LOGINVictor’s POV Don Francesco’s invitation wasn’t a surprise. If anything, I’d been expecting it. Word travels fast in our world—faster when blood, pride, and a pregnant woman are involved. Salvo had already filled me in on everything: Amara storming Don Francesco’s villa, the confrontation with Ginevra, the shove, the fall, the hospital. Alessandro, of course, knew nothing. And he wouldn’t—not from me. Let him enjoy his little escape in Genoa. Every illusion shatters eventually, and I preferred to watch when it did. As soon as I arrived at the villa, I saw her. Ginevra sat near the courtyard, a servant carefully working on her hair like nothing in the world was falling apart. She looked composed, but I knew better. Vulnerability clung to her like a second skin, and I would never miss a chance to press where it hurt. “I heard she came here to fight you,” I said casually, stepping closer. “First she chased you out of Alessandro’s life. Then his house. Now I suppose she’s working on
Alessandro’s POV Warm water ran down my back, steam filling the bathroom as I stood under the shower longer than necessary, letting the noise drown out my thoughts. I heard the knock. Once. Then again, firmer this time. “Alessandro,” Matteo’s voice came through the door. “Your phone keeps ringing. I think it’s important.” I shut my eyes. Matteo never interrupted me in the shower. Not unless it mattered. “I’ll be out,” I called back. There was a pause. Then the door opened just enough for him to extend his arm inside, holding my phone away from the steam. He didn’t look at the screen—at least, it didn’t seem like he did. I chose to believe that. “Who is it?” I asked. “Damian,” Matteo replied. “He’s called more than once.” That confirmed it. “Leave it there,” I said, gesturing toward the counter. “I’ll check it.” Matteo hesitated for a fraction of a second, then placed the phone down and closed the door without another word. The silence that followed felt heavier than b
Amara’s POV I didn’t remember the fall. I didn’t remember the pain, or the scream, or the moment the world must have gone dark after Ginevra pushed me. Everything after Don Francesco’s villa existed only as fragments—shadows I couldn’t reach, sounds that dissolved the moment I tried to hold on to them. When I finally woke up, it felt like I was surfacing from deep water. My body was heavy. My throat is dry. My stomach—my stomach ached in a way that made fear bloom instantly in my chest. “Elena?” My voice came out broken. She was there immediately. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red, her hair loosely tied as if she’d forgotten about everything else except staying right there beside me. The moment she saw my eyes open, she grabbed my hand like she was afraid I would disappear again. “Signora,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Thank God.” That was when I knew. Something terrible had happened. I tried to sit up, panic flooding me a
Alessandro’s POV The week after the delivery incident passed in a silence that felt heavier than gunfire. Not the kind of silence that comes with peace—but the kind that presses against your chest, reminding you that something is wrong even when no one says it out loud. Matteo and I still spoke, if you could even call it that. Short exchanges. Necessary words. Questions that had nothing beneath them. “Food’s ready.” “We’re heading out later.” “Lock the door.” That was all. No laughter. No reckless stories. No women calling his phone every five minutes. No club nights. No underground casino runs. Matteo—the man who once lived like the night owed him everything—had gone still. Too still. He didn’t set foot into a club the entire week. Didn’t disappear for hours chasing pleasure. Didn’t brag about winnings or curse losses. He stayed indoors more than usual, cleaning his gun more than necessary, staring at nothing for long stretches of time. And silence like that doesn’t come
Amara’s POV We had expected tears. Begging. Even shame.What we didn’t expect was hatred.Instead of remorse, Matilde lifted her chin and laughed bitterly. “This is your fault,” she said, pointing straight at me. “Everything that’s happening is because of you.”Elena and I froze.Before I could even process her words, a sharp sound cut through the room.Slap.Elena’s palm landed hard against Matilde’s cheek, unapologetic, echoing through the walls. Matilde staggered slightly, her hand flying to her face, eyes wide with shock. For a brief moment, I thought the blow might knock some sense into her.It didn’t.She straightened, her eyes burning. “You forced your way into the Vitale villa,” she spat, glaring at me. “Ever since you came, everything changed. Signorina Ginevra was pushed out of Alessandro’s life. I became nothing. Nothing! It was never like this before you married him.”Her words sliced through me.“You destroyed everything,” she continued, her voice rising. “All I ever wan
Amara’s POV The house felt too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of silence that came with early mornings or late nights, but the heavy, watchful kind—the kind that made every footstep echo and every shadow seem intentional. We were still in the middle of searching the villa for the missing pregnancy test, and with every passing hour, the weight of it pressed harder on my chest. Today, I had sent all the servants on errands. Every single one of them. At the moment, only Elena and I remained in the villa, the large estate suddenly feeling smaller, tighter, as if the walls themselves were listening. It had been Elena’s idea, and the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. She said we couldn’t search properly with so many people moving in and out, watching, listening, reporting. Whoever had gone through her room—whoever had turned her things upside down and taken the pregnancy result—wasn’t a stranger. They lived here. That realization alone sent a chill down my spine. The







