The last time I had been to this lounge was the day before Lorenzo’s death. That night, I had to confront him personally—even though I had stayed out of the business ever since we became partners.

The reason for that confrontation is known to only a few people to this day—and I’d prefer to keep it that way.

When I turned down Luca's invitation to go to the club, I came here hoping she might show up. The fire I saw in her sharp hazel eyes at the cemetery told me she was hungry for the truth about what happened to her husband.

And I had been right. She’s here for answers. I underestimated her—maybe more than I’d like to admit.

I just hadn’t expected her to confront me so directly.

She walked into the lounge with a boldness that made it seem like she’d been coming here all her life. Her heels complemented the elegant lines of her legs, and her skin glowed under the lounge lights, a perfect match for the warm amber tones. Her long, dark hair framed her magazine-cover face and cascaded down her back in soft waves.

She seemed to enjoy the attention as heads turned in her direction—but her focus was only on me.

I couldn’t blame the men for looking at her the way they did. Hell, even I wasn’t immune. But the sharp edge in her gaze warned me not to let my guard down. Her eyes weren’t softened by grief or confusion anymore. No, there was steel beneath those hazel irises—cold, hard steel.

Still, I would’ve preferred to see something other than the cold hatred burning in those sharp hazel eyes.

She was challenging me—and I’m not the type to lose, especially when there’s a slim chance I might be able to change her opinion of me.

I downed the last of my Scotch and straightened up, my eyes following her as she disappeared deeper into the lounge. I gave her a small head start, letting her think she was in control. She wasn’t. Not yet.

I rose to my feet, adjusting my jacket as I followed her, keeping a safe distance. She moved through the casino with quiet confidence, her heels clicking against the polished floor in a steady rhythm. Heads turned as she passed, but she didn’t seem to notice—or care.

After a while, I realized she was heading toward her late husband’s private office.

Interesting.

From the shadows, I watched as she pulled a key from her bag.

Lorenzo’s key.

She unlocked the door but hesitated, standing there for a moment as if debating whether to go in. Her hand rested on the polished brass handle, her knuckles tightening.

Finally, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

I knew following her in there was a bad idea. I’m the last person she’d want to see.

From where I stood, I heard footsteps behind me. My instincts sharpened—someone was following her. It made sense, considering she was trying to expose them.

Without thinking, I slipped the pistol from the back of my pocket, my finger resting lightly on the trigger. Whoever it was, they’d be unlucky to walk away unscathed.

Then a figure stepped out of the shadows of the basement. My grip loosened the moment I recognized Dante—Lorenzo’s right-hand man. He was here to protect his boss’s wife.

But why was he dressed like that? No suit, no official look—he was in disguise, glancing around like he expected trouble.

I watched him move with calculated precision toward Lorenzo’s office, pausing at the door.

My hand tightened around the pistol. No matter how much she hated me, I wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

ELENA

You shouldn’t be here!”

The sharpness of his voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the folder in my hand.

Instinctively, I reached for the last gift Lorenzo had left me. As much as I hated carrying a gun, I’d come to realize it was the one thing I could rely on lately.

Slowly, I turned around, keeping the gun tucked beneath my bag, my fingers tightening around the handle.

“Dante,” I breathed, shocked to see him here at this hour. My surprise deepened when I took in his appearance—dressed in disguise, not his usual suit.

“I mean it, Mrs. Russon. You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated, his tone calmer but no less urgent than it had been before. “It’s not safe.”

“I was just in the casino, so I figured I’d check the office.” I lied effortlessly. At this point, I didn’t trust anyone.

“It’s late, ma’am. Let me escort you back to the mansion,” he said, gesturing toward the exit.

“Why are you dressed like that?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself.

Dante smiled—a rare sight. His dark eyes locked on mine.

“This is my night shift attire, ma’am,” he said smoothly. Then he stepped behind me, his presence steady and controlled, as he led me toward the car.

As he walked me to the car, a question kept nagging at the back of my mind.

“How did you find me?”

“Huh?” I heard the surprise in his voice from where he sat behind the wheel.

