All Chapters of Mafia's Obsession: Hidden Flame : Chapter 41 - Chapter 46

Morning in Milan arrived like a careful intruder — slipping through the blinds in narrow shafts of pale gold, brushing across the dark oak floors of Adriano’s safe apartment without disturbing the silence. The air inside was still, untouched, holding onto the faint scent of last night’s rain.Beyond the reinforced windows, the city was waking up. A tram’s low rumble passed somewhere in the distance. Car horns flared and died away. Somewhere down on the street, the metallic clink of a shopkeeper rolling open his shutters carried faintly upward.Inside, the building was locked down as always — guards posted in the corridor outside, two more at the main entrance, cameras running in a continuous loop. This was Adriano’s stronghold in Milan, a place built for shadows and safety.From the bedroom, Siena stirred. Her eyes opened to the muted light pressing through the curtains, the sound of Lucia’s laughter filtering in from the next room — a soft, high melody, the kind only a child could ma

Night settled over the safe apartment like a heavy curtain, muting the city to a distant murmur. The lamps were turned low — one pool of amber on the sideboard, another a thin halo over the corner of the living room where Siena sat with her legs tucked under her, a blanket thrown across her knees as if warmth could argue with dread.The place was engineered for quiet. The HVAC hummed at a regulated whisper. In the corridor outside, guards rotated in soft-soled shoes that never quite made a sound. Somewhere below, the elevator locks cycled, checking and rechecking their own certainty. The windows, double-laminated and polarized, showed nothing of Milan except a suggestion of light, like the city had been reduced to a pulse.On the coffee table lay the black card with the golden serpent and, beside it, the photograph from the morning’s package. Siena had left them there deliberately, a boundary line in plain view. She refused to keep them out of sight. She also refused to touch them aga

They transferred Lucia upstairs when the sun was still a rumor at the edge of the city. The elevator doors opened onto a quieter floor, the kind built for waiting rather than crisis — low voices, long corridors, daylight that would arrive slowly and take the edge off metal and glass. Observation Room 7 was small, rectangular, and cleared of everything that could make a mother feel in the way. A narrow bed. A recliner that pretended to be comfortable. A monitor mounted high, its screen already alive with thin lines and numbers. A rolling pole with a saline bag hung but capped — ready if needed, unnecessary if luck held. Lucia lay on her back, blanket tucked under her arms, a tiny adhesive band across the crook of her elbow where the cannula sat like a promise not yet called in. The pulse-ox clip glowed red against her finger, a little jewel that pulsed with each artifact of the heart’s work. The blow-by nozzle had been removed; the mask coiled at the base of the pole like a snake out