LOGIN~LUCAS~Fiorella is trapped, and pinned to the wall, but her eyes don’t leave mine, not even for a second.And that…more than anything else…pushes something volatile deeper under my skin.Because she’s not flinching….not anymore.That brief flicker of surprise, of fear… it’s gone now, and completely wiped clean like it never existed. In its place is that same composure she always wears. That same maddening control.Like I didn’t just corner her. Like she didn’t just tear me apart in front of a room full of people.My jaw tightens.“Do you have any idea,” I start, my voice low but shaking at the edges despite my effort to keep it steady, “how humiliating that was?”She blinks once, and then her brows draw together just slightly, her lips parting like she’s genuinely confused.“Humiliating?” she repeats softly, and then tilts her head just a fraction. “Did I do something to upset you?”For a second, I just stare at her.Because there’s no way. There’s no actual
~LUCAS~No!!!No, that didn’t just happen.For a second, I’m convinced I misheard her.“I won’t be needing the projector.”My brain rejects it immediately. Flat-out refuses to process it. Because that would mean…That would mean Fiorella just stood in front of an entire room full of students and dismissed the presentation we worked on…. together.“No,” I mutter under my breath, barely audible, my gaze locked on her back. “That’s… no. That’s not possible.”It has to be some kind of mistake. It has to be some kind of setup. Or it has to be a joke.Yeah. That’s what it is. A joke.Except then she keeps talking.“I didn’t prepare any slides. That’s more for… nerdy people. Or people who like to do too much.”And the room laughs.The room actually laughs.My fingers curl slowly against the edge of the desk beside me as the words settle in. As they sink in deep enough to burn.She didn’t just ignore the slides. She mocked them, and mocked me.My jaw tightens so hard it
~FIORELLA~I hate that I’m impressed.I hate it more than anything else I’m feeling right now.Because Lucas doesn’t just present….he commands.I stand there, arms folded loosely, chin slightly lifted, watching him move through the room like he owns it. Like the space bends to him. Like every word he says is something these students didn’t know they needed… until now.And the worst part?They’re eating it up. Every single one of them.I watch the shift happen in real time….the distracted ones sitting up straighter, the bored ones suddenly interested, the ones who came here just to pass time now scribbling like their lives depend on it.He’s good.No….He’s very good.My jaw tightens just a fraction because he went first.Because now I have to follow that.Because if I don’t outdo him, even slightly, even subtly… then what?They’ll compare.Of course they will. And I don’t lose comparisons.Not here. Not ever.My gaze sharpens on him as he continues speaking, paci
~LUCAS~“Good morning, once again,” I begin, my voice steady but less rigid now. “If you are here, it means you chose law. Or perhaps… law chose you.”“But what is law, really? Is it rules? Statutes? Courtrooms?”“Or is it something else entirely?” I add. “Because the truth is….law is not just what is written. It’s how it is used.”“Before we proceed,” I say, my voice steady, measured, “I want to ask you something.”The room is quiet, waiting, and attentive.I let my gaze sweep across the students, slower this time. Not scanning like before. Not analyzing exits or corners.I'm actually looking at them now.“How many of you chose law because you were told it’s a powerful career?”A few hands go up, hesitant and uncertain. And I nod slightly.“And how many of you chose it because you believe you can make a difference?”More hands this time. Some go up faster. Some are higher.There’s a shift in the room. It's small, but noticeable.I take a step away from the de
~LUCAS~Zurich feels… quieter than I expected.There's movement, cars, people, the distant hum of a city that knows exactly what it’s doing—but compared to Paris, compared to the constant sharp edge of competition back at the firm, this place breathes differently.It's calmer, and almost deceptive.I step out of the car first, my shoes hitting the pavement with a dull, controlled sound as my eyes lift to the building in front of us.The law school.It’s… smaller. Not unimpressive, but not grand either. No towering glass walls. No intimidating architecture screaming prestige. Just a clean, structured building with wide windows and a quiet confidence about it.“Expected something bigger?” Fiorella’s voice cuts in from behind me.I don’t turn immediately. My eyes are still scanning the building, taking in the details….the modest signage, the students walking in pairs, the lack of overwhelming security or ceremony.“Maybe,” I admit finally, glancing over my shoul
~FIORELLA~Lucas steps into my room again, and just like that, the space between us disappears.Though it's not physically, but something about having him in the room again makes everything feel… smaller, closer, and more intense.I walk toward the bed, picking up my tablet.“Show me.”He moves beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat from his arm.His arm is not touching me, but it's too close.I keep my eyes on the screen. He leans slightly, pointing at a section.“This part,” he says. “We’re both explaining the same concept differently.”I glance at it, and I see that he's right Of course he is.“We merge it,” I say, and he nods in agreement.“Exactly. We should.”We fall into a rhythm after that…. talking, adjusting, refining.There's no tension or arguments this time, just work.And somehow, that feels even more dangerous.Because this ease is not supposed to exist between us. Not after everything. Not after that night.Not after the way we look at
~ELENA~“My daughter belongs to all of them,” I announce.Laughter breaks out—low, cruel, disbelieving.“Daughters?” one of them repeats. “You expect us to believe three men fathered three identical children?”“Yes,” I reply boldly.Outrage erupts.“That’s perversion!”“Th
~ELENA~I know something is wrong the moment they come back into my room after taking Fiorella and Marcella to the nursery.Not because they say anything.But because the house feels… heavier.Vincenzo closes the door behind them carefully, like the walls might be listening
~ELENA~That night, when the house finally grows quiet, reality settles in.Not the fear kind, but the good kind.The kind that hums softly in your chest and tells you this….this moment….is real.The nursery light glows faintly down the hall.I sit in bed, pillows stacked behi
~ELENA~The hospital room smells like antiseptic when I wake again.For a terrifying second, my arms feel empty. Then I hear it.Three tiny breaths. Soft. Uneven. Alive.I turn my head slowly and see them….three bassinets lined up beside my bed, each holding a piece of my hear







