**Stefano's POV**

I heard it before I touched the doorknob, a sound that tightened my chest and slowed my steps. A woman's voice echoed through the door, and I could feel her anger in every word she spoke before I saw her face.

Elena Castellano.

I pushed the door open, and her sparkling blue eyes met mine. She paused for a second, and I noticed the fading bruises on her temple, cheekbone, and shoulder.

My stomach tightened at the sight.

The room fell silent, almost too quiet, and I could hear her breathing as her anger radiated outward.

Armando stood stiffly behind his desk, his jaw clenched so tight. “Elena,” he said, maintaining his composure. “This is Stefano Bernardo.”

Her eyes widened instantly. "No!" she spat out, her face set in a fierce expression.

“Elena!” her father warned, his voice firm.

She shook her head and stepped back. "You can’t force me into this,” she said, her voice wavering, but she held back her tears. 

She ran out of the room, passing me quickly, and I caught a faint scent of vanilla with a hint of something sharp, possibly citrus, on her skin.

“Elena!” Armando called after her, but she was already gone. Elario slipped out behind her, muttering something about giving her some space. 

Suddenly it was just Armando and me.

He let out a long breath, shoulders sagging. “Forgive her, Stefano. She's been through a lot. The accident… she's still recovering.”

“She's strong,” I whispered, still looking at the door where she had disappeared.

“She'll come around once she understands what's at stake,” Armando said, sounding almost relieved.

“I'll give her time,” I replied. “But you should arrange a proper meeting soon. I want to get to know my future wife.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

As I prepared to leave, I saw her through the window. She was pacing back and forth in the garden, hair wild around her face, while her brother tried to calm her.

She looked like chaos wrapped in silk and defiance.

And for reasons I didn't want to admit, I couldn't look away.

*****

The club was dimly lit as I entered. Raffaele Lorusso stood at the bar, calmly wiping his hands with a napkin, as one of his men quickly dealt with a situation on the floor.

“That one talked too much,” Raffaele said casually as his attention shifted to me.

His green eyes hardly blinked, always alert. His hair was a deep red under the dim lights, slicked back but messy around a noticeable scar that ran from his cheekbone to his jaw

“Sit, Bernardo,” he ordered.

I sat down. The air around us felt thick with tension.

Raffaele leaned on the table, watching me intently, curiosity in his eyes. "So," he said softly as he lit a cigarette, "the plan. Tell me it's progressing."

“It is. Faster than we expected.”

His lips curved slightly. “Good. I have little patience for delays.”

I poured myself a drink, feeling the liquor burn my throat. "Because of your phrase, my men used," I finally said. "Armando now believes your people targeted his daughter. He sees it as a warning from the Lorusso clan."

Raffaele exhaled smoke through his nose, looking amused. “So he blames me.”

“He does. Because of that, he came to me.” I paused and met his gaze. “He asked for my protection.”

Raffaele chuckled. “He came to you to hide from me? That's poetic.”

“It's strategic,” I replied. “Exactly what we wanted. He thinks I’m an ally. He doesn't know I was behind the attack on his daughter.”

Raffaele pressed, "And what about the girl?"

“She has been discharged from the hospital,” I said. “She's the key. Armando's already desperate to keep her safe; he'll do anything now to protect her. That's our advantage in this situation.”

Raffaele studied me for a while, then nodded. “So what's next?”

“Marriage,” I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “It's already in motion. Armando believes marrying me is the only way to protect her. In four weeks, we'll have the wedding. After that, the real plan begins. I'll take everything from him, his assets, his deals, his power.”

Raffaele smiled slowly. “And my share?”

“As agreed, you'll receive half of the Castellano assets. You'll control the docks, supply routes, and northern territories.”

He flicked ash into the tray and looked at me with an expression that almost resembled respect. "I like you, Bernardo." He took a sip of his drink. "You're not soft like your father.”

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit, but I kept my face blank. "You didn't really know my father."

"I was aware of him," Raffaele said, his voice softening. "Everyone was… but those who trust too easily don't last long.”

My jaw tightened. “He trusted the wrong person.”

"Castellano," Raffaele sneered, the name dripping with disdain. "Now you're set to make him pay for what he did, step by step. I can live with that."

