MasukAntonioni's POV
Nora
The gates slid open without ceremony.
No rush. No fear.
She walked in like someone who had already decided the worst thing that could happen had happened years ago.
Nora Ricco was smaller than I expected. Eighteen years or so. Not fragile, just contained. Dark hair pulled back. Plain clothes. No jewelry. No attempt to look important. That, more than anything, told me she was Lorenzo’s daughter.
Bukky shifted beside me. Diego’s hand hovered near his jacket.
“Easy,” I said quietly.
She stopped three steps away from us and then looked at me.
Not the way people usually did. Not calculating. Not afraid either. Assessing.
“So,” she said, her voice steady, “this is where monsters live.”
No greeting. No courtesy. Straight t
Antonioni's POV The television across the corridor never slept.Even when the lights dimmed and the cell block pretended to rest, the low hum of news anchors bled through the walls, concrete, distorted but relentless.I sat on the narrow bed, back against the wall, one arm resting loosely on my knee, eyes half-lidded as I listened.“…Antonioni D'Angélo,” the anchor said again, slowly, deliberately, like a verdict.My mouth curved...not quite a smile, not quite disdain.“They say,” another voice continued, “that beyond financial crimes, new allegations have surfaced. Sources claim he imprisoned a young woman he purchased with his money, kept her hidden, maltreated her—”I exhaled through my nose.Purchased. I almost laughed. If only they knew...The screen flickered, floating images looping endlessly…headlines stacked on headlines, speculation layered on fiction. Talking heads argued over my morality like it was a play. A panelist leaned forward, eyes sharp with self-righteousness.“
Annabelle’s POVThe sound of gunfire didn’t frighten me. At least not anymore.That was the first thing I noticed.It echoed loudly across the open field, sharp, controlled, consistent, and instead of flinching, something inside me aligned. Like a memory waking up. Like my body already knew what to do before my mind tried to interfere.I adjusted my standing again, grounding my feet, loosening my shoulders, correcting myself the way Bukky had taught me to, without panic, without apology. Slowly, Bukky walked around me in a circle, hands behind his back, watching not just my grip but my breathing, my posture, and my resolve.“Breathe first,” he said calmly. “The gun doesn’t move unless you tell it to.”I inhaled. Deep. Measured.I let the world narrow to the target, to the quiet space between my heartbeat and my intention, and then… I fired.It hit the targeted point.For a second, I just stood there, stunned by myself.Then Camille clapped loudly beside us, child-like joy spilling ou
Annabelle’s POVMalta stayed behind me like a held breath I could finally release.By the time the jet touched down and the Marina Park rose into view again, I realized how tightly I had been carrying myself. My shoulders loosened only when I saw the familiar gates, the clean sweep of the grounds, the lights warm and orderly against the coming dusk.Luca was dropped off at his abode in Istanbul, before we headed for Spain.We alighted.On getting inside the Dome, I was glad the home did not collapse while I was gone. That mattered more than I had expected.The house smelled the same when I stepped inside, polished wood, herbs from the kitchen, the faint trace of incense Mama Espe loved. Stability has a scent. I recognized it immediately.Mama Espe met me halfway down the hall, her head warmer worn neatly, h
Antonioni’s POVThe cell door closed with a sound that did not echo.That was what unsettled me.In Fort San Vittorio Detention Complex, echoes were constant…metal against metal, boots against concrete, the low hum of surveillance breathing through the walls. But this time, when they returned me from court, the sound ended. As though the world had decided I was not worth the reverberation.I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my wrists still warm from the cuffs, my shoulders carrying the weight of eyes that were no longer on me. Courtrooms were loud with judgment, even in silence. Cells were honest. They made no promises.I sat.And then, inevitably, I thought of her.Annabelle.Not as she had been led into the courtroom. Not as the composed woman who sat like a force of order in chaos. But as she had looked the last second, our eyes held steady, unafraid, and present.That look st
Annabelle’s POVI woke before the sun, the faint gray of dawn slipping through the half-opened room's windows. The room was quiet, almost reverent, the kind of silence that demanded attention. I rose quickly, pulling on a simple jacket and sneakers, my mind already racing through the tasks ahead.I slid through the Dome. Most workers were still sleeping. A handful of them were awake too.Before leaving, I needed to make sure the Dome would hold together in my absence. I moved from room to room, organizing, assigning tasks, and setting rules that would keep the house running smoothly. The maids had their instructions: meals, cleaning schedules, rounds in the garden. I double-checked the inventory, made notes for essential supplies, and ensured that everyone understood their responsibilities.Mama Espe received supervision duties. Her calm presence could manage both staff and residents. Mr. Martinez, overseeing the technical and security systems of the Dome, had a clear mandate: report
Antonioni’s POVThe courtroom's air conditioner was rather too cold, but not the kind of the sterile chill of Fort San Vittorio's detention cell. This one was the cold of inevitability.I didn’t expect her to be here for this first hearing. Not in this hall, not at the heart of this storm. But then I saw her. Annabelle. She was sitting near the front, calm but alert, her eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. Relief struck me like a pulse in my chest. She looked… whole. Her presence steadied me in ways no strategy, no lawyer, no dossier could. She was my heartbeat here, my tether to everything I was trying to protect.Bukky, Luca, Diego, Matteo, and Milo were all seated side-by-side, with her in the middle. Surrounded. Protected.My chest loosened just slightly, a warmth where cold should have reigned. Seeing her there, alive, unbroken, determined, made the weight of consequence feel… manageable.Petra Almassi sat across the room, her posture perfect, her gaze sharp, her lawye







