34. Dario
34
DARIO
T he moment I step inside the house, I know something is wrong.
It’s too quiet. Too empty. Normally, I’d hear Ginny somewhere in the distance—her soft humming as she helps Rosa in the kitchen, the mouth-watering aroma of something baking, her laughter as she plays with her dog…something—but today, there’s nothing. Just the eerie silence that claws at my chest.
The air feels colder, heavier, as if the house itself is bracing for something. I pause, listening, but the emptiness presses in on me from every direction. My heart picks up, thudding uneasily as I walk deeper inside. I can’t shake the feeling. It’s gnawing at me—like something is missing, something vital.
“Ginny?” My voice echoes through the house, but there’s no response.
The knot in my stomach tightens. The farther I go, the worse it gets, the silence deafening. Every step makes the dread build, my mind racing through every possible scenario. Where is she? Why is it so damned quiet?
I reach the kitchen, my eyes darting around. It’s spotless. No sign of her usual baking supplies strewn across the counters. No flour, no bowls, no Ginny. Panic flashes through me, a sharp, cold wave.
Something’s not right. Something’s terribly, terribly wrong.
I clutch the small box containing the Harry Winston bracelet tightly in my hand. The moment I saw it behind the glass display—the silver chain adorned with delicate charms, tiny stars, and crescent moons—I thought of her.
I can already picture her smile, that teasing glint in her eyes when I give it to her. She’ll probably laugh and call me cheesy, but I couldn’t care less. I’ve fallen too hard for her to worry about that now.
I head upstairs, shaking the feeling that something is wrong. She must be asleep. Ginny goes to bed early sometimes. My little sleepyhead.
But when I check her bedroom and then mine, she’s nowhere to be found. My sheets are slightly rumpled, showing that she was here. But it feels cold to the touch.
I drop my briefcase and step out into the corridor. Running a hand through my hair, I wonder if she’s somewhere in the house. As I rush down the stairs again, my eyes briefly glance out the window, taking in the night sky. She must be here. Ginny can’t be out at this time of the night.
“Boss...” Rosa’s voice breaks through the silence as she emerges from the back door. She looks almost hesitant, and her face is pale.
I frown, slipping the box into my pocket. “Where’s Ginny?”
Rosa’s expression tightens, and she avoids my eyes, a sure sign that something’s gone terribly wrong.
“I asked you a question, Rosa. You know I hate repeating myself.”
Her breath hitches. “I...I’m so sorry, sir, I?—”
“Rosa,” my voice hardens, my patience shredding. “Where is she?!”
“She left this morning. Alone. We thought she’d be back quickly, but...”
“She left alone?” I chuckle bitterly, and Rosa winces at my tone. I blow out a tense breath before asking. “But what?
Rosa’s lips tremble. “She...she didn’t say where she was going. I was in the kitchen when she said she needed some air, and before I could even get to the front door, she was...gone.” Her voice breaks, and guilt weighs heavy in her tear-filled eyes.
Gone. I feel the walls closing in, my throat constricting as panic slithers through my veins.
“Why didn’t she take Timoteo? Why the hell didn’t anyone stop her? Why didn’t anyone call me?” My voice rises, barely controlled, shaking with fear. My heart thuds erratically in my chest.
Rosa shakes her head, her hands wringing together. “I thought she’d be back soon... I didn’t know she’d be gone this long.”
I’m already pulling out my phone, dialing Ginny’s number, praying for her voice to answer—but all I get is the cold, automated tone telling me her phone is switched off.
“Fuck!” The curse explodes from my lips, echoing off the walls. I dial again. And again. But nothing.
My hands tremble as I frantically dial Lorenzo’s number next, my pulse thundering in my ears. The phone rings twice before cutting to voicemail.
“Damn it, Lorenzo, pick up!” I mutter under my breath, dialing again, but the same thing happens. The panic is relentless now, coiling tighter and tighter around my chest.
“Rosa,” I snap, my voice coming out harsher than intended, “when exactly did she leave?”
Rosa’s eyes well up with fresh tears as she answers, her voice barely a whisper, “Around eight this morning, sir. I thought she was just going for a walk... I didn’t think...” She trails off, visibly shaking now.
Eight. It’s been hours . Too many fucking hours. My blood roars in my ears, and fear sharpens its claws into my gut.
I pace the room, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios. “Has anyone seen her? At all?” I demand, the desperation creeping into my voice.
Rosa shakes her head. “No, Boss. I sent Angelo out to drive around the neighborhood to search for her, but...” A tear slips down her cheek, and her voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.”
“Get Timoteo. Now!” I shout, storming toward my home office, my fists clenching at my sides. “Find him. And check the garage. See if any of my cars are missing.”
Rosa, Timoteo, the security guards, and the gatekeepers are my only workers that live at the staff quarters behind the main house. The rest come and go. These ones are here because I used to believe that they were useful to have around. But now, I’m livid at their display of incompetence.