A knot of doubt suddenly twisted in my stomach, urging me to walk away while I still could. I stared into my glass, trying to drown out the worry, but each time I remembered what Armando did to my father, the fear faded, leaving only the determination to see this through.

Raffaele stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, then fixed his gaze on me. "Keep me updated," he said. "If Armando starts sniffing around, I'll lay a trail to keep him in the dark. But if this goes wrong…" He glanced deliberately at me. "You will clean up your own mess."

I stood, buttoning my jacket, my movements steady and controlled. “I always do.”

His lips lifted into a cold smile again. "Good. Then go make the princess fall in love with you."

Leaving the club, the memory of my father hit me all over again.

Four years ago, I had witnessed Armando pull the trigger. They were supposed to be friends, or at least that's what everyone thought, but Armando exploited that trust out of greed. He thought he had gotten away with what he did, believing no one saw him, but he never knew I was there.

I still carried the memory of my father's final moments, waiting patiently for my chance at revenge.

At last, the moment has finally arrived.

**Stefano's POV**

When I walked into the office later that night, the silence swallowed the click of the lock behind me. I loosened the knot of my tie and poured a generous drink, watching the amber liquid catch the low light as it filled the glass. I needed the familiar burn to chase away the restless energy that had been building inside me all evening.

The weight of the day pressed on my shoulders: the meeting with Armando, the sight of Elena's bruises, and the carefully laid plans that were finally beginning to move. I took a small sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest, but it did little to ease the familiar empty feeling in my chest.

Then I heard the click of heels behind me.

Lucia Romano.

She entered the room. Her red dress clung to her figure, and the heavy scent of her perfume filled the air.

I looked at her, keeping my expression neutral. “You did well.”

Lucia's smile didn't reach her eyes as she gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles turning white.

"You told me to warn you the moment Elena went out alone. I did what you asked." She clenched her jaw and held my gaze, her eyes blazing with anger. “She was supposed to be eliminated. Why is she still breathing?”

The anger in her words was sharp, but beneath it I heard the hurt and the jealousy she couldn't hide. I watched her briefly, letting the silence grow between us.

She shifted her weight, and I could see the question in her eyes, the way she wanted me to say something, anything at all.

“Are you truly going to marry her? After everything I've done for you and all we've been through?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears, as her voice broke on the last word.

“What we've been through,” I said flatly, “was never about love.”

She took a step closer, her breathing uneven. “You told me she was nothing. You said she was only meant to be a warning to her father. So why is she still here, Stefano? Why are you tying yourself to her?”

"She was never supposed to die.” ​I held her gaze, my voice cold and steady. "I just needed Armando to be afraid. Elena is very useful to me.”

“And me?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. “What am I to you, then?”

I set my glass down on the desk and stood, towering over her. “You're mine, Lucia. But you don't get to question what that means or demand more than I'm willing to give.”

She stared at me, her face tight with pain. "You always think ten steps ahead," she whispered, "but do you even feel anything anymore?"

“Feelings get in the way,” I said with a faint smile. “They cloud judgment and destroy plans.”

She closed the remaining distance between us. Her fingertips traced the line of my jaw. “Maybe feeling something is what keeps us human, Stefano.”

I caught her wrist and pulled her closer. “You knew exactly what this arrangement was from the beginning. You wanted power and influence too.”

​“I wanted you!” she retorted.

The room fell silent, thick with tension, and I noticed the quick flash of desire in her eyes.

She pressed against me, her lips met mine in a kiss filled with frustration and longing. What started as anger quickly turned into raw passion. We gave in completely, losing ourselves as clothes were quickly shed in a rush of need. I lifted her onto the desk, papers scattering across the floor as we lost ourselves in each other.

In that instant, Elena flashed into my mind, her fierce glare, those burning blue eyes filled with challenge.

Why was she haunting my thoughts now?

My every move was desperate as I tried to force Elena out of my mind.

“I love you so much, Stefano,” Lucia moaned against me.

I froze mid-motion. The word ‘love’ caught me completely off guard, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. For a brief second, something uncomfortable twisted in my chest. I forced myself forward, driving harder and faster, more urgently, until all I heard was the sound of our ragged breathing.

When it was over, Lucia sat on the edge of the desk, breathing heavily, her hair falling over her face, while I slowly buttoned my shirt, watching her chest rise and fall.

