87 | What's their endgame?
The study is dark, with walls that swallow the dim light from the desk lamp. The air is thick with the scent of leather and my own rage.
I stand by the window, looking out at the backyard, but my focus is on the note in my hand, the blood-red words burning into me: I will take back what's mine.
The paper trembles in my hand, not from fear, but from fury. A storm is building in my chest because this note threatens Aurelia.
She's down the hall now, in a session with Dr. Navarro, using breathing techniques to calm the panic I saw in her golden eyes when she handed me this note. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was steady, trying not to harm herself.
I'm proud of her, but I'm also unraveling. For three weeks, I've been hunting Ciara, chasing a ghost who's alive, who's daring to hurt what's mine, and I'm still steps behind.
I clench the note, the blood crusting under my grip. Every fiber of me screams to find Ciara, to end this, to keep Aurelia safe before the Costa Ball, before Ciara's poison seeps deeper.
She's out there, hiding, plotting, and I'm running out of time. The ball looms like a stage for her to strike.
Aurelia's planning it with crimson gowns, Shakespearean romance, her heart poured into every detail, and I'll be damned if Ciara ruins it, if she steals the light my wife's fought so hard to reclaim.
I've been gentle with Aurelia, kissing her, holding her wrist to count her pulse, loving her with every breath, but I've hidden the truth that Ciara is empty grave.
I won't let her carry this, won't let it break her when she's healing, growing, becoming more with every session.
Nico steps into the room, his scarred face unreadable, but his eyes meet mine, knowing the war I'm waging.
I thrust the note at him, my voice barely controlled.
"Check whose blood this is," I order. "Run it through every test we've got. I want answers, Nico, now."
He takes it, nodding, handling the note like it's a bomb.
"Got it," he says, then pauses, his gaze sharpening. "I looked through CCTV cameras around the city, every corner, every dive bar, every alley. There's only one video of Ciara and it's dated weeks after she supposedly died. She's hiding, or someone's hiding her."
I turn, my jaw tight, mind racing through enemies, allies, ghosts.
"Gabriele's locked up, right?" I ask, thinking of that bastard, his smug face still fresh in my mind. "He can't be hiding her."
Nico nods, leaning against the desk. "Yeah, he's in the basement, sweating it out. No way he's pulling strings. Someone else is helping her, someone who helped stage that car accident, her 'death.'"
I start to pace, my shoes silent on the rug, my blood humming with purpose.
"Her mom?" I ask, thinking of the woman I ended a few months back, her cruelty to Aurelia a sin I couldn't forgive. "Before I killed her, could she have set this up?"
Nico shrugs, eyes narrowing, calculating. "Possible, but unlikely. I'm thinking her biological dad. Not Mr. Nash, but the bodyguard,Leonardo."
I stop, my gaze snapping to his.
"Her biological dad?" I say, voice low, sharp. "You mean he is alive?"
Nico pulls out his phone, swiping to a file. "Yeah. Tracked him down, and Leonardo was not dead when Ciara's 'accident' happened, he was living in Milan, low profile, working security for some two-bit dealer. No record of him dying, but he disappeared after her death was announced."
I lean against the wall, mind spinning, pieces clicking into place but not enough, not yet.
"Where is he now?" I ask, my voice cold, a blade ready to cut.
Nico shakes his head, frustration flickering.
"No trace, yet. He's hiding, but I'll find him.
Point is, he's got motive, connections. I dug deeper about him, and this guy's a gambling addict, drowning in debt, but he's got ties to the underworld, not big players, but enough to keep him out of trouble. "
I nod, jaw tightening. It's falling into place, a twisted game I should've seen.
"What doLeonardo and Ciara want?" I ask, voice low, lethal. "Besides trying to ruin our lives, my marriage, what's their endgame?"
Nico meets my eyes, his voice grim. "Money, for him.
Leonardo is desperate because there are debtors breathing down his neck.
I'd bet he's using Ciara, pushing her to get to you, to squeeze you for cash.
Ciara? She's different. She's using him too, probably thinks she can get you back, tear you from Aurelia, like you're a prize she can reclaim. "
I laugh, a bitter sound, because the idea of Ciara thinking she can touch me again is absurd.
"SoLeonardo wants my money," I say, "And Ciara wants me, wants to destroy what we've built. They're playing each other, and Aurelia's caught in the crossfire."
