LOGINChapter 56
Seraphina's POV
Who is she to you?
My fingers curled into my palms. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. In my burning cheek. In every nerve ending that seemed to be waiting for Lorenzo's answer.
What will he say?
He didn't even hesitate.
"Her company has a new partnership with mine." Lorenzo's voice was flat. Businesslike. "Her supervisor assigned her to lead this project. If something happens to her, who's going to cover my losses?" He tilted his head slightly. "You? Or perhaps Madison?"
I blinked.
"If it's Madison who has to answer for it," Lorenzo continued, his tone dropping to something almost pleasant, "I really can't predict what the consequences of tampering with company data will do to her career. Can you?"
My breath caught.
The data tampering. How does he know about that?
Madison's face went white. Then red. Then white again.
"No!" She stepped forward, her voice shrill. "Mr.
Seraphina's POVHe stood before me, a shadow cast in expensive wool and cold intent, waiting for an answer I was almost too terrified to give."Tell me, Seraphina," he repeated, "Who touched you?"I looked past him. The men from the study—the Anderson analyst and the local thuggish associates—had been brought into the hallway by Lorenzo’s guards. They weren't the wolves they had been ten minutes ago. Now, they were cowering sheep. The lead analyst was shaking so violently his teeth were literally chattering, and the younger man who had pinned me against the desk—the one whose head was still bleeding from where I’d struck him—looked like he wanted to vomit."It was... it was him," I whispered, my voice cracking as I pointed a trembling finger at the younger associate. "He pinned me. He... he tried to..."I couldn't finish the sentence. The memory of his hands on my inner thigh, the foul smell of his breath, and the sheer helplessness of the moment flooded back, making my stomach churn.
Lorenzo’s POVThe air in the Castello’s gallery was thick with the scent of sea salt and old stone, but as I rounded the corner, it was drowned out by the cloying, familiar perfume of Vivienne.I stopped.A Vitale’s order is not a suggestion. I had told Vivienne—clearly, lethally—to stay in New York. To remain at the estate. To stay out of my sight until I decided what to do with her increasingly erratic behavior. Yet here she was.And at her feet, huddled against the wall like a discarded doll, was Seraphina.Sera was a mess. Her hair, which usually fell in soft, controlled waves, was a tangled bird's nest. A bruise was already darkening her cheekbone, and the strap of her silk dress was jaggedly torn, exposing the pale, trembling curve of her shoulder. She looked haunted. She looked hunted."Daddy!" Vivienne shrieked.Before I could say a word, she threw herself at me. She didn't just w
Seraphina's POV"Watch where you’re going, you clumsy—"The voice cut off, replaced by a sharp, inhaled breath. I looked up, pushing my tangled hair out of my eyes, and found myself staring at the hem of a gown that probably cost more than my adoptive parents’ car.Vivienne.She stood there, silhouetted against the glow of a massive crystal chandelier, looking every bit the mafia princess she had spent twelve years pretending to be.She looked down at me, and for a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, a slow, cruel smile spread across her lips—the kind of smile a predator wears when it finally corners a wounded rabbit."My, my, Seraphina," she purred, her voice a low, melodic poison. "You look like you’ve had a very... eventfulevening. What happened? Did the help mistake you for the trash and try to take you out?"I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking so hard I had to press them a
Seraphina's POVI stood in the center of my hotel room, the late afternoon sun casting long, orange bars across the floor that looked like the teeth of a cage. My hands were trembling as I tore apart the bedding for the third time. I checked under the mahogany desk, behind the velvet curtains, and even inside the marble-tiled mini-bar.It was gone.The leather-bound project folio—the one Lorenzo had entrusted to me, the one containing the corrected logistics and the heartbeat of the Mediterranean expansion—was nowhere to be found.My breath came in shallow, jagged hitches. Lorenzo’s voice echoed in my mind, a low, gravelly warning from the night before: “It’s the most valuable thing in this room, besides you.”"Think, Sera. Think," I whispered, clutching my head.I had brought it back to the room after the meeting. I remembered setting it on the nightstand before I went to find water. Had
Vivienne’s POVI paced the length of my bedroom, the soles of my silk slippers muffled by the thick Persian rugs. Every time my phone remained dark, my chest tightened. Lorenzo’s voice from the night before—that arctic, lethal tone he had used to tell me to stay home—was still echoing in my ears. He had never spoken to me like that. Not once."He’s just stressed," I whispered to my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling vanity. I smoothed my hair, though not a strand was out of place.But I didn't believe it. Not for a second.Because Seraphina was with him. That mouse, that boring, plain little charity case I had successfully kept in the shadows for years, was currently breathing the same air as myfather.Lorenzo had grounded me like a child, but he forgot one thing: he had spent a decade teaching me how to get exactly what I wanted. He had taught me that everyone has a price, and loyalty is often j
Seraphina's POVThe meeting that evening went smoothly. When I woke up the next morning, my thigh was still aching slightly.I carefully dressed in a tailored charcoal blazer and trousers, ensuring the fabric was loose enough not to irritate the bandage.By 9:00 AM, I was seated in a glass-walled conference room overlooking the Mediterranean. Across from us sat the Anderson representatives—hard-faced men in expensive suits who clearly didn't expect a "guest" of Lorenzo Vitale to be anything more than arm candy."The logistics for the Mediterranean expansion are solid," one of the lead analysts said, sliding a tablet across the table. "We’ve factored in the port fees and the transit risks. The margins are tight, but the volume will compensate."Lorenzo sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. He hadn't said a word to me since we left the hotel, but I could feel his gaze on me every time I leaned forward t