Every negligent person who was involved in this will be punished. The maids, Timoteo, Angelo and his fellow security guards, the gatekeepers...
But that’s not my main focus right now.
My fingers fly across my phone, dialing every contact I have in the police and underworld. My intel, my resources—all the people I’ve built relationships with over the years. It doesn’t matter if they owe me favors, if they’re old friends or enemies. Everyone is expendable if it means finding her.
“Conduct a search, now!” I bark into the phone. “I don’t care what it takes. Use the cameras, check the traffic feeds, shake down every street corner if you have to.”
With every call I make, the sinking feeling in my chest deepens, clawing at me. The silence on the other end, the hesitation, the same damned response every time.
No one has seen her. No one knows anything.
I can’t rely on these people, not now. Their promises are worthless. Mere fucking promises. Ginny could be in real danger, and I have nothing—nothing except my own gnawing fear. My stomach twists as the thought crosses my mind.
Kidnapped.
God, no.
My pulse races, the blood roaring in my ears as the possibility becomes real. Ginny, taken? In my city, under my watch? I let her leave alone, I let my guard down. If someone has her, they’re signing their own death warrant, but I can’t think about that right now.
Right now, I have to get her back.
I know this isn’t some random disappearance—this has someone’s fingerprints all over it. Someone is trying to get to me.
The hours tick by. Timoteo confirms that Ginny took one of the cars, but there’s been no trace of her or the car since she left. Rosa says she seemed upset and sick when she went out, but no one knows why.
I don’t sleep that night. I can barely even sit still.
I call Mr. Jenkins at the crack of dawn the next day, wondering if possibly Ginny tried to meet up with him. Maybe she’s looking to find a new building for her bakery. Maybe she’s tired of staying home all day.
He answers on the second ring, his voice groggy. “Mr. De Luca? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Have you seen Ginevra, my fiancée?” I snap immediately.
There’s a pause. I hear him scratch at something, maybe his beard, as he thinks. “Yeah, yeah, she came by yesterday. She looked upset.”
“Upset?” I echo, my heart hammering. It’s the same thing Rosa said. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she didn’t seem like herself. It looked like she was seconds away from crying, especially when I told her you’d bought the building in her name. I thought she was just emotional over the gesture. Then she just thanked me and left,” he narrates as my heart pounds even faster.
“Where did she go?”
“I...I don’t know. When she left, I went back to the backyard where I’d been fixing something. She looked like she was in a hurry, though. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
“Around what time was that?” I breathe.
“Around 8 or 9 a.m., maybe?”
“But there’s something else… well?—”
“Tell me!”
“She didn’t take the car she drove here. She left it in the parking lot. I thought it was intentional or something, but now I realize I should have done something. I’m so sorry, Mr. De Luca. If I had known…”
I curse under my breath and hang up. She was there, right there . And now she’s gone.
My phone rings and my breath hitches when I see Lorenzo’s name on the screen.
“I’ve been trying to reach Ginny since yesterday morning, but she’s not answering,” he rushes out the moment I answer the call. “Is she by any chance with you?”
“Ginny’s missing,” I say through gritted teeth.
I hear the sound of his breathing over the line as he stays silent for a few seconds.
“What do you mean by that?” he finally asks, his voice low.
Irritation zings through me. “What you fucking heard, Lorenzo! If you’d answered your call last night, maybe you’d know.”
“What do you mean she’s missing?” he chokes out again. “You promised me you would protect and take care of her!”
I grind my jaws painfully, my hands balling into fists.
“I traveled out of the state for a business trip. I just got back last night. My workers say she drove off in the morning but never came back,” I rush out, my breath coming in heavy pants. “I know you’re fucking pissed?—”
“Of course, I’m pissed.” He interrupts me with a loud voice.
“Well, this is not the time for that. We need to join forces together and find Ginny,” I say harshly. “You said her number rang when you called. What time was that?”
“In the morning, around 11 a.m. But when I called later in the evening, her phone was switched off.”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “If she was taken...” I choke, taking a deep breath. “If she’s been kidnapped, they probably switched her phone off or threw it away.”
“Or smashed it,” Lorenzo exhaled shakily before his voice hardens. “I’ll contact my tech guy to track it. There must be a way to find her.”
When the call ends, I resist the urge to fling my phone across the room. I can’t be here. I can’t be at home while she’s missing. Without bothering to shower, I head out of the house. Throughout the day, all my movements are fruitless. All the people I go to meet—private investigators, informants—all tell me the same thing. It’ll take a few days to find her.
By the second day, I’m unraveling. There’s no positive news. No new leads to where she might have gone and what exactly had happened to her. Dread twists in my stomach as I wonder if she willingly left me. If the idea of marrying me in about a week got too scary and too real for her.
Did she finally have enough of the life I’d dragged her into? The possibility claws at me, eating away at my sanity.
I call Lorenzo again, pacing the length of my office, where I’ve been staying all these hours.
“Dario, I’ve been looking everywhere,” he says the moment he picks up. “I’ve got my people on it.”
