CHAPTER TWENTY

Natalie’s sleek black car rolled into the parking space with effortless grace. The engine purred to a stop, and the tinted door swung open. Emma was already stepping out of the building, her heels clicking briskly on the concrete.

“Morning, miss De Luca." she greeted, pulling Natalie's structured leather bag from the passenger seat.

Natalie was aware that she came a little late to the office, of course, she needed to attend to something important first.

 “Mr Romano dropped by earlier. Said he just wanted to check in on you.” Emma told her as they both walked side by side into the building, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

Natalie barely glanced at her. “Schedule another meeting with him for next week,” she said coolly, already striding toward the entrance.

Emma hurried to keep up, clutching a slim folder. “There are a few files that need your signature. I left them on your desk.” She added.

Natalie nodded without breaking stride. “Thanks.”

As they entered the office, Emma handed over the documents with a practiced smile.

"Is there anything you would want me to do for you?" She asked.

"A cup of coffee, please." Natalie requested.

"I will be right back with your coffee, ma'am."

The door shut behind her with a soft click, leaving Natalie alone in the quiet luxury of her office.

She placed the folder on her desk but didn’t open it immediately. Instead, she reached for her phone, the corners of her mouth curving into a slow, satisfied smile. 

What she wanted to see was staring right back at her as she opened the internet.

A series of photos and short clips lit up her screen—Isabella, flushed and disoriented, stumbling through the party, her designer heels in her hands and makeup smudged from laughter or tears—it didn’t matter.

The internet had already decided it was a scandal.

Natalie scrolled through the comments, each one sharper than the last.

“Is that the mafia princess or a washed-up reality star?”

“Someone had a little too much ‘rich girl fun’ last night.”

“She’s a train wreck—and I love it.”

Natalie’s eyes glittered with amusement as she tapped to replay one particularly humiliating clip. The laugh that escaped her was quiet but sharp.

This was just the beginning, one out of the tons of things she has planned out for Rafael and his mistress.

They killed her, but here, she was not just going to kill them, she was going to humiliate them first before she finally brings them to their knees. She fingered the tattoo in her wrist—the symbol of her survival, her survival to a second chance. A second chance that she must not take lightly, that she must take to exert her revenge, they would feel every single pain they caused her.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open again, interrupting her thoughts.

Emma stepped in, slightly breathless, a steaming cup in hand.

“Sorry for the delay. They had to brew a fresh batch,” she explained quickly, setting the porcelain cup on a coaster in front of Natalie.

Natalie didn’t respond immediately. She picked up the cup, inhaled the rich aroma, and took a slow sip. Perfect—just the way she liked it.

"Thank you." She said finally.

Emma lingered for a second too long before taking the cue and slipping back out.

The silence returned, wrapping around Natalie like an old friend. She leaned back into her chair, the leather groaning softly beneath her.

It was time she moved to the next phase of her plans. Natalie thought as she slipped from her coffee.

Just like a dish she hoped to meticulously prepare and serve to her enemies, she should enrich if with flavours. She let out a soft cackle.

Setting the cup down, she reached for her phone again. Her fingers danced over the screen, typing out a brief message to a private number—no name, no signature. Just a single sentence that would set things in motion.

She hit send, then leaned back once more, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll be expecting your call soon, Rafael,” she murmured to herself, eyes glinting with anticipation.

He would come to her. Always. He would always be the one to reach out. She would create problems in his life only her could solve, and he would reach out to her.

With the taste of victory still lingering in her smile, Natalie pulled the folder Emma had left and began flipping through the documents. Her pen moved swiftly across the pages, her signature a flawless flourish of ink—efficient, elegant, detached.

The mundane rhythm was only broken by the soft buzz of her phone. The same sound she had gotten so used to.

Her eyes flicked to the screen.

Rafael.

Her smile deepened, but she let it ring out—once. Twice. She knew he was going to call again. She was important to him, after all, she could keep him waiting as long as she could and he would always wait.

Only when it buzzed again did she finally pick up, her voice smooth and casual. “Rafael.”

“You’ve seen the latest?” he asked, tension threading through his voice.

“No,” she replied, dragging out the word with deliberate indifference. “Should I?”

“Check the news." 

He hung up before she could ask more.

Brows raised in mild amusement, Natalie swiped over to her messages. A new alert popped up—news breaking across private circles. Her gaze sharpened as she scrolled through it: photos, information leaks, rumors. The kind that could shift power balances overnight.

She paused, absorbing it fully, then calmly tapped to call Rafael back.

“That is a lot," she said as soon as he picked up. Her voice was low. 

"I know, Natalie, and I hate that I have to laden you with my problems all the time, but is this fixable?"

Natalie gulped down hard.

"I... I know a couple of people I could talk to." She said.

She heard a low sigh from Rafael's end. She drew satisfaction from knowing that she could make him suffer as much as he was doing at the moment.

 “Let’s meet tonight after work. We’ll talk details then.”

Without waiting for confirmation, she ended the call.

The calm in her voice didn’t betray the storm already forming in her mind. But she was ready for it.

She always was.

In the meeting, she was going to make another demand. Out of desperation to save his empire, he would agree. Yet another big leap in infiltrating his space.