Chapter 26
Loriana
The morning light streams through our bedroom windows as I watch Simeone adjust his tie, his movements sharp with the kind of focused energy that usually means someone’s about to have a very bad day.
He’s trying to keep the mood light, but now that the wedding’s over, his usual worries have come back with full force.
“So,” I say, setting down my tea cup, “what happens to Flavio now?”
“Now? Now he becomes what he always should have been—a problem to be eliminated from the succession entirely.”
The casual way he discusses removing his former nephew from the family hierarchy makes something cold settle in my stomach. This is the Silver Devil I married—the man who solves problems with absolute finality.
“You’re talking about cutting him off completely.”
“I’m talking about ensuring our child’s inheritance isn’t threatened by a pretender with no legitimate claim.” He turns from the mirror. His eyes lock on mine. “The Codella legacy belongs to our bloodline now, stellina. Not to some bastard who’s been masquerading as family for over two decades.”
The possessive satisfaction in his voice when he says our child sends heat curling through my chest despite the gravity of what we’re discussing. But underneath the warmth runs something that might be concern.
“Simeone,” I stand and move toward him, noting how his gaze tracks every movement. “Maybe you should think about this decision for a few more days. Make sure you’re not acting purely out of rage.”
“Rage?” His smile is sharp. “This isn’t rage, moglie mia. This is justice. This is correcting twenty years of misplaced loyalty.”
“This is also potentially signing a death warrant for someone you raised as your own son.” I frame his face with my hands, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. “Blood or not, you loved him once. That has to count for something.”
For a moment, something flickers in his expression. Then his jaw hardens with resolve.
“What counts is protecting what’s mine. You. Our child. The empire I’ve built.” His hands cover mine, warm and steady. “But you’re right about one thing—I should consider all the implications before making final arrangements.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it. Really think. Not just plan the most efficient way to eliminate a threat.”
“I promise.” He leans down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “A few more days of consideration won’t change the ultimate outcome, but I’ll weigh all the options.”
Relief floods through me, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because despite everything Flavio has done, the thought of Simeone crossing that particular line sits wrong in my chest.
“Where are you going today?” I ask as he shrugs into his jacket.
“Meetings with the port authority about the new shipping arrangements. Some delicate negotiations that require my personal attention.” His expression darkens slightly. “Unfortunately, it means I’ll be away from the estate most of the day.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, though I catch the way his eyes narrow with concern. “Tiziano and I have the security protocols locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and I’m planning to spend most of the day working on nursery designs.”
“Nursery designs?” The unexpected vulnerability in his voice makes my heart skip.
“Someone has to start planning for our little heir,” I tease, letting my hand rest on my stomach. “Unless you’re planning to raise our child in a fortress without any consideration for comfort or beauty.”
“Everything our child needs will be provided.” The vow carries the weight of absolute conviction. “Beautiful, safe, worthy of the next generation of Codellas.”
The way he says it—like our baby is already the most precious thing in his world—makes my heart swell.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Ti amo, stellina. More than I thought possible. More than is probably safe for either of us.”
After he leaves, I spend the morning reviewing furniture catalogs and paint samples, letting myself imagine what it will be like to create a nursery with a man who approaches everything—even baby planning—with the intensity of a military campaign.
The thought makes me smile as I spread fabric swatches across the library table.
Noon hits, and I need air. This fortress is suffocating me. Surely I can walk my own damn garden without setting off alarms.
I slip out through the French doors leading to the rose garden, breathing in the afternoon air that carries the scent of jasmine and freedom. The grounds stretch before me like a private paradise—manicured lawns, flowering trees, pathways that wind through carefully cultivated beauty.
This is my world now. Safe, secure, absolutely controlled. Sometimes I miss the chaos of my old life, the uncertainty that kept me sharp and aware. But as I rest my hand on my stomach, I remind myself that this protection isn’t just about me anymore.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires makes me turn toward the main drive, expecting to see one of Simeone’s security team returning from patrol.
Instead, I spot a dark van moving slowly along the perimeter road—not speeding like someone with legitimate business, but creeping like a predator stalking prey.
Warning bells start ringing in my head. This isn’t one of Simeone’s vehicles. The guards at the gate would never allow unauthorized access to the estate. Which means either there’s been a massive security breach, or—
“Hello, bambina.”
The voice behind me makes my blood turn to ice.
I spin around to find Flavio emerging from behind the gardenia bushes, his expensive suit wrinkled and his face bearing the yellowing remains of bruises from his last encounter with Simeone.
