LOGINAlessandroThe search for Elena went on. And with every passing day, I grew more frustrated.It was as though someone was working behind the scenes. Someone was hiding her. Someone was protecting her. Someone was making sure I never found her.My men came back with nothing. No leads. No clues. No sightings. It was like she had vanished from the face of the earth.I sat in my study, the bottle of whiskey empty, the cigar burned to ash. I stared at the wall and I felt the rage building inside me.I needed to do something. I needed to find her. I needed to bring her back.And for that, I needed help.But Malachai would not give me an audience just like that. The old snake would make me beg. He would make me crawl. He would make me pay for the destruction I had caused at his estate.No. If I was going to see Malachai, I needed to bring something. Something that would make him listen. Something that would make him take me seriously.I called my men together. "I need information," I said. "
ElenaI was angry.Mad at myself for falling in love with Lucas. Mad at my heart for betraying me when I had sworn to never trust anyone again. Mad at the way my chest ached every time I thought about him, about his green eyes, about his gentle smile, about the way he had held me like I was something precious.And mad at Lucas for leading me on.But was he even leading me on? The question haunted me. Or was I just too foolish, too desperate, too broken to have mistaken his kindness for love? He had never said he loved me. He had never promised me anything. He had just been kind. Kind and gentle and everything Alessandro was not.And I had fallen for it like a fool.I didn't leave my room. The guards brought food to my door. I ate in silence. I stared at the walls. I watched the sun rise and set through the window. I didn't speak to anyone.The days blurred together. One evening, the strange woman, Isabella, called a meeting. A maid came to my door with a message."Signora Bianchi requ
AlessandroWeeks had passed. Months. And still no sign of her.My men had searched every corner of Italy. They had turned over every stone. They had questioned everyone who might have seen anything. But nothing. She had vanished like smoke.My men advised me to give up. They came to me one by one, their faces tired and defeated, and they told me it was hopeless."Pakhan," one of them said, "we have searched everywhere. She is gone. We cannot find her.""Then search harder," I said."There is nowhere left to search.""Then find somewhere!"They left with their tails between their legs.Even Lucas advised me to give up. He came to my study, his face calm, his eyes steady. "Alessandro," he said, "you need to stop.""I need to find her.""She does not want to be found. She ran for a reason. Let her go."I slammed my fist on the desk. "I cannot let her go! She is my wife! She is my property! She is mine!""She was never yours, Alessandro. You bought her body, but you never had her heart. A
ElenaI did not respond. I wanted to, but I couldn't. The words were stuck in my throat, choked by the shock of her presence.The woman walked closer to me. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, each step deliberate and confident. She stopped in front of me, her sharp eyes scanning my face, my dress, my bare feet. I felt like I was being measured. Judged. Found wanting."Who are you?" she asked again. Her voice was cold and sharp, like a blade.I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.Who could have thought that a person's presence could make you stunned? I had faced Alessandro De Vercelli at his worst. I had stood in front of the Devil himself and survived. But this woman, this beautiful, elegant, terrifying woman, had rendered me speechless.The woman turned to the guards. They had been standing at attention, their heads bowed, their faces respectful."Who is she?" she demanded.The guard with the scarred face stepped forward. "She is Don Lucas's guest, Signora Bianchi."The woman's ey
AlessandroWith each passing day, my rage intensified. It was no longer about finding her. It was now about my ego and my name. The news was already spreading. People were already talking, mocking me, saying a maid had escaped from me and I couldn't find her. Saying I was incompetent. Saying I was no longer the Devil of Vercelli whom nothing escaped, not even an ant.The whispers followed me everywhere. At my casinos. At my meetings. At my own dinner table. My men looked at me with pity in their eyes. My enemies looked at me with glee. The Devil had fallen. The Devil had lost his touch.And I, I was no longer in a stable mental health. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think of anything except her. The ordinary slave who had gotten under my skin this much. The girl who had made me feel something I had never felt before. The wife who had run away from me.I swore if I found her, I would make her an example. I would lock her in a dungeon for the rest of her life. I would make
ElenaWeeks passed. I was being taken care of. I lacked nothing. The maids brought me food three times a day, delicious meals that I could never finish. The guards respected me, bowing their heads whenever I walked past. I had clothes and books and everything I could possibly need.But strangely, I didn't feel comfortable.I sat by the window every day, looking out at the endless lake, and I thought about Lucas. How did he have so much wealth? How did he own a villa like this, a palace that rivaled Alessandro's? And why had he reduced himself to being Alessandro's right hand man, taking orders and getting beaten, if he had all of this?I didn't think Lucas was up to something. He was too good to be into something shady. Maybe because of the oath, he was loyal to Alessandro. Maybe he was just biding his time. Maybe he had his reasons.I trusted him. I had to trust him. He was the only one who had ever shown me kindness. He was the only one who had ever treated me like a human being.I
AlessandroThe basement smelled like sweat and blood.I sat in the leather chair at the center of the room, a Cuban cigar burning between my fingers. The smoke curled toward the ceiling, twisting in the dim light. In the corner, a man hung from chains bolted into the concrete wall.His name was Fra
Elena "Argh!" I screamed as the bottle hit my head.Glass shattered against the wall behind me. Sharp pieces rained down on my shoulders. I pressed myself into the corner of the kitchen, my hands covering my face. But it was too late. The cut on my forehead was already bleeding. Warm blood trickle
ElenaThe east wing had four rooms and a window that looked out over the garden.I had memorised all of it by the end of day one.The bedroom was large and cold, with a bed so wide I could sleep diagonally and still not reach the other side. The bathroom had marble floors and hot water. The sitting
ElenaI pressed myself against the basement wall and held my breath.The voices upstairs were muffled, but I could hear enough. The man with the cold voice. My uncle begging. The gunshot that had made my ears ring.And then silence.I waited for more sounds. For footsteps. For another shot. For any







