Mrs. Moretti's voice was gentle yet firm as she looked at Isabella with concern.
"Isabella… what did you mean when you said your father took away something you never got?" Her brows furrowed as she studied Isabella's tear-streaked face. "What did he take from you?"
Her husband placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she flinched, shaking her head. "No," she choked out, voice barely above a whisper. "He took my baby."
Dante stiffened. "What?"
Isabella didn't answer. She pressed a hand against her mouth as the sobs wracked her body.
Her husband's jaw clenched, his gaze darkening as realization dawned.
Dante, however, stood in disbelief. A chill ran down his spine as he watched his mother fall apart before him. He had thought his grandfather was cruel, but this… this was something else entirely.
And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the whole truth.
Dante's eyes were glassy, his head spinning. "And now he's dead," he whispered. He swallowed hard, then turned sharply, storming out of the room without another word.
The silence he left behind was suffocating.
Isabella closed her eyes, trying to suppress the tears. "He will need time," she murmured.
Mr. Russo nodded solemnly. "Time… and the truth."
The weight of Isabella's revelation settled heavily in the grand estate, the chilling silence broken only by the occasional murmurs of disbelief. Mrs. Moretti sat beside Isabella, soothing her as she wept into trembling hands, her cries muffled but filled with years of unspoken grief.
Isabella's breath hitched as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet the weight of her words silenced the entire room.
"My firstborn child… He took my baby away before I ever got to hold him." Her hands trembled as she clutched the fabric of her dress. "I was never even given a choice."
Mr. Moretti, usually composed, was frozen in place. His sharp gaze flickered between Isabella and his wife, trying to comprehend the gravity of what had just been revealed. "What do you mean he took away your firstborn?" Valerio's voice was sharp, slicing through the tension in the room.
Isabella shuddered, pulling away from Mrs. Moretti's comforting grasp. "My father…" she choked, struggling to get the words out. "He… he took my child the moment I gave birth. I never even got to hold him. He said—he said a weak mother like me didn't deserve to raise a strong heir. And then… he made him disappear."
Dante, who had been standing near the door, and didn't actually leave, clenched his fists at his sides. He was still reeling from the news of his grandfather's murder, trying to process the contrasting images of the kind old man he had known and the monster his mother was now describing.
"He never would have let me live in peace if I had spoken a word," Isabella whispered, her eyes filled with a deep, haunting sorrow. "I searched… I searched for years. But he made sure my baby was erased from existence."
Mr. Russo had remained quiet until now, his features shadowed in unspoken fury. He reached for Isabella's hand, gripping it tightly. "We have time, Isabella. We still can. If he's alive, we will find him."
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "If he's alive? I don't even know his name. I don't know if he's dead, if he was sold off, or if he was raised to hate me." Her voice cracked, and she covered her face with her hands. "My own father did this to me."
A deep, suffocating silence stretched between them, thick with grief and uncertainty. Valerio exchanged a glance with Dante, who stood motionless, his face pale, his mind whirling with everything he had just learned.
Valerio took a step toward him. "Are you okay?"
Dante snapped his head up, his usual lively expression absent. "Okay? My whole life, I thought my grandfather was someone else. I thought he loved us." His voice wavered before he inhaled sharply, steeling himself. "And now I find out he's a monster who took my older brother away? I had no idea, I had a sibling on the first place."
Valerio placed a firm hand on Dante's shoulder, grounding him. "He was a man who hid his sins behind kindness. You don't have to forgive him. But you need to face the truth."
Dante let out a bitter exhale, shaking his head. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
Just then, a knock at the door interrupted the thick tension in the room. A guard stepped in, his face grave. "Sir, there's been movement from the De Luca family. Salvatore De Luca is making a move."
Valerio straightened, his demeanor shifting instantly. He turned back to Dante's mother. "We'll find out the truth. And I promise, we won't stop until we know what happened to your child."
Isabella's watery gaze met his, something like hope flickering within the grief. "Then start with the De Lucas. If anyone in this city is hiding something, it's them."
At the evening
Leona stepped out of the bar, the cold night air biting at her skin. The streets were quieter than usual, a deep contrast to the chaos inside her mind. She had needed the distraction, the familiarity of mixing drinks and chatting with customers, but it had done little to ease the weight sitting in her chest.
Just as she turned the corner, her steps faltered. A figure leaned casually against a sleek black car, bathed in the dim glow of a streetlamp.
Salvatore De Luca.
Her stomach twisted. He wasn't supposed to be here.
"Leona," he greeted, his voice smooth, almost too pleasant. "What a coincidence."
Coincidence? She doubted it. Salvatore never moved without purpose.
She forced a neutral expression. "Mr. De Luca."
His lips twitched. "Ah, so formal. I expected something warmer after our last meeting."
