As the car drove away from the Matteo mansion, Lorenzo's mind raced.
"What the hell is she scheming? I don't know what her plan is, but even if Matteo finds out I've been working with her, that's still better than him finding out about that damn picture she took. All I have to do is play along for now. But the moment I get a chance to delete that picture, it's over. The second I do, I'll tell Matteo everything—every word Luna knows, everything she's been digging into. She knows about Jeff. She knows what he's been doing. She knows too much."
Lorenzo lowered the window, letting the cool breeze hit his face. He stared out at the trees rushing past, lost in thought.
If he had never met Matteo, what would his life have been?
Before Matteo, he was nothing but a low-level assassin, making barely $100 per kill. It was never enough. But when Matteo took him in, everything changed.
Even back when Matteo was just a pawn—an assassin for the bigger mafia families—he was already different. He had ambition. And when Lorenzo stuck by him, things started improving. First, he was making thousands, then millions. Now? Now he had made billions, all because of Matteo.
That was why he couldn't let any of this look like betrayal.
Luna, though—Matteo's wife—she was something else. She was always watching, always praying, always thinking.
"How do I fix this?" Lorenzo thought bitterly. "What do I do?"
Because one day, that picture might come to light.
One day, someone might see it.
One day, Matteo might see it.
And when that happens, Lorenzo is finished.
He still didn't know if Luna was serious about never showing Matteo. She claimed she wouldn't, but the way she had smiled—that wicked, twisted grin—he wasn't so sure.
"She's younger than me, yet she played me like a damn fool. I can't forgive that. I won't forgive that. That arrogance… that insolence…"
But for now, he had to stay focused.
He was Matteo's right-hand man.
And he needed to stay by his side—no matter what.
The limousine rolled to a stop in front of his mansion. Lorenzo stepped out, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Goddamn it!" Lorenzo muttered as he stepped into his mansion's compound.
Twenty guards stood in formation, bowing their heads as he walked past them. His footsteps were heavy, his mind clouded with rage.
As he entered the mansion,
"Linda!" Lorenzo barked.
His wife appeared almost immediately.
"I want you to do something for me. Go prepare my bed—I need to take a bath. And there's something I need to tell you later."
Linda nodded and turned to leave, but his patience was already razor-thin.
"Get going!" he snapped, and she hurried off.
Lorenzo ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling over.
"Maybe it's the way I treat my wife—that's why that woman thinks she can get cocky with me. My wife knows her place. That piece of shit, Luna? She doesn't have an ounce of respect."
With a sudden burst of fury, he slammed his fist into the wall. Again. And again.
Blood smeared against the surface. His knuckles throbbed, but he didn't stop.
A maid rushed forward, terrified. "Please stop, sir!" she pleaded.
Linda was passing by at that moment. She froze.
Without saying a word, she walked over, grabbed a bandage, and wrapped his bleeding hand. Lorenzo's breathing was ragged as he glared at her.
"I wish it was her face I was punching instead," he growled under his breath.
His mind was a storm of anger and humiliation. Luna had outplayed him. A mere woman. A woman had intimidated him.
It was unbearable.
"Linda has respect. Because I don't coddle her like Matteo does with Luna. That's the problem—Matteo spoils her. That's why she thinks she can act like this. That's why I will never treat my wife with kindness. A man has to be feared. That's why Linda knows her place."
Seething, he tore off his suit jacket and stormed up to his room.
Linda finished preparing the bed and stepped out as he entered. Lorenzo exhaled deeply, kneeling beside the mattress, his fists clenching. His entire body was tense.
Linda, watching from the hallway, frowned. Something was off.
"He always yells when he's angry, but today… he's different. He's too quiet. He's dangerous."
Then she noticed the bandage.
"Wait… he wasn't injured when he came back. What happened to his hand?"
She hesitated, then turned and walked downstairs. Spotting a maid, she asked, "Do you know what happened to Lorenzo's hand? It wasn't bandaged when he called me earlier."
The maid shook her head.
Linda called over another maid and asked again. This time, she got an answer.
"He was punching the wall, ma'am. He wouldn't stop. He was furious—I've never seen him like that before. I had to bandage his hand myself."
Linda nodded slowly. "Thank you. You can go."
She already knew her husband was part of the mafia. He never hid it from her, never cared whether she knew or not. Because to him, women had no value.
That was how he saw all women.
Until Luna.
She was the first woman who had ever dared to challenge him.
And he hated that.
Linda stood there in silence, piecing things together. Something about Luna had sent Lorenzo into a rage—so much so that he injured himself.
But she didn't ask any further questions.
Because she knew—when Lorenzo was like this, one wrong word could earn her a slap… or worse.
So she stayed quiet.
And hoped his anger would pass.