006

DON VINCENZO MARAZONA

“Be honest with us,” Mother said calmly while the doctor reviewed the medical file. “Is she an imbecile? Because surely a normal person cannot be this stupid.”

The doctor chuckled nervously.

“No, Madame Donna. She’s not mentally impaired. She’s simply severely malnourished and psychologically conditioned.”

Mother looked unimpressed.

“You think I cannot see that?” she scoffed. “The girl looks like a human corpse.”

I leaned silently against the wall while the doctor continued speaking about vitamins and stress disorders I frankly did not care about.

Mother waved one manicured hand dismissively.

“Cenzo, send her back. I refuse to have someone die dramatically inside my estate. Especially someone who already looks halfway buried.”

“Mother.”

“What?”

I looked toward the doctor.

“You,” I said flatly. “Put her on a strict diet.”

The doctor immediately nodded.

“Of course, Don Vincenzo.”

“Find out every allergy she has and inform the staff.”

“Yes, Don.”

Mother stared at me.

“You are keeping it?”

“It has a name.”

She looked disgusted.

“That hardly improves the situation.”

I ignored her completely and pushed open the bedroom door.

The parasite from the De Luca family sat curled nervously on the edge of the bed, biting her nails so intensely she nearly looked possessed.

The second she saw me, she practically jolted upright.

“U-uhm… hello, sir.”

I stared at her.

Then slowly looked toward the doctor.

Then back at her again.

Honestly?

At this point I genuinely could not tell whether Mother’s question had been unreasonable.

Because what the hell was wrong with this girl?

Who reacts to nearly dying from an allergic reaction by looking apologetic?

Her fingers twisted nervously together beneath my stare.

“Am… am I in trouble?”

Jesus Christ.

I rubbed once at my temple before looking toward the doctor.

“Is she allergic to anything else?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses and glanced down at the chart, but before he could answer, the girl spoke quietly from the bed.

“Uhm… shellfish. Peanuts sometimes. Strawberries make my throat itch a little and…” She hesitated. “Lavender soap too.”

I stared at her.

“How are you still alive?”

Her lips parted slightly.

“I… don’t know.”

Mother scoffed softly from behind me.

“Neither do I.”

I ignored her.

“Write all of it down,” I told the doctor coldly. “And inform the kitchen staff.”

“Yes, Don Vincenzo.”

I gave a short nod before looking back toward the girl—

Only to find her biting her nails again.

For fuck’s sake.

“Stop doing that.”

She blinked immediately.

“Huh?”

I pointed toward her hands.

“That.”

Her eyes dropped instantly.

“Oh.”

And somehow she still looked confused.

“The nail biting,” I clarified flatly.

“Oh…”

She quickly pulled her fingers away from her mouth.

For exactly three seconds.

Then her thumb drifted right back toward her teeth unconsciously.

I stared at her in disbelief.

“Do you always behave like this?”

Her eyes widened.

“L-like what?”

“Like a frightened stray waiting to be kicked.”

Silence.

The girl froze.

Mother watched with open amusement now.

Meanwhile Serafina looked like she genuinely did not know how to answer that question.

“I…” She swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“There you go again.”

Her breathing turned uneven instantly.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Try harder.”

She nodded quickly.

“O-okay.”

Another silence stretched through the room.

Then slowly—

her fingers started creeping back toward her mouth again.

I actually stared.

The doctor coughed awkwardly into his fist.

Mother looked seconds away from laughing.

I dragged one hand down my face aggressively.

“Incredible.”

Serafina jerked slightly.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing.”

Her lips snapped shut immediately.

At least that command registered.

For a moment the room fell quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows outside.

Then the girl spoke again in a voice barely above a whisper.

“I just… can’t really help it sometimes.”

Something about the way she said it irritated me less than it should have.

Not because it was endearing.

Absolutely not.

But because she sounded genuinely embarrassed by her own existence.

Which was strange.

Most people hid their flaws.

This girl looked like she expected punishment for having any at all.

Mother finally rose gracefully from her chair.

“Well,” she sighed. “This has been exhausting.”

She looked directly at Serafina.

“If you embarrass this family publicly again, I will personally send you back to the De Lucas in a coffin.”

The girl went white.

“I-I understand.”

Mother smiled pleasantly.

“Good.”

Then she left the room like she had not just threatened someone’s life before breakfast.

Silence followed immediately after.

The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll prepare the dietary schedule, Don Vincenzo.”

“Do that.”

The second he left, the room became quieter.

Just me.

And the girl.

Still sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed like she was afraid to move too suddenly.

I looked at her once more.

Then at the half-destroyed nails.

Then back at her pale anxious face.

“You look exhausted.”

Her eyes flicked upward nervously.

“I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

She immediately looked down again.

