Masuk"I know exactly what they want," Dante said, flexing his toes experimentally, watching them move for the first time in weeks with something close to wonder. "They want what I want. That makes them useful, regardless of who they really are underneath it.""And if the price turns out to be more than just Dimitri's death?" Luca pressed. "These people burn down entire research facilities and lose forty-seven people without blinking. That's not the kind of organization that stops asking for things once you owe them."Dante looked up at his second-in-command, at the genuine worry etched into his face."I've spent my entire life owing someone something," Dante said quietly. "My father. The families before us. The business itself. This isn't different, Luca. It's just a debt I actually want to pay."Luca didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue further either. He simply helped Dante back into the wheelchair, more careful than usual, as if some part of him already understood that the man he
POV: DANTEThe physician arrived at midnight, exactly as the voice on the phone had promised.Dante had told Luca to clear the household staff from the east wing for the evening, a precaution that felt excessive until he saw the man Luca escorted into his study. Tall, silver-haired, carrying a case that looked more like something out of a military field kit than a doctor's bag."Mr. Romano," the man said, his accent unplaceable, a mix of something Eastern European filtered through years elsewhere. "My name isn't important. Call me Doctor, if you need to call me anything at all.""That's not reassuring," Dante said."I'm not here to reassure you," the doctor replied, setting his case on the desk. "I'm here to fix your legs. Reassurance is Dr. Fabrizio's job. I understand he's already told you the honest, disappointing truth about your recovery timeline."Luca stood near the door, arms crossed, watching the exchange with open suspicion."How does this work?" Dante asked."The compound i
POV: CAMILLACamilla waited until morning.She'd learned long ago that Lorenzo's anger burned hottest at night and cooled by breakfast, that the man who raged in his study after midnight was rarely the same man who sat with his espresso at seven, already thinking about the day's business instead of the previous night's grievances.She found him exactly where she expected, at the small table on the east terrace, papers spread in front of him, untouched coffee going cold at his elbow."You didn't sleep," she said, settling into the chair across from him."I had calls to make," Lorenzo said, not looking up. "Antonio wanted an update on the situation. I told him things were being handled.""Were they?" Camilla asked carefully. "Handled?"Lorenzo finally looked up at her, his expression guarded in the way it always was when he suspected she was steering toward something."What do you want, Camilla?"She'd learned, over thirty years, exactly how to answer that question."I want to talk abou
Isabella stared at the photograph for a long moment before she spoke."He never looked at me the way you're describing," she said quietly. "Not once, not even at the beginning. I used to think it was because we were still getting to know each other. That it would come, eventually, the way you're saying it came for you and Papa. But it never did. He was always... somewhere else. Even when he was standing right next to me.""And then he called off the engagement," Camilla said."And then I watched him fall in love with someone else," Isabella said, her voice breaking. "Completely. Instantly. In a way that took him months with me and never actually arrived. I watched him look at her the way I used to imagine him looking at me in my fantasies. And it was like someone had taken everything I ever wanted and just... handed it to another woman."Camilla reached over and took her daughter's hand."That's when Dante found you," she said. It wasn't a question.Isabella nodded, tears sliding sile
The room went silent.Camilla's hand flew to her mouth."Isabella..." she started."That's why Dante," Isabella continued, unable to stop now that the truth was spilling out of her. "Because he was the only one who ever made me feel like I mattered to somebody, even if it was twisted, even if it started as something ugly. At least it was something. At least someone wanted me.""Enough!" Camilla's voice cracked through the room like a whip. "Enough, Isabella. Go to your room. Now."Isabella stood there for a moment, breathing hard, tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks.Lorenzo said nothing. He just stared at her with an expression she couldn't read, disgust, maybe, or something worse. Pity.She turned and fled the study, taking the stairs two at a time, her vision blurred with tears until she reached her old bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her.***Her room was exactly as she'd left it years ago. A shrine to the person she used to be before everything fell apart.Isabell
POV: ISABELLAThe estate looked exactly the same as she remembered.That was the strange part. Isabella had been taken, used as leverage, dragged through a war that wasn't hers, and the Russo estate still stood exactly as it always had, the same cream stucco walls, the same manicured hedges lining the driveway, the same fountain in the courtyard that hadn't worked properly since she was twelve.Her father's men escorted her through the front gates in silence. No one spoke to her during the drive from the airport. No one asked if she was okay.She wasn't.The car stopped in the circular drive, and Isabella sat there for a moment, staring at the front door, dreading what waited behind it more than she'd dreaded anything in the warehouse.One of the men opened her door. "Signorina Russo. Your mother is waiting."Isabella stepped out on legs that felt unsteady, though the physical danger had passed days ago. It was the estate itself that made her feel unsteady now. This place that should