Nico nods, eyes hard, mirroring my rage. "Most likely.Leonardo is the planner, staged the crash, kept her hidden. Ciara's the face, the one who knows how to hurt her sister, knows what cuts deepest. They're a team, but not a good one, greed and obsession don't mix clean."
I push off the wall, hands flexing, itching for blood, for closure.
The Costa Ball's in days, and I need this to end, need Aurelia safe, shining in her crimson gown, not haunted by notes in blood.
"Find them," I say, voice low, a vow carved in steel. "Leonardo, Ciara, whoever's pulling strings. I want them before the ball, Nico. No mistakes."
He straightens, pocketing the note, his nod sharp.
"On it," he says, and he's gone, the door clicking shut, leaving me alone with my fury, my love, my fear.
────??────
The bedroom is a sanctuary. Its soft lamplight spills over the bed sheets, casting Aurelia in a glow that makes my heart ache with a love so fierce it's almost violence.
She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, her hair loose, her journal open in her lap, a pen moving in slow strokes as she spills her thoughts, her emotions. Her fight against the shadows of PTSD and BPD, her strength blooming with every word.
I lean against the doorframe, my arms crossed, watching her, unable to look away.
Her pen pauses, her lips parting in a small sigh, and I'm lost in her. The freckles dusting her nose, the gold ring glinting on her finger, matching mine.
She doesn't see me watching, doesn't know how every breath she takes is a reason I'd burn empires for her, and I'm content to stand here, guarding her peace.
Until my phone buzzes in my pocket, sharp and insistent, shattering the moment. I glance at the screen.
Unknown number.
My jaw tightens, instinct screaming trouble.
I slip into the hall, closing the door softly, not wanting to disturb her, and answer, my voice low, edged with warning. "Who is this?"
A pause before a familiar, voice dripping with a false sweetness that makes my blood run cold.
"Babe," Ciara says, her tone a calculated mix of warmth and pain, like she's reaching for something she's already lost. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I missed you so much."
My grip on the phone tightens, rage flaring, because she's alive.
She's here, daring to speak to me after that note, after the videos, after hurting Aurelia.
"What the fuck do you want?" I I ask, my voice a blade, cutting through her act. "You think you can just call me, play whatever game this is? You're done."
She laughs, but there's a crack in it, a desperation she can't hide.
"Oh, come on, Luciano," she says, her voice dropping, trying to pull me in. "Don't be so cold. I'm not your enemy. I'm... I'm a victim here, too. You don't know what I've been through, what I've had to do to survive."
I pace the hall, my free hand flexing, wanting to break something, because her lies are poison, and I'm not the fool I was a year ago.
"Victim?" I snap, my voice low, lethal. "You staged your death, Ciara. You're sending notes in blood, tormenting my wife. Don't fucking play me. What do you want?"
Another pause, and I hear her breath hitch, like she's weighing her next move, trying to find a crack in my armor.
"Aurelia," she says, her voice hardening, a bitter edge slicing through. "Always Aurelia. You think she's so perfect, so innocent, but she's not, Luciano. She's weak, clinging to you, dragging you down. I know what you need, what we had. I'm back now, and I can—"
"Shut up," I cut in, my voice a snarl, rage boiling over, because she dares speak her name, dares think she could touch what's mine.
"You know nothing about her, about us. What we had?
It was nothing, it was justmanipulation andillusion, not love.
Aurelia's my heart, my soul, and you're a ghost who doesn't get it.
You're not clawing your way back, Ciara, because there's no place for you here. "
Her laugh returns, sharper now, tinged with venom.
"You're blind," she says, her voice rising. "You think you can just erase me? I'm not gone, Luciano. I'm right here, and I'll take what's mine, you, the life we should've had. Aurelia's a phase, a mistake, and I'll show you—"
I stop pacing, my voice dropping to a deadly calm, each word a promise carved in blood.
"Listen to me," I cut in again, "You so much as touch her, look at her, breathe near her, and I'll find you.
I'll end you, Ciara, and it won't be quick.
I know you're out there, hiding, scheming with your father or whoever's pulling your strings.
I'm coming for you, and there's nowhere you can run. "
There is only heavy silence for a few moments until I hear her swallow, the bravado faltering.
"You're making a mistake," she whispers, but it's weak, a last gasp, and I know I've hit her, know she's scared, because she should be.
"No," I say, my voice final. "You made the mistake thinking you could touch what's mine."
I hang up, my hand trembling with restraint, because I want to crush the phone, want to hunt her now, drag her from whatever hole she's in and make her pay for every tear, every fear she's caused Aurelia.