She lifted her head, meeting my gaze, her eyes filled with sadness. “When this is all over,” she asked softly, her voice laced with hope, “once you've destroyed them, will I truly be yours? No more pretending, no more secrets?”

I stepped closer, lifting her chin with my fingers. “You will get what you deserve, Lucia.”

She hesitated, her expression shifting. “And Elena? If marrying her is what makes your plan work, what will happen after the marriage?”

I turned and looked at her over my shoulder. "Elena will learn who really controls her. It's the only way to make her father pay for what he did to my family.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a second I thought she might say something sharp, but she just pressed her lips together and turned away.

The sound of her heels on the floor was the only answer I got.

As she reached for the door, my voice cut through the silence: "Don't let your guard down in that house,” I warned her. "Elario is clever."

​"I've done this for three years." Her eyes flashed with frustration. "They still haven't found out. You should trust me more.”

She left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.

I walked to the window, staring at my reflection in the glass. “She'll marry me,” I murmured. “Then she'll help me destroy her father with her own hands.”

Her father's betrayal had shattered my family, leaving a wound that only revenge could heal. I must finish this, not just for power, but for justice for my father.

“The Master's move.” A faint smile touched my lips.

I opened the desk drawer and pulled out a file. Elena Castellano's photo stared back at me, her eyes sharp and full of life.

“Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't survived…” My thumb traced the outline of her face. “Now you will pay for your father's sins.”

**Elena's POV**

The vase smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces before I even realized I'd thrown it. Water sprayed everywhere, and the tulips lay scattered across the wet floor.

My father's voice still echoed in my head.

"Your wedding is in two weeks."

Two freaking weeks!

My fingers curled around the edge of the table, itching to grab something else and hurl it across the room, but I knew it wouldn't matter; nothing I broke would fix any of this.

I stared at the mess on the floor, the tulips crushed beneath my heel, and my chest tightened.

For a second, I could see my mother's hands pressing bulbs into the earth as I watched her, waiting for the smile she always gave me when she caught me looking.

"Gosh, I missed those smiles so much it hurt."

Nothing felt real anymore, not since the crash.

My shoulders slumped, and I let the numbness wash over me, too tired to fight it.

Then the door creaked open behind me. "Elena."

I turned, and my father stood there.

"You already set the date?" I shot at him, not even waiting for him to enter the room.

He exhaled slowly and quietly. "It's about time." His eyes were fixed on the wall just beyond my shoulder, avoiding my gaze. He kept staring there as he said, "Stefano is coming for lunch tomorrow."

"Lunch?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "You're planning my wedding like it's a business meeting."

"It is business," he replied gently. "You've been through so much, Cara mia. Stefano is a good man, and his father was my friend. This marriage will keep you safe."

Safe.

I flinched at the word and let my shoulders slump slightly, letting out a sharp sigh. The word felt like a lie every time I heard it.

I bent down to pick up the shattered vase, pretending to care about the mess because I couldn't look at him. "If safety is what you want, Father, then build me a prison," I whispered, barely audible.

"You think I haven't already lost enough? Your mother..."

"Don't," I interrupted, tears building up. "Don't use her to justify this."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "You'll understand one day."

"I understand perfectly," I whispered, the ache in my chest deepening.

He turned to leave, and the door closed behind him, leaving a silence heavier than his words.

I stayed there, my knees pressed into the wet floor, watching the water creep up my dress until it clung to my skin.

Three long months had passed since the crash. Two months had passed since I woke up and found my life rewritten.

People kept saying I was lucky to be alive, but I never felt lucky. Some days, I wished I hadn't woken up at all, because at least then I might finally get some peace.

There was just this emptiness inside me, as if something important had been scooped out, leaving nothing but the empty space.

I walked to the window and pressed my palm against the cold glass, staring out at Milan spread below, all lights and movement and freedom. And I felt smaller than ever, trapped on the wrong side of the glass.

I thought of my mother, who died in a shootout four years ago, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was the cost of my father's world.

After that, he promised to keep me safe, but his protection felt like a cage.

For a moment, I imagined a different life. My mother would still be alive, and my father would be just an ordinary man. Maybe I'd be out somewhere, laughing over coffee, thinking about something as simple as falling in love.

Love?

Would I ever really know what love was supposed to feel like? The thought tightened my throat.

A deep ache spread in my chest.

Stefano.

