Adrian POV
The villa was a warzone. Smoke curled through the broken windows, and the smell of gunpowder burned my nose. Guests lay sprawled on the marble floor, some screaming, some frozen in shock. Blood soaked the white roses that had decorated the aisle, petals clinging to the crimson like some cruel work of art.
I held Isabella close, my hands pressed against her shaking shoulders. "Stay down! Keep your head low!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. My mind raced, trying to find the attackers, trying to understand what had happened. But all I could see was the man I had loved like a king—my father—falling to the floor, his chest riddled with bullets.
Luca was beside me, gun raised, eyes scanning every shadow. "Adrian, we need to move! Now!"
I shook my head. "Not without him!"
"Your father's gone!" Luca snapped. "We can't save him! Move!"
I gritted my teeth, panic and grief twisting in my chest. "No… not him. I can't…"
But it was too late. Vittorio Moretti's last words had barely left his lips. "Someone… close…" he whispered, his eyes wide with warning before going still.
I felt a hollow ache in my chest. Close? Who could betray us? Who would dare?
---
Isabella POV
I felt Adrian's arms tighten around me, strong and protective. The chaos around us was blinding, but his presence was the only thing grounding me. Guests screamed, people ran, and I had to pretend I was terrified like everyone else.
I was terrified—but not for the same reasons Adrian thought.
Adrian's grief was real. I could see it in his trembling hands, in the way his jaw clenched so tightly it could crack. I allowed myself a small, silent glance at him, knowing he trusted me completely. He had no idea that some of my thoughts weren't innocent.
I wanted him to believe I was frightened, that I was fragile. It made it easier to manipulate him.
"Adrian…" I whispered, voice trembling. "We need to get out of here."
He shook his head, refusing to let go of the floor where his father had fallen. "No. Not yet. Not until I see…"
"Please," I said softly, touching his arm. "We'll find safety. You can't do anything here."
He hesitated, torn between loyalty to his father and the need to protect me.
---
Adrian POV
Finally, I relented, dragging Isabella behind a broken table. My suit was soaked—her blood, mine, I didn't know. My hands were shaking, adrenaline fueling my rage.
I scanned the room, trying to find the shooters. Professionals. Clean, efficient. No mistakes. The way they had moved, the precision of the shots… this wasn't random.
"Who would do this?" I muttered, mostly to myself.
Luca's voice was low and urgent. "Someone close. Think, Adrian! Whoever did this knows exactly how to hurt you."
I felt a surge of anger so intense it burned. "They'll pay. Every last one of them."
---
Isabella POV
I followed him silently, letting him believe he still had control. I kept my fear visible, my hands trembling, my eyes wide. Inside, I was calculating. The chaos had given me an opportunity, and I would use it.
I stayed close, my lips parted as if I might cry. He was so devoted, so angry, so easily led by his emotions. It was intoxicating, seeing him like this.
---
Adrian POV
The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had started. Silence fell over the villa, broken only by cries of pain and horror. Smoke hung in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood.
I forced myself to move toward my father. His body was pale, cold, lifeless. My chest felt hollow, my stomach twisting. I gritted my teeth and pushed down the urge to scream. There would be time for that later. First, revenge.
"Luca… get the survivors out. Protect them," I ordered.
Luca nodded, pulling people toward the villa exit. I stayed with Isabella, feeling her weight against me. I still believed she needed protection. I still believed she was mine.
---
Isabella POV
I followed Adrian obediently, letting him pull me forward. He had no idea that I was hiding the truth, that my own plans were tied to this massacre in ways he couldn't imagine. The grief on his face made me feel… something. Guilt? Maybe. But it was fleeting.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, whispering, "We have to stay calm."
He nodded, eyes scanning the smoke-filled room. "Calm won't save anyone. Not now."
I kept silent, letting him believe his rage fueled him.
---
Adrian POV
By the time the police arrived, the attackers were gone. Vanished. No signs of where they had come from. Professionals. My heart pounded with fury. They had taken my father, my protector, my guide.
The police glanced around nervously. One whispered something about the Moretti family and fear. Fear was right. Even law enforcement knew better than to challenge us.
I clenched my fists. "They killed my father. They think they can get away with this."
"They won't," Luca said grimly. "Not if we find them first."
I looked at Isabella. She stood beside me, pale, shaking, but her eyes… there was a flicker. Just a flicker of something I couldn't read. But I chose to ignore it. She was mine. She would always be mine.
Isabella POV
I let Adrian focus on his rage, letting him believe that I shared every ounce of it. I even allowed my lips to tremble as if I were crying. Let him lean on me, trust me, believe I was loyal.
It was easy to hide my true thoughts when everyone around us was screaming, bleeding, dying. Easy to let him think I mourned.
But inside, I was planning. Watching. Waiting. The events of this day were far from over. And soon, Adrian would discover that trust was a dangerous thing…
Adrian POV
By evening, we were back at the villa, the survivors quiet, frightened. Guards patrolled, checking every corner. I sat in the study, trying to make sense of it all.
Vittorio's words echoed in my mind. "Someone… close…"
I stared at the marble floors, the blood-stained petals, the ruined roses. The man I had loved like a king was gone. And the boy I had been—naive, hopeful—was dead too.
I clenched my fists. My voice low, bitter. "They killed my father. Now they will taste hell."
I didn't care who it was. Family, friend, enemy—doesn't matter. Justice would come. And it would be brutal.
Isabella POV
I stayed near him, letting him think I was broken, devastated. Letting him lean on me, trust me. Because trust was a weapon, and I was learning how to wield it.
Adrian's anger, his grief, his need for revenge… it made him predictable. Dangerous, yes, but predictable.
I pressed my hand to my chest, hiding the small thrill that ran through me. Today, he had lost his father. Tomorrow… he would start to lose everything else he thought he could control.
And I would be there, smiling, guiding, making sure the path led exactly where I wanted it to.
---
The funeral would come tomorrow. The villa would be quiet. But in the shadows, plans were forming, whispers growing. Adrian Moretti's world had just begun to crumble. And I would be at the center of it all.
"They killed my father. Now they will taste hell," I whispered to myself again, letting the words sink in.