Paolo stood alone in his study, one hand gripping the edge of the mantelpiece above the cold fireplace. His other hand shook as he poured a glass of scotch, something he rarely did before noon.He didn’t drink. Not usually.But today wasn’t usual.He looked up at the painting above the fire, an old portrait of his family. Himself in youth, his late wife in pearls, and Luca at ten years old, stiff and serious, already taught how to pose like a Virelli.He remembered that boy. He remembered the pride, the stubbornness, the gleam of fight in his eyes even then.And he remembered holding him as a baby. Feeding him. Tucking him in at night.How had he become this?A man capable of orchestrating his own son’s abduction?The question hit like a blade in the gut.He hadn’t meant for it to go that far.He hadn’t wanted...“Mr. Virelli?” One of his senior aides cracked open the door, hesitant. “We have a problem.”Paolo turned slowly, his voice raw. “Unless it’s about Luca.. get out.”The aide
Last Updated : 2025-06-27
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