LOGINThe tunnel became impossibly still after Lorenzo spoke.How old is he?The question itself was simple and almost harmless but Isabella felt it hit her harder than gunfire ever could.Lorenzo stood motionless beneath the dim tunnel light, his eyes fixed entirely on her now. He lowered the gun in his hand unconsciously…letting his focus narrow to one thing only.The child and his son, Matteo.The same boy he had carried through blood and chaos without hesitation began to look more like him with every passing second now that he allowed himself to truly see it.The child in Lorenzo’s arm moved, sleepily and frightened from exhaustion, his small fingers curling against Lorenzo’s shirt.m, that tiny movement nearly broke something inside Isabella and Lorenzo reacted protectively like it was the most natural thing to do.Ricci watched the scene in complete silence now, unusually restrained for the first time since his arrival, Even Moretti had stopped speaking while he let his sharp eyes stud
The tunnel changed the moment the men entered and the balance of power that had existed seconds earlier shifted beneath the weight of armed bodies, polished discipline, and the quiet confidence of men who clearly believed they were already in control of the outcome. The silver insignia across their black uniforms caught the dim light sharply as they spread through the entrance with professional organized precision. Lorenzo’s grip tightened around the gun in his hand automatically, his body unconsciously positioning itself protectively in front of Isabella and the children The older man who had spoken stepped fully into the tunnel now, calmly removing his dark gloves one finger at a time. He looked to be somewhere in his late fifties, still broad-shouldered despite his age and his dark hair cut close around a face marked by years of authority. And his eyes were strategically cold. The kind of eyes that evaluated people like assets before deciding whether they were worth preservin
Nobody in that tunnel misunderstood what the sentence truly meant, especially Marco. He's worked with men like Lorenzo De Luca well enough to know that they didn't explode when they were most dangerous. Instead, they became calm and methodical.And that kind of anger destroyed things painfully and completely and every single one of them standing there, knew it.The tunnel suddenly seemed colder than before, the dim amber light casting long shadows across Lorenzo’s face as he stepped away from Marco at last. His injured shoulder had begun bleeding heavily again beneath his nowdark shirt, the fabric soaked near his side now, but he either didn’t notice or no longer cared.At the moment, the betrayal in his world now had his attention, and that awareness began to change him in real time. Lorenzo lowered the gun slowly but did not holster it as his gaze moved between Ricci and Marco carefully now, his silence was no longer uncertain but analytical as though he were rearranging years of me
Nobody breathed after Lorenzo asked the question. Who ordered it? Just three words and that was all but Isabella felt the impact of them like a physical force because everything had changed. Just minutes ago, Lorenzo had been trying to survive an attack and now he was standing face-to-face with the possibility that the foundation of his entire life had been built on manipulation. And Marco… his most trusted ally stood at the center of it all. Now pinned against the cold stone wall with Lorenzo’s gun still pressed beneath his jaw, his breathing had slowed down despite the dangerous stillness surrounding them. The children’s frightened cries had softened into trembling silence now, broken only by the faint echoes of voices somewhere beyond the hidden passage. The world outside still existed and the men were still hunting them. But inside this tunnel, nothing of that sort mattered except the answer. Marco looked directly at Lorenzo. For the first time since Ricci’s appearance,
The calm inside Lorenzo shattered after Ricci’s words. Beneath his calm surface felt like glass breaking silently underwater. For one suspended moment, he simply stood there staring at Isabella, his mind refusing to process what had just been placed in front of him. She saw who killed your father. The sentence echoed through him again and again but every instinct inside him rejected it immediately. Not because it was impossible but because it explained too much. The fear in Isabella’s face. Marco’s tension. All the years of silence and the hesitation that arose every single time his father’s death had ever been mentioned, all of it suddenly began to feel connected which meant that this wasn’t merely another manipulation. This was real. His father. The man whose death had reshaped everything and whose blood had hardened Lorenzo into someone more colder and ruthless than he had once been. And now… now there was a witness, standing directly beside him. “What did you se
The tunnel had become now too tiny for the barrage of truth gathering inside it, nobody could move after Ricci’s final words. Not Lorenzo. Not Marco. Not even Isabella. The air felt strained and heavy with the weight of things that had been buried for too long beneath silence, loyalty, blood, and lies. The men's voices still echoed dangerously outside the wall but none of that felt urgent… not compared to this. Or compared to the envelope that was still resting calmly in Ricci’s hand. Lorenzo stared at it without blinking. This was five years later. A whole five years of believing that Isabella betrayed him. Five years that had sharpened his rage into certainty. Five years of carrying the memory of her disappearance like an open wound which he now disguised as hatred. And now… all of a sudden a total stranger stepped out of the dark and was dangling in their faces the possibility that everything he believed might have been manufactured from the beginning. The thought should