Her fingers curled into fists inside her coat pockets. "What do you want?"
Salvatore chuckled, pushing off the car. He was too relaxed, too composed, and that set every nerve in her body on high alert. "I'm simply appreciating a lovely evening. And, as luck would have it, I ran into you."
She didn't trust his tone, nor the way his dark eyes held hers. There was something different tonight. A deliberate softness, an odd warmth that didn't match the man she knew.
"You should get going," she said flatly. "I doubt Moretti's men would appreciate you hanging around."
"Ah, but I enjoy danger." He took a slow step closer, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Besides, I was thinking… we never really talk, do we? Always on opposite sides of the storm."
Leona's throat tightened. This wasn't just a casual meeting. He was playing a game, but she couldn't figure out the rules.
"Why now?" she asked, her voice colder than she intended.
Salvatore tilted his head, considering her for a moment before smiling. "You interest me, Leona."
A sharp laugh almost escaped her. "That's a terrible thing to say, De Luca."
"And yet, I never lie."
Her pulse quickened. He was toying with her, testing the waters. But why?
As Salvatore turned to leave, he paused, reaching into his coat pocket. Leona tensed, half-expecting a knife or a gun, but instead, he pulled out a slim, white envelope.
"Before I go," he said smoothly, extending it toward her, "do me a favor, will you?"
Leona eyed the envelope suspiciously, not making a move to take it. "I don't run errands for you, De Luca."
His smile deepened, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. "Oh, I think you'll want to deliver this one." He gave the envelope a little shake. "For Moretti."
Her pulse kicked up. "What's in it?"
He let out a soft chuckle. "Now, where's the fun in telling you?"
Leona's fingers twitched. Everything about this felt wrong. But if she refused, he'd just find another way to get it to Valerio. At least this way, she could see what it was first.
With a sigh, she snatched the envelope from his hand. "If this is a trap—"
"I'd never put you in harm's way," Salvatore interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. His voice dipped, almost gentle. "You don't deserve that."
Leona swallowed, her grip tightening on the envelope. The way he was looking at her… it was different. Calculated.
She took a step back. "Stay away from me, De Luca."
Salvatore chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "As you wish, dolcezza."
"Stay safe, Leona," he murmured as he stepped back toward his car. "I'd hate to see you caught in the crossfire."
And with that, he left, leaving behind
As he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Leona standing there with an uneasy weight in her chest, a lingering chill ran down her spine, far colder than the night air—and an envelope that felt far heavier than it should.
Leona's heels clicked against the stone pathway as she entered the grand Moretti estate, the weight of the envelope burning against her palm. The mansion stood quiet under the midnight sky, but she knew the peace was deceptive. Inside, the air was always thick with tension, secrets, and violence waiting to explode.
As she pushed open the heavy doors, the dim glow of the hallway lights illuminated the luxurious yet suffocating interior. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with Salvatore De Luca—his unsettling kindness, the cryptic words, and most of all, the envelope now pressed tight against her side.
Leona hadn't decided if she would actually deliver it.
Would Valerio even believe her if she said Salvatore had given it to her with no further explanation? Would he assume she was involved in something dangerous?
She was too lost in her thoughts to notice the figure standing near the staircase—until a sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Where were you?"
She stopped in her tracks, eyes snapping to Valerio, who stood with his arms crossed, his gaze dark and unreadable. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, revealing the tension in his muscles. He had been waiting.
Leona exhaled slowly. "Out."
"Out where?"
She clenched her jaw. "The bar. Needed fresh air."
His gaze flickered over her, searching for something. Maybe a lie. Maybe an excuse.
"And you didn't think to tell anyone?"
Leona scoffed, stepping forward. "I wasn't aware I needed permission."
Valerio's jaw tightened, but his eyes flickered to the hand pressed to her side. His voice dropped. "What are you hiding?"
Damn him for always being too perceptive.
Leona hesitated, then slowly pulled the envelope into view.
"De Luca gave me this," she admitted. "For you."
Something shifted in Valerio's expression. His eyes darkened further, a storm brewing beneath them. He stepped closer, taking the envelope from her hand with careful precision.
Leona expected him to tear it open immediately, but instead, he just held it, his fingers tightening around the paper.
"Did he say anything?" His voice was calm, but she could hear the restraint beneath it.
"Only that I'd want to deliver it."
Valerio let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. "Of course he did."
He turned the envelope over, his thumb running along the seal, as if debating whether he even wanted to know what was inside.
Leona crossed her arms. "Are you going to open it?"
He looked at her then, something unreadable flickering across his face before he exhaled sharply.
"Not here."
That was all he said before turning on his heel and walking deeper into the estate, leaving Leona standing there, still unsure if she had just handed Valerio a message—or a warning.