I stared at her for another second before speaking flatly.

“Get some sleep.”

Then I walked out before she could apologize again.

_ _ _

The moment I stepped into my office, Matteo was already waiting beside the desk with a tablet in one hand and blood on the cuff of his shirt.

That immediately irritated me.

Matteo noticed my expression and glanced down at himself briefly. “Not mine,” he said calmly.

“Then whose?”

“One of the guards from the southern convoy. They intercepted the official’s vehicle approximately twenty minutes ago near the coastal route.”

I removed my cufflinks slowly and placed them onto the desk. “Alive?”

“The official survived.” Matteo’s tone remained even. “Two guards didn’t.”

My expression did not change, though something cold settled deeper in my chest.

The coastal route had been changed last minute.

Only internal personnel had access to the updated movement schedule.

Meaning someone talked.

I leaned back slightly against the edge of the desk while Matteo continued.

“The attackers were professionals. One was captured alive initially, but he was shot before extraction could happen.”

Of course he was.

Dead men protected employers far better than loyal ones ever could.

“And the official?” I asked.

“Gunshot wound to the shoulder. He’s stable for now.”

I nodded once. “Double his security. Rotate the guards every four hours and keep outside personnel away from him until I approve otherwise.”

“Yes, Don.”

“And Matteo…”

“Yes?”

I looked at him directly. “Find out who leaked the route.”

A dangerous silence followed.

Not because the order surprised him.

Because we both understood what it meant.

There was a rat inside the organization.

And internal betrayal was one thing I never tolerated.

Matteo gave a short nod. “Understood.”

He left the office quietly while I moved around the desk and opened the stack of files waiting beside the lamp. Most were routine financial reports, shipment confirmations, and security updates from the ports, but one particular document immediately caught my attention.

Police authorization request.

I flipped it open lazily.

A photograph stared back at me.

Male. Late twenties. Wanted for large-scale cyber theft, financial manipulation, and digital laundering tied to multiple offshore accounts across Europe. According to the report, he had vanished three months ago after draining millions from several government-linked systems.

Interesting.

The police wanted authorization to move forward with armed retrieval operations inside territory technically under Marazona control.

Cowards.

Even law enforcement preferred asking permission before making noise in my cities.

I skimmed through the remaining pages before signing the approval document without much thought. If they caught him, useful. If they killed him, equally useful. Either way, it removed a problem from my territory.

After tossing the file aside, I loosened my tie slightly and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a brief moment while exhaustion pressed heavily behind my eyes.

The illness had become increasingly irritating lately.

Not frightening.

Not tragic.

Just inconvenient.

Everyone around me acted as though I was already halfway buried, and frankly I was growing tired of the atmosphere of premature mourning hanging around the estate.

A knock sounded against the office door.

I did not bother looking up. “What?”

A maid stepped inside nervously and lowered her gaze immediately. “Don Vincenzo, Madame Donna requested—”

“Later.”

The girl instantly stopped speaking.

Smart.

She bowed quickly and disappeared again.

I remained seated for another minute before finally pushing myself upright and leaving the office. 

As I walked toward the eastern wing, another thought surfaced suddenly.

The girl.

Christ.

I stopped near one of the maids arranging fresh flowers along the hallway wall. She nearly dropped the vase when she noticed me standing there.

“Don Vincenzo.”

I stared at her for a second, trying to remember the damn name.

Nothing came.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. “The new girl.”

The maid blinked once before understanding immediately. “Lady Serafina?”

“Yes.” The name sounded faintly familiar now. “Where is she staying?”

“In the guest villa, Don.”

I frowned instantly. “Why?”

The maid visibly stiffened beneath the question. “Madame Donna instructed—”

“I did not ask what Mother instructed.” My voice remained calm, which only made her look more terrified. “I asked why my wife is sleeping outside the main house like an unwanted visitor.”

The maid swallowed hard.

Honestly, the incompetence in this estate was becoming exhausting.

“Listen carefully,” I said flatly. “Within the next thirty minutes, she is assigned a room inside the main residence. I don’t care which room. I don’t care what needs to be moved. Handle it.”

“Yes, Don Vincenzo.”

“And inform the staff that if anyone treats her like temporary property again, I will assume they enjoy unemployment.”

“Yes, Don.”

“Good.”

I walked away before she could continue shaking in front of me.

By the time I reached my private quarters, the dull pressure behind my ribs had sharpened into something uglier. I removed my jacket carelessly, loosened the rest of my tie, and sat heavily at the edge of the bed while a violent wave of exhaustion rolled through me.

For several seconds, the room remained perfectly silent except for my breathing.

Then slowly, I lowered my head into one hand and closed my eyes.

Somewhere inside my organization, someone had decided to test me.

That was a mistake.