But it’s his eyes that make my skin crawl—flat, calculating, absolutely devoid of the charm he used to wield like a weapon.
“Surprised to see me?” His smile is poison wrapped in silk. “You shouldn’t be. I told you this wasn’t over.”
I take a step backward, my hand moving instinctively to my stomach. “How did you get onto the estate?”
“Money opens a lot of doors, even ones guarded by men who think they’re loyal.” His voice carries the bitter satisfaction of someone who’s discovered just how easily honor can be purchased. “Amazing what a security guard will overlook when his gambling debts suddenly disappear.”
“Simeone will—”
“Simeone will do exactly what I want him to do.” Flavio moves closer, and I see something that looks like madness flickering behind his dark eyes. “Because you’re going to help me make sure of that.”
“I’m not helping you with anything.” I continue backing away, but he matches my movement step for step. “Whatever game you think you’re playing—”
“This isn’t a game.” His voice drops to that whisper that once seemed charming but now sounds like barely controlled violence. “This is survival. Your husband has decided I’m expendable. But he’s about to learn that some people don’t disappear quietly.”
The van I spotted earlier is getting closer, and I realize with crystalline clarity that this isn’t some chance encounter. This is a coordinated attack, carefully planned and precisely executed while Simeone is away from the estate.
“You’re making a mistake,” I say, trying to project more confidence than I feel. “Whatever you think this will accomplish—”
“This will accomplish exactly what I need.” His smile turns savage. “Uncle Simeone values nothing more than what belongs to him. And right now, what belongs to him is you and that bastard growing in your belly.”
The choice of words makes rage flare in my chest, hot and bright. “Don’t you dare—”
“Don’t I dare what? Call things what they are?” He laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. “You’re a pawn, bambina. A beautiful, expensive pawn in a game between men. And pawns get sacrificed when the board needs clearing.”
I turn to run, but he’s faster than I expected. His hand clamps around my wrist with bruising force, and suddenly I’m being dragged toward the van that’s now pulling up beside the garden path.
“Let go of me!” I struggle against his grip, but he’s stronger than I remembered, desperation giving him the kind of vicious strength that comes from having nothing left to lose.
“Stop fighting,” he snarls, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks. “This will be easier if you don’t make me hurt you.”
“Fuck you.” I drive my elbow back toward his solar plexus, earning a grunt of pain and a moment of loosened grip.
But it’s not enough. His other hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back with enough force to bring tears to my eyes. “I said stop fighting.”
The van door slides open, revealing the darkness within. No matter how this ends, I know with terrible certainty that nothing will ever be the same. This isn’t just a kidnapping—it’s a declaration of war between two men, and I’m about to become the battlefield.
“Simeone will kill you for this,” I manage through gritted teeth as Flavio pushes me toward the open door.
“Probably.” His voice carries a note of resignation that might be acceptance or madness. “But not before I make him suffer the way I’ve suffered. Not before I take everything he values and watch him break.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m desperate.” He shoves me into the van with enough force to send me sprawling across the metal floor. “And desperate men are the most dangerous kind.”
The door slams. Darkness swallows me whole—metal floor, stale air, the sharp bite of bleach that can’t quite mask something rotten underneath. Flavio’s voice cuts through steel, barking directions I can’t make out.
As the van lurches into motion, carrying me away from the safety of Simeone’s fortress, I press my hand to my stomach and make a silent promise to the life growing there. Whatever Flavio has planned, whatever game he thinks he’s playing, he’s underestimated one crucial factor.
I’m not just Simeone’s wife anymore. I’m not just some pawn to be moved around the board for men’s convenience.
I’m a Codella now. And Codellas don’t surrender without a fight.
The van speeds through streets I can’t see, carrying me toward whatever hell Flavio has prepared. But underneath the fear and rage runs a cold, calculating fury that tastes like steel.
He wants to use me against my husband? He wants to threaten what’s mine?
He’s about to learn exactly why the Silver Devil chose me as his queen.
The warehouse smell hits me before I even see it—rust and abandonment and the kind of decay that comes from years of neglect. When the van finally stops and the door slides open, harsh fluorescent light spills across my face, making me squint against the sudden brightness.
“Welcome to your new accommodations,” Flavio says with mock courtesy, hauling me out of the van with hands that show no gentleness. “I hope you’ll find them... educational.”
I stand on unsteady legs, taking in the cavernous space around me. Concrete floors stained with substances I don’t want to identify. High windows too grimy to see through. Industrial equipment covered in dust and rust, like the skeletal remains of some long-dead operation.
It’s the perfect place for someone to disappear.