CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ARCHITECT OF CHAOS

I understand the delicate art of becoming indispensable. Like a slow-acting poison that feels like medicine at first, I need to integrate myself so deeply into Rafael's organization that removing me would cause more damage than keeping me. Each calculated step brings me closer to the vengeance I've waited for since the day I opened my eyes in this new body, with memories of drowning still fresh in my mind.

The morning sun filters through the blinds of my Milan apartment as I review my notes from yesterday's meeting. Rafael had been impressed by my knowledge of Barcelona's real estate market—knowledge I'd cultivated in my previous life as Alina, when I'd dreamed of building a future there with him. Before he and Isabella decided I was a liability that needed to be eliminated.

My fingers trace the tattoo on my wrist—a reminder that Natalia De Luca had her own demons before I inhabited her body, before this strange rebirth gave me a second chance. It's a nice companion to my angry thoughts.

Now I use her face, her credentials, her life, all while carrying Alina's memories and rage. 

My phone buzzes with a message from Rafael's personal number confirming our meeting this afternoon. I smile to myself as I send a quick acknowledgment. Three meetings in two days—Isabella must be seething. Good. Her jealousy makes her predictable, and predictable opponents make mistakes.

I shower and dress with deliberate care, selecting a silk blouse the color of blood beneath a tailored blazer. Rafael always liked me in red, though he doesn't know it's me he's admiring. At thirty-two, he's still as handsome as when I loved him five years ago—before I learned what kind of monster lurked beneath that perfect exterior.

"A second chance," I whisper to my reflection, seeing Natalia's olive skin and dark eyes where once there was Alina's fair complexion. "Not for reconciliation. For retribution."

---

Walking into Rafael's headquarters feels like stepping into a recurring nightmare. I know every inch of this building, and could navigate it blindfolded. I designed parts of it myself when I worked as his architectural consultant—before I became his fiancée, before I became his victim.

The receptionist directs me to the familiar executive elevator. As the doors close, I steel myself against the flood of memories. Rafael's laugh as he showed me the plans for this tower. The pride in his voice when he spoke of building something lasting. The lies he whispered against my skin at night while plotting my demise with Isabella.

The elevator opens directly into the executive suite where Matteo waits, his presence as imposing as ever. I know everything about Matteo Venucci—his loyalty to Rafael, his ruthless efficiency, his preference for clean kills over messy ones. Whether he helped plan my murder is something I've never been able to confirm, but his hands are far from clean and his loyalty to Rafael is second to none.

"Ms. De Luca," he greets me with professional courtesy. "Rafael is finishing a call. He'll see you shortly."

I smile, enjoying the irony that neither of them recognizes me. "Thank you, Matteo. Don't worry—I know my way around."

A flicker of suspicion crosses his face at my familiar use of his name and implied knowledge of the office layout. Good. Let him wonder. Let small seeds of doubt begin to sprout.

"Have we met before Barcelona?" he asks carefully.

"Perhaps in another life," I say with an enigmatic smile. "The business world is surprisingly small, isn't it?"

Before he can respond, Rafael's office door opens. He emerges, confident and commanding in a perfectly tailored suit. At thirty-two, Rafael Moretti possesses all the magnetic presence that helped build his empire despite his youth—calculated charm, strategic brilliance, and a face that masks its cruelty behind beauty.

Ignoring the pang I feel in my heart, I force a polite smile on my face.

"Natalia," he says, his voice warming slightly. The same voice that once promised me forever. "Come in."

I move past him into the familiar office, taking in the space that hasn't changed much in two years. The same floor-to-ceiling windows offer that panoramic view of Milan. The same desk where he once bent me over and whispered he would love me until he died while his hands and mouth traced all over my skin.

Lies, all of it. Every single second of it.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," I say, taking a seat across from his desk.

"Nothing that can't wait." He studies me with those penetrating dark eyes that once made me feel cherished. Now I recognize the calculation behind them. "You've made quite an impression on my team."

"I believe in demonstrating value rather than simply promising it," I reply, opening my portfolio. "Speaking of which, I'm afraid I have some concerning news about the Barcelona property on Passeig de Gràcia."

