5: The New Empire

Chiara Moretti

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of my bedroom. I sat up slowly, my body felt heavy, but my mind was racing. Last night's gala was a success. I had faced the monsters of my past, and I did not break.

But as my eyes landed on the small nightstand next to my bed, my breathing hitched. Lying right there was the black business card Marco had slipped into my hand.

I reached out and picked it up. His name was printed in bold, arrogant silver letters. Marco Mancini. CEO.

Holding the card, a cold wave of doubt washed over me. It was easy to put on a beautiful dress and act arrogant at a party. But this? A real business meeting?

I had signed my own company away to Marco. He was greedy, but he wasn't stupid when it came to making money. If I were going to call him... I had to know what I was doing. I couldn't just pretend to be a CEO.

I actually had to be one.

I threw the covers off and got out of bed. I washed my face, threw on a simple pair of jeans and a white sweater, and hurried downstairs. The grand mansion was quiet. I found Alessandro in the main dining room, sitting at the long table with a cup of black coffee and a newspaper in his hands.

He looked up as I walked in. His eyes scanned my face, and he instantly read my panic. "Good morning," he said, his voice calm and deep. "You look like you are going to war."

I pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "I feel like I am. I have Marco's card upstairs. I am supposed to call him."

"And?" he asked, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

"And I don't know anything!" I blurted out, my voice rising. "I am not really Viviana Marino. I don't own a tech company, I don't produce wine in Southern Europe."

Alessandro set his cup down. He didn't look worried at all. A small, knowing smile touched his lips. "You worry too much, Viviana," he said.

"I have to worry!" I argued. "If he finds out who I am, he will try to finish what he started."

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "He will never find out. And you will not fail." He stood up from his chair. "Go upstairs and change. Put on something sharp. A business suit, I have something to show you."

I frowned, confused. "Where are we going?"

"Just go get dressed," he said gently. "Trust me."

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of his sleek black car. I wore a dark blue tailored suit that hugged my waist and made me look tall and serious. My hair was pulled back into a neat, sharp ponytail.

Alessandro drove us through the busy streets of the city. We drove past luxury stores, big hotels, and crowded cafes. I kept looking out the window, trying to guess where we were heading.

Finally, the car slowed down in the heart of the city's main business district. The buildings here were huge, made of shining glass and steel. He pulled up to a massive, towering skyscraper. It was easily one of the tallest and most beautiful buildings on the street.

A valet rushed over to open my door. I stepped out, looking up at the giant glass tower. The sun reflected off it, making it shine brightly. "Come," Alessandro said, placing a gentle hand on my lower back to guide me.

We walked through the large glass doors into a busy, modern lobby. People in neat suits were walking fast, carrying briefcases and talking on phones. We walked straight to a private elevator in the back.

Alessandro swiped a black keycard, and the doors opened. He pressed the button for the top floor. My stomach did a nervous flip as the elevator went up. "Mr. Bianchi, seriously, what are we doing here?"

"You said you were worried about Marco asking questions," he replied simply.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and my breath caught in my throat.

We stepped out into a stunning, massive office floor. The walls were made of glass, giving a perfect view of the entire city below. The floors were shiny marble. Modern desks and computers filled the open space. People were walking around, typing, answering phones, and holding files. It was a real, busy, working office.

But what made my heart stop was the giant silver sign on the main wall behind the reception desk.

MARINO VINTNERS AND TECH

I stared at it. My mouth fell open. "What is this?" I whispered.

The receptionist, a young woman with a bright smile, stood up. "Good morning, Mr. Bianchi. Good morning, Ms. Marino."

Ms. Marino. She called me Ms. Marino.

Alessandro nodded to her and gently pushed me forward. "Let's go to your office."

I couldn't feel my legs. I walked down the hallway, looking into glass meeting rooms where people were giving presentations. He led me to the very end of the hall, to two huge doors. He pushed them open.

It was the most beautiful corner office I had ever seen. A massive dark wood desk sat in the center. Bookshelves lined the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city. On the desk, there was a little silver nameplate.

Viviana Marino. CEO.

I walked over to the desk and touched the wood. Alessandro walked around and placed a thick, heavy file on top of the desk. "Open it," he said.

My hands were shaking as I flipped the folder open. Inside were legal documents, bank statements, and property deeds. "This isn't a fake front," Alessandro explained softly. "Over the last few months, I bought a highly successful vineyard in the south. I also bought a rising tech firm that specializes in artificial intelligence. I merged them, the staff you see outside are real experts. The money in these accounts is real. And it is all legally registered under the name Viviana Marino."

I looked up at him, my eyes wide. "You bought all of this? For me?"

"I promised you a new life," he said. "If Marco looks into you, he will find a real empire. He will see a powerful woman with millions in assets. There is no trick for him to find. You are the CEO."

I looked down at the papers again, and then back out at the beautiful city view. The weight of what he had done crashed over me.

For two years, I felt like a ghost. I was a burn victim, a woman who lost her baby, a wife who was thrown away like trash. Even when I got my new face, I still felt empty inside. But standing here, in this powerful room, with my new name on the door... I finally felt alive. I felt strong.

Tears of pure joy swelled in my eyes. They spilled over my eyelashes and rolled down my cheeks. I didn't try to stop them.

I turned to look at Alessandro. He was watching me with a soft, careful expression. "I don't understand," I cried softly, my voice breaking. "I don't know what I did to deserve all of this. This is too much. Why are you doing this for me? Why are you so good to me?"

He stepped closer. He was so tall, his presence so warm and safe. He reached out and gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "You deserve this, and so much more," he said, his voice dropping low, full of raw honesty. "You survived the worst kind of evil. You fought your way back from the dark. You are strong, brave, and brilliant. Don't ever question if you deserve this. You earned it."

I looked up into his deep, dark eyes. For a moment, the whole world stopped. I wanted to hug him, wanted to thank him a million times. "Thank you," I whispered. "I won't let you down."

He smiled, taking a step back. "I know you won't. Now, dry your tears. We have work to do."

The next few days were a blur of hard work. I basically lived in that corner office. Alessandro was there with me every single step of the way.

He brought in the head of the wine department, and I spent hours tasting, learning the names of grapes, understanding export laws, and reading profit margins. Then, he brought in the lead tech engineer.

I studied files on artificial intelligence, learning the basic terms, the future goals of the company, and how to sound like a genius in a board meeting. Alessandro was a strict but patient teacher. He taught me how to read balance sheets quickly, and he showed me how to sit in a chair to show dominance. He made me practice my tone of voice.

Day by day, the fear completely faded. By the end of the week, I could answer any question about my company without looking at the files. I knew the numbers, I knew my worth.

It was exactly seven days after the gala.

The sun was setting outside my office window, and I was sitting behind my desk, I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out the small, black business card.

Marco Mancini.

I stared at the name, I picked up my office phone and dialed the numbers on the card.

"Marco Mancini speaking," his voice came through.

I leaned back in my leather chair, a slow, dark smirk spreading across my face. "Marco," I said, my voice low, slow, and dripping with confidence. "It is Viviana Marino. Are you ready for that business dinner?"