I briefly remembered the moment he entered my father's office.

At first, I couldn't help but stare. He was extremely good-looking, sure, but there was something about the way he looked at me, those cold hazel eyes and the dark snake tattoos curling up his hands and neck, that made my skin crawl.

Whatever curiosity I had died instantly, replaced by a knot of fear in my stomach. He looked exactly like a man who could smash a life just by getting bored.

The door opened again, interrupting my thoughts. My brother's voice cut through the silence.

"Elena?"

I turned to him, and my heart felt a little lighter. "Did he send you to check on me?"

Elario leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. "Maybe."

I almost managed a smile. "Then tell him I'm fine."

He looked closely at me. "You're holding broken glass."

I looked down, surprised to see blood forming on my fingers. I hadn't felt a thing, but the blood was real on my skin.

Elario stepped in and gently took the glass from my hands. "Everything will be okay," he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

"Will it?"

He paused, searching for the right words. "Stefano's not a bad man."

"You sound like Papa."

"I'm just saying, he's... respected."

"In our world, that word doesn't mean safe. It means feared," I retorted.

He fell silent.

"Do you think she'd be proud of him? Of what he has done to keep us safe?" I whispered.

Elario's expression softened. "She would want you alive."

"That's not the same," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Try to rest. Tomorrow will be a long day for you."

It finally dawned on me that I had nowhere to escape, no options left, only this life I never wanted.

I dug through my dresser until my fingers closed around the thin gold chain my mother used to wear. I hadn't touched it in years, but just holding it made something warm flicker in my chest, as if she were still here for a second.

I fastened the necklace and stared at my reflection.

The girl in the mirror looked washed out, her hair too bright against skin that had faded, and her blue eyes, dull and exhausted.

I barely recognized myself.

There was a gentle knock at the door. It was my father again.

"Elena," he said softly from the doorway. "We need to talk."

"You've already said all there is to say."

He paused, his voice filled with concern. "Still, you deserve to know why."

Reluctantly, I turned to him. "Fine. Explain why you're selling me off to the Bernados."

"Watch your tone," he warned, the muscles in his jaw suddenly clenching.

"I'm not one of your men," I snapped, my voice sharpened by anger. I leaned forward slightly, driving the point home. "Stop barking orders; I won't obey."

He closed the distance between us, his gaze pleading for me to understand. "Do you really think I want this? Do you think I want my daughter to marry for protection rather than love?"

"Then stop it," I pleaded, desperate for him to hear me out.

With a slow shake of his head, he continued, "The Lorusso clan won't stop until we're destroyed. Three months ago, they ambushed our men in broad daylight, killing two and injuring others. They're relentless, and the threat grows each day. Stefano's family has men and resources. He's loyal. This alliance is meant to keep you safe. I don't want you to get hurt anymore."

"You think a ring can protect me better than your guns ever could?" I challenged, my voice trembling with emotion.

His silence spoke volumes.

"I need some air," I muttered, rubbing my temples hard. I wasn't even trying to hide how done I was with all of this.

As I approached the door, my heart raced, weighed down by my reality. "You can't keep me locked away forever."

"I never meant to," he said quietly behind me.

I spun around to face him, my voice sharp, strained by the effort of holding back tears. "I'll never forgive you. Not for this."

He met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw how tired he was, as if all his hidden worries were finally surfacing.

"You don't have to forgive me," he said, his voice low. "Just promise me you'll stay alive."

I couldn't find the words to respond.

I stepped into the hallway, my hands trembling so badly I had to shove them into my pockets just to keep it together.

Tomorrow, I'd have to sit across from Stefano Bernardo, the man my father believed could keep me safe.

I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling my heart slam against my ribs, wild and out of control.

As I descended the stairs, the house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the TV downstairs.

Then I heard our family name.

"The Castellano-Bernardo alliance is likely to deepen the connection between the two most influential families in Milan..."

For a moment, I was completely frozen, my hands gripping the handrail. The words on the TV felt disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else's life, not mine.

My bare feet hit the cold tile as I made my way down the stairs, one slow step at a time.

On the screen, a headline scrolled across the bottom:

CASTELLANO HEIRESS ENGAGED TO STEFANO BERNARDO.

I took a shaky breath, my mouth wide open, as I stared at the screen and the reality finally set in. This was really happening.