Rafael leans forward, instantly alert. "What kind of news?"

"My sources inform me that the city planning commission is reviewing a proposal that would significantly impact the development potential." I hand him a document I've prepared—or rather, orchestrated through carefully placed bribes and old contacts. "Heritage protection measures that would restrict any structural modifications to the building's façade and certain interior elements."

His jaw tightens as he reviews the document. This property is central to his expansion plans, and any restrictions would slash its value. I know this because I helped him draft the original expansion strategy years ago, before he decided I knew too much.

"When did this happen?" he demands, reaching for his phone. "I should call—"

"Traditional channels won't help," I interrupt smoothly. "The proposal was submitted quietly. City officials sometimes do this when powerful interests are involved."

What I don't say is that I'm the one who suggested this approach to the commission chairman, appealing to his genuine concern for historical preservation while offering a substantial donation to his favorite charity.

"Can it be stopped?" Rafael asks, getting straight to the point.

I allow a small smile. "With the right approach, yes. The commission chairman, Antonio Mendez, is passionate about urban renewal. I've taken the liberty of drafting an alternative development plan that addresses their concerns while preserving our interests."

I slide another document across the desk—a beautifully rendered proposal that I know will appeal to Rafael's aesthetic sense. It's good work, thorough and thoughtful. The fact that implementing it will create three new regulatory hurdles that only I can navigate is my little secret.

Rafael studies the proposal, his expression shifting from concern to intrigue. "This is impressive, Natalia. But why go to such trouble before we've even engaged your services officially?"

"Consider it an investment in our potential partnership," I reply, leaning forward slightly. "I believe in this project. And I believe in your vision, Rafael."

His name feels like poison on my tongue, but I maintain my serene expression. Five years ago, I would have done anything for this man. Now, I'll do anything to destroy him—methodically, thoroughly, from the inside out.

"You continue to surprise me, Ms. De Luca," he says, his eyes lingering on mine a moment too long. I recognize that look—interest, attraction, the beginning of a dangerous game he thinks he's controlling.

If only he knew who he was really playing with.

"Draw up a formal proposal for your services," he decides, closing the folder. "Include your f*e structure and timeline. I'll review it personally."

"Of course." I gather my documents, careful not to appear too eager. "I'll have it for you by tomorrow morning."

As I stand to leave, Rafael adds, "Isabella has expressed interest in meeting with you. Perhaps dinner sometime this week."

A test, clearly. Isabella Rossi is dangerous—far more dangerous than Rafael himself in many ways. She was the architect of my demise, whispering doubts in Rafael's ear, convincing him I couldn't be trusted. The thought of sitting across from her, breaking bread while she remains oblivious to who I really am, sends a thrill of dark anticipation through me.

"I'd be delighted," I say smoothly. "Her reputation in the industry is formidable."

"Indeed it is." Something like amusement flickers across his features. "I'll have her assistant contact yours."

As I turn to leave, he calls out once more. "Natalia?"

I pause at the door, looking back. "Yes?"

"The work you've done here—it's exceptional. Almost as if you understand exactly what I need before I know it myself."

For a moment, I allow Alina to surface in my eyes—the woman who loved him, who knew him better than anyone, who died because of it. "Perhaps I do."

The confusion that crosses his face is deeply satisfying. By the time he unravels that mystery, it will be too late.

In the elevator, I finally allow myself a real smile. Phase one is complete—I've positioned myself as valuable, knowledgeable, and slightly mysterious. Rafael is intrigued, Matteo is watchful, and Isabella is suspicious. Perfect.

I check my watch. In exactly three hours, the Barcelona city planning commission will publicly announce their heritage protection proposal. In six hours, Rafael will call me in a panic. And tomorrow, I'll begin the next phase of my plan—working directly alongside the man who drugged me and watched as Isabella held me underwater until the bubbles stopped.

They took everything from me in my first life—my father, my love, my future, my breath. In this second chance, this strange rebirth, I'll take everything from them. Not quickly, not cleanly, but piece by precious piece until there's nothing left but regret and ruin.

Death was too good for what they did to me. This slow destruction will be my masterpiece.