Chapter 5: Smile Like a Knife

The velvet cushion still held the echo of her clenched hands.

Siena stood, turned — and without a word, reached for Adriano’s hand. Her fingers slid into his, warm and steady, then deliberately guided it to rest on her lower back.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t question.

But his fingers shifted, just enough to say: I’m here.

She let herself breathe once — only once — before nodding. “Let’s go.”

Together, they moved down the hallway. As they reached the arched entrance, Siena straightened her shoulders and walked in without hesitation.

The conversation inside faltered for a beat. Then resumed.

Marco was still there. Of course he was. Glass in hand, stories spilling from his mouth. He didn’t notice her at first.

Then he did.

And like that, she owned the room.

Adriano pulled out her chair. She sat, fluid, controlled. Crossed one leg over the other and reached for her wine.

“Zurich still treating you well?” she asked, her tone light, almost careless.

Marco blinked. “You —”

She didn’t wait.

“You disappeared, Marco. Some people would call that cowardice. I call it strategy. The kind used by traitors.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought we left the past behind.”

Siena’s laugh was soft, dangerous. “Oh, darling. I never leave anything behind. Especially not debts.”

A quiet spread at their end of the table. Adriano, beside her, said nothing — just rested his arm along the back of her chair, casual, unshakable.

She swirled the wine in her glass. “To debts, then.”

She drank.

And in her chest, the fire was calm. Cold. Ready.

Because this time, she was the storm.

---

Marco’s jaw tightened. “Still theatrical, I see,” he said. “Always had a flair for making everything about you, Siena. Drama queen from day one.”

She raised an eyebrow, sipping her wine. “And yet, you followed me like a puppy. Strange how that works.”

His voice darkened. “You were reckless. Obsessed with your father’s empire, like it was some sacred mission. You dragged me into your delusions.”

Before Siena could answer, the chair beside her shifted.

Adriano stood.

Slowly. Deliberately.

The table went quiet again.

His voice, when it came, was low and cutting. “You dragged her into it, Marco? That’s bold. Considering you were the one who handed her over like a coward.”

Marco’s smirk faltered. “Excuse me?”

Adriano stepped closer. “No need to pretend. I’ve read the files. I’ve seen the signatures. You sold her out — for a clean record and a one-way ticket to Zurich.”

Marco’s eyes darted to Siena. “You told him?”

“She didn’t have to,” Adriano said. “I made it my business to find out who broke her. And now I get to look him in the eyes.”

The air tightened.

Marco stood abruptly, hand gripping the back of his chair. “You think you know everything? You don’t know what it was like—”

“I don’t need to know what it was like,” Adriano snapped. “I know what you did. And I know what she survived. So you don’t get to talk to her like that. Not here. Not ever.”

Silence.

Marco swallowed, looking from Adriano to Siena. She hadn’t moved — just watched, eyes steady, heart drumming slow and sure behind her ribs.

She tilted her head. “You were saying something, Marco?”

He hesitated. Then sat down. Fast.

Adriano remained standing a moment longer, then returned to his seat beside her, calm slipping back into place — but his eyes never left Marco’s face.

Siena leaned close, her voice just for Adriano. “You didn’t have to.”

He didn’t smile. Just took her hand under the table, firm and grounding.

“I wanted to.”

And for the first time in six years, Siena didn’t feel alone at the table.

---

A sharp clatter of heels on marble broke the quiet.

The doors to the dining hall flew open.

Elena stood at the threshold, breathless, one hand gripping the frame.

“Adriano,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s Lucia. She’s gone.”

Siena’s blood froze. The wine glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.

“Gone?” she whispered, already rising. “What do you mean gone?”

“She’s not in her room. The window’s open. The guards didn’t see anyone leave.”

Adriano was on his feet in an instant.

“No one leaves the estate,” he said coldly. “Lock the gates. Double the perimeter watch. Now.”

Elena nodded and disappeared before the echo of his words had faded.

Siena clutched his sleeve, her voice trembling. “She wouldn’t go off on her own. She’s too small. Someone—someone took her.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

Adriano turned to the rest of the room — the long table, the guests frozen mid-bite, eyes wide.

“No one leaves,” he repeated, voice cutting like a blade. “Until we find my daughter.”

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