“Your people?” I snap. “She’s your sister, the only person she probably fully trusts. You’re trying to tell me you don’t know where she is?”
Lorenzo’s silence stretches across the line before he speaks, his tone clipped. “What are you insinuating, Dario?”
“Are you trying to screw me over, Lorenzo?” I say through gritted teeth. “Did you take her somewhere far away? After all, I’ve settled all your debt. You’ve gotten almost everything you wanted from me in the first place?—”
“You think this is some kind of sick game? You think I would risk my sister’s life, risk everything we’ve built just a week before your wedding?” Lorenzo asks, his voice hard and sharp as a knife.
I shake my head. I don’t believe him. I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Not with our history.
His scoff is bitter, piercing into my ear through the receiver. “If you think I’d take her just to mess with you, then you need to get your head out of your ass.”
His words slice through my anger, but it doesn’t calm me. Instead, it just stirs the frustration and confusion further. He sounds sincere, and I know Lorenzo would never put Ginny in harm’s way. But still, he could be lying. He could be playing me.
We both end the call without resolving anything.
The third day is a blur of desperation. I drive from place to place, meeting people I know can find anyone for the right price. But each dead end hits harder than the last.
By the time I return home, exhaustion weighs me down, but I can’t stop. I find myself staggering toward her bedroom. I push open the door, the scent of her lingering in the air. Strawberry. Vanilla. It feels like a punch to the gut. I stand in the doorway, staring at her things—her neatly folded clothes, her hairbrush on the vanity. It’s almost like she never left.
I walk over to her bed, the sheets still wrinkled from the last time she slept there. My hand brushes the fabric, and I feel something crack inside me.
I fall onto the bed, burying my face in her pillow and inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of her hair and body fills my lungs. I can’t hold out much longer. I haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. I feel like I’m drowning, the fear pulling me under. I squeeze my eyes shut, and finally, exhaustion wins.
I’m twelve again, trapped in that dark, damp room. The stench of sweat and blood chokes the air. I stand in the corner, two henchmen gripping my arms, pinning me against the cold stone wall. My heart races as I watch my father kneel on the ground, beaten and bloody. His face is barely recognizable, a grotesque canvas of bruises and despair.
“Where is it?” Antonio Bianchi demands on a low growl as he grips my father by the collar and shakes him violently.
“I don’t know,” my father whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that drips from his cracked lips. “I don’t have it.”
My heart clenches painfully at the sight. I place a hand over my chest and squeeze, struggling to breathe.
Isabella Bianchi stands in the opposite corner, her lips curling into a sneer. “Lies,” she spits. “If you didn’t take it, then your useless son did. He’s a thief. He took it.”
Then, a sob breaks out of her lips as she looks at me. “I knew you were trouble when you started hanging around my Enzo. I knew you were a bad influence,” she cries, clutching Lorenzo against her chest.
Lorenzo told me his father had a special watch that contained a chip linked to all his business dealings. The shady and legit ones. This was just the day before.
That’s what they’re talking about. It’s madly suspicious that it immediately went missing after he told me about it. But I don’t know where it is. I swear I didn’t steal it. I try to speak, but my voice sticks in my throat.
“You.” Antonio finally acknowledges my presence. His eyes are as sharp as knives as they bore into mine. “Where’s the watch, boy?”
I shake my head frantically, my body trembling with fear. “I don’t have it. I didn’t take it, I swear.”
But my words fall on deaf ears. He backhands me, the force of the blow sending me to the ground. Pain explodes across my face, the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth.
“You better tell me the truth,” he tsks. “Or your father will pay for your lies.”
I scramble to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest. “I didn’t take it. Please, believe me!”
My father coughs, blood dribbling from his mouth. His bloodshot eyes meet mine, filled with desperation, pleading for me to hold on. “Dario…tell them. Tell them you didn’t take it.”
“I didn’t,” I sob, my voice shaking. I look at Lorenzo, standing silently in the corner with his mother. He’s my best friend. He knows I wouldn’t steal anything. I’m not a thief. “Lorenzo, please. Tell them!”
His eyes meet mine for a brief second before he looks away. His face is expressionless. Cold. As if he doesn’t even know me. His mother whispers something in his ear, and he nods, stepping forward.
“He took it, Papa,” Lorenzo says, his voice calm and detached. “I told him about it yesterday, and it went missing today. Dario stole the watch.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The room spins, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My heart feels like it’s being torn apart, ripped from my chest.
Lorenzo’s father smirks, satisfaction dancing in his eyes. He turns back to my father, his fist rising ? —
I jolt awake, my breath ragged, my body drenched in sweat. My heart races, and I remind myself it’s just a dream.
I’m not twelve. I’m not in that room.
I’m in Ginny’s bed. And she’s gone.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife. I grab it with shaky hands, my heart plummeting as I read the chilling message on my screen.
You’ve stirred the wrath of too many vipers, Dario. If you want to see your girl again, come to the Manor’s junkyard behind the old cemetery. Alone. Or she dies.