“How did you know I’d come to the casino tonight?” I pressed, unwilling to believe it was just his bodyguard instincts.

Barely had I closed my eyes when the nightmare came rushing back like a vivid vision.

I had gone to Colton’s room to check on him, even though Mother had said he was sleeping soundly.

As I was descending the stairs to join her in the living room, I heard voices — sharp, angry voices — and froze.

"Where's Vito Adrian?" one of the masked men shouted at my mother.

"He… he’s away on a business trip," my mother replied, her voice trembling. She knelt in the center of the large living room, her hands covering her mouth as though it might keep her fear from spilling out.

There were four of them. The one in the middle raised his gun and, without hesitation, shot her twice in the head.

A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. Their heads snapped toward me, and suddenly they were chasing me.

A loud knock at the door yanked me from the nightmare. I jolted awake, panting, my skin damp with sweat. My eyes drifted toward the air conditioner. It was working perfectly, humming quietly in the background.

The knock came again, sharp and insistent, pulling me fully into reality. I pulled my nightwear tightly around me and walked toward the door.

As soon as I opened it, Colton’s figure slumped against the frame. He reeked of alcohol and could barely stand upright.

“I need my car keys and ATM card,” he slurred, gripping the door for support.

“In this condition?” I snapped, disgust curling in my chest.

“And have you suddenly forgotten how to greet your elders?”

Colton muttered something under his breath as he stumbled into my room, collapsing onto my bed.

I sighed, watching him sprawled out, clearly wasted. Lecturing him in this state would be a waste of breath, so I turned and walked into the bathroom.

When I came out, Colton was fast asleep, half of his body hanging off the edge of the bed. I cursed under my breath and carefully shifted him until he was lying properly.

For a moment, I just stood there, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. My mind drifted back to that afternoon—how Colton had cried for our mother without stopping, as though he somehow knew something terrible had happened. He had only been two years old.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t raise you the way Mom would have,” I whispered, brushing my fingers through his soft, curly brown hair.

My hand drifted to the scar on my ribcage—still tender, as if the wound had never fully healed. The doctor had called it a miracle that I survived the knife’s penetration.

I remembered how it happened. One of them had thrown a dagger at me. I hit the ground, gasping for air as blood pooled beneath me. They had left me there, convinced I wouldn’t make it through the night.

The vibration of my phone snapped me out of the memory. Marco’s name lit up the screen.

It was time to go. I dressed quickly, casting one last look at Colton before heading out.

As I stepped into the reception, a flicker of disappointment crossed my mind—Nicole wasn’t at her desk yet. Then again, I had come in thirty minutes before resumption.

“Tell Kane and Jaxon to see me in my office. Now,” I instructed Marco.

“Yes, boss,” he said before hurrying off.

I walked to my desk, settling into the leather chair as I patiently waited.

“Good morning, boss,” they both said in unison as they entered.

My eyes swept over them. Jaxon, with his broad shoulders and the large tattoo snaking down his arm, stood like a predator poised to strike. His chest rose and fell steadily, exuding a quiet but dangerous energy.

Kane, on the other hand, was slender yet muscular, nearly matching my height. He stood with a calm, composed air, the kind of control that could turn deadly when needed.

I had chosen them for a reason. You don’t work for me without meeting certain… standards.

“Kane,” I said, my tone sharp, “from now on, you’re watching Colton. Don’t let him out of your sight—no matter what.”

“Jaxon, you're on Mrs. Russon. Track her every move and, more importantly, protect her with your life.”

“Are we clear?” My voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Yes, boss!” they answered in sync.

I gave a slight nod, signaling the meeting was over, and leaned back, stretching my legs beneath the expansive desk.

After seeing Elena snooping around the basement yesterday, I knew things were about to get complicated. In this business, you don’t go digging unless you know exactly what you’re getting into.

And Elena? She wouldn’t stop until she found the answers she was looking for. But the people behind her husband’s death wouldn’t just sit back and applaud her efforts.

She had no idea the danger she was walking into.