar that throbbed with every beat of my heart.For days, I was a storm contained within the walls of my penthouse. I broke things—a priceless vase she had once admired, the crystal glasses we had toasted with, the monitor displaying the financial reports that testified to her continued success. I roared at shadows, at Marco's cautious presence, at the silent, judging walls that seemed to echo with her final words: "The next time you come for me, I won't miss."The cold, calculating Don was gone, replaced by a raw, wounded animal. Marco knew better than to approach me with anythin
In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 17
(Lorenzo's POV)The realization that I was being played—that my single-minded focus on Amelia was blinding me to Matteo's broader power grab—was a humiliation that cut deeper than any blade. I had become the distraction. I, Lorenzo Valenti, had been reduced to a pawn in my own war, led around by the nose by the very woman I was trying to corner.The fury that followed was cold and sharp, a tool to be wielded, not a fire to be unleashed. I called Marco to my study, the maps of the city spread before us like a patient etherized upon a table."Enough," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the obsessive heat that had fueled me for weeks. "The personal attacks on Eva Rossi cease. Effective immediately."Marco looked at me, surprised. "Don Valenti?""She's a siren song, Marco. And I've been steering my ship directly onto the rocks." I pointed to the territories we had taken from Lombardi, the ones now subtly tinged with Rossi influence. "This is the real battlefield. Not her logistics divisions,
In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 16
(Lorenzo's POV)The drive back from the gala was a blur of cold fury and a strange, hollow ache. The image of Amelia—Eva—was burned into my mind. The emerald dress, the elegant twist of her hair, the cool, dismissive gaze that held none of the warmth I had spent months mourning. She wasn't just alive; she was thriving. And she had looked at me as if I were a stranger. A troublesome one at that.Sofia didn't speak a word during the ride home. The tension between us was a physical presence in the back of the Maybach, thick and suffocating. When the car pulled into the compound, she got out and walked inside without a backward glance. The divide was now a chasm, and I knew with chilling certainty that my sister had chosen her side. She had chosen her.I went straight to my study, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the noisy chaos in my head. I poured a whiskey, the amber liquid doing nothing to burn away the cold knot in my gut. She had called our past a "country she had no des
In His Shadow, in His Bed Chapter 15
(Lorenzo's POV)This changed everything. The war was no longer a straightforward campaign against the Rossis. It was a tangled web, and my own sister was a thread woven deep within it. I couldn't storm the Rossi stronghold without potentially endangering her. I couldn't confront her directly without confirming my suspicions and risking her fleeing to Amelia's side completely.I needed a new strategy. I needed to see this new Amelia for myself. This "Eva Rossi."An opportunity presented itself within days. A high-profile charity gala at the city's art museum. The kind of event Matteo Rossi would use to launder his reputation and showcase his newfound "legitimacy." Intel suggested his inner circle, including his new strategic consultant, would be in attendance.I would go. Not as a predator crashing the gates, but as a ghost from her past, stepping back into her present.The night arrived. I stood before the floor-length mirror in my penthouse, adjusting the cufflinks of my tuxedo. The m
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