Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

*Vincenzo's POV*Family did not ask permission.Family informed.That was why Vincenzo Mercanti stood in the communications room with his jacket already on and his watch set to Moscow time. There was no tension in his posture, no uncertainty. Only timing.The secure line lit up as soon as he keyed the code.Nazyr Siankovski answered on the first ring.“You’re late,” Nazyr said calmly.“Only because I waited for confirmation,” Vincenzo replied. “The attack wasn’t yours.”Nazyr exhaled once, sharp and displeased. “It never is when cowards hide behind my name.”Vincenzo’s mouth curved slightly. “Viktor Orlov.”A pause.Then: “Dead,” Nazyr said. Not a promise. A schedule.“They crossed my borders,” Vincenzo continued. “Used Bianca Romano as leverage. Left messages meant to confuse Antonio.”“They failed,” Nazyr replied. “Antonio confuses himself well enough.”Silence followed - comfortable, familiar. Two men who had buried bodies together and raised children under the same shadow.“They a

*Bianca's POV*I felt it before anyone told me.The house didn’t change - not really. The guards stayed at their posts. The corridors remained quiet. The sea beyond the windows breathed in its steady rhythm. But something had shifted beneath it all, like the ground after a distant explosion.War had moved closer.I stood by the window in my room, arms wrapped around myself, watching the horizon darken into night. I didn’t know where Erico was. I only knew he’d left with that look in his eyes — the one that meant decisions had already been made and blood had already been priced.They hadn’t told me where.They hadn’t needed to.The door opened without a knock.I didn’t turn.I knew who it was the moment the air changed.Erico didn’t speak at first. He never did when he came back from violence. He carried it quietly, like a weight only he could feel. His presence filled the room - solid, grounding, terrifying in its certainty.“You should be asleep,” he said finally.“So should you,” I

*Bianca's POV*Vincenzo Mercanti did not summon people.He received them.There was a difference - subtle, but absolute - and I felt it in my bones as I stood outside his study with my spine straight and my hands steady at my sides. The guards didn’t look at me. They didn’t need to. I had been walking these halls long enough now to be known, measured, catalogued.Still not owned.Yet.Erico stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him through the sleeve of his jacket. He hadn’t touched me since he’d spoken the words - I marry you - and somehow that restraint carried more meaning than any claim.The door opened.“Come in,” Vincenzo said.No warmth.No warning.Just command.The study was dim, lit by the low morning sun cutting through heavy curtains. Vincenzo stood behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled, hands resting flat on the wood as if the room itself required anchoring.Violet sat near the window, elegant and composed, a teacup cradled in her hands. Her ey

*Bianca's POV*Erico didn't follow me immediately.He never chased.That was one of the reasons this mattered.I stood on the terrace overlooking the garden, the stone cold beneath my palms, the wind sharp enough to keep my yhoughts from unraveling completely. The horizon was pale with late afternoon light, everything muted and vast, like the world was holding its breath with me. When I heard his footsteps, I didn't turn."Vincenzo agreed." He said quietly."Yes, he did." I replied with a sigh."You didn't answer if you are one hundred percent sure about this.""No." I said looking at my hands.Silence stretched- not uncomfortable, but charged. The kind of quiet that existed only when both people were afraid of what words might unlock."I won't pressure you." He said."I know." And I really did. He was first the bodyguard that lied, but protected me. And now he was our enemy, but still he is protecting me. Nothing changed about him. Just his name. What does it matters if he was Ale

*Bianca's POV*I woke to quiet.Not the heavy, watchful silence of guarded halls or safe houses - but the ordinary kind. The kind that existed when no one was actively listening for footsteps or gunfire. For a moment, it disoriented me more than chaos ever had. Light spilled across the bedroom in pale gold, filtering through sheer curtains that moved gently with the sea breeze. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets cool when Erico had been. My frist instinct was alertness.My second... confusion. Then I heard it, The faint soud of movements downstairs. Not boots. Not radios. Not urgency.Clincking porcelain. I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around myself, listening harder.Cooking.The realization hit me with a strange softness.I dressed quietly and followed the sound, bare feet against the cool stone floors. The house felt different in daylight - less like a fortress, more like a place meant to be lived in. Sunlight touched the walls, warming the edges of shadows I hadn't