Three years ago…
Narrator
Sebastian was indulging in one of his favorite indoor distractions — the shooting range. That was where he went whenever his temper threatened to boil over, and tonight, it was already past the simmer.
When Sebastian was angry — truly angry — it wasn't enough to shout, slam doors, or brood in silence. No, he needed to destroy something. To watch crimson spill. That was what calmed him. What soothed him.
Everyone around him knew the signs. When he got into one of these moods, they kept their distance, avoided provoking him, and waited for the storm to pass.
Right now, the Colt M1911 was an extension of his arm. He fired round after round, emptying magazine after magazine into his targets until the smell of gunpowder thickened the air.
Veins pulsed at his temples, his jaw locked tight. The paper silhouettes he'd been targeting were shredded and splattered with red paint — an imitation of the blood he wished he was drawing.
Still, it wasn't enough.
Killing — real killing — was what thrilled him.
"Boss, sometimes I think you're King Von reincarnated," Bruce remarked from his usual spot against the wall.
Bruce was the only one in Sebastian's household who dared to talk to him like that, even in this mood.
Sebastian's lip curled. "These idiots need to resurrect so I can shoot them again. I need more blood, Bruce."
"That was the last of the thousand practice packs," Bruce replied, folding his arms. "Or… you could just admit you're sorry to Ms. Barros."
"Fuck!" Sebastian hurled the gun onto the table and raked his fingers through his dark hair. "She's a virus."
"It's been two weeks since you fired her," Bruce reminded him. "You should apologize. You're the one suffering — not her."
"You know I can't do that." Sebastian's tone was almost petulant. "I'm not lowering myself to the level of apologizing. It would ruin my status."
Bruce shook his head. "It's not about status. It's about pride. You're afraid because you think apologizing makes you weak. But Ms. Barros? She's just a woman — a good one. If you admitted you were wrong, she'd listen."
Sebastian exhaled, the fight bleeding from his voice. "It's too late. She started saying things — things I don't even know where she heard — and I lost it. I almost hit her, Bruce. Instead, I fired her. I didn't even realize she was the one who made those herbal medicines for me when insomnia was eating me alive."
"She was," Bruce confirmed. "She had a reason for what she did, I'm sure. When I called her that day, she was expecting you to come by in the evening… until I told her what happened."
Sebastian nodded slowly.
At that moment, a man in all black and dark shades entered. "Boss, what should we do with him?"
Sebastian didn't even look. Lighting a cigarette, he murmured, "Kill him."
The man nodded and left without a word.
"Should I call Boss Antoni?" Bruce asked carefully.
Sebastian waved him off. "No need. I'll handle it."
"The longer you delay, the smaller the chance you'll have."
Sebastian's eyes dimmed, smoke curling from his lips. "I know."
********
Elizabeth
"I want you to resign from that company."
"Who the hell are you to tell me that?" Bianca snapped. "My mother? My uncle or what?"
"I am someone who cares about you, Bianca. And I stand in the position to kick you out of that company since you're stubborn."
"Now I get it!" She shot up from the couch, tossing her crutches aside. "You're the one who asked my boss to fire me!"
He stood abruptly, his voice sharp. "It's barely one week since you had an accident, and you're already roaming around the bustling city with crutches — why wouldn't I ask him to?"
"And how is my life your business, Mr. Antoni Jan Mikolaj Jakub?" Bianca's tone was pure venom. "You're not the owner of my life, but you act like I have to beg you for oxygen before I can breathe! What is your problem!?"
"My problem is you, Bianca. You're just too stubborn to listen to me, and you refuse to accept my offers."
"I told you before and I'll keep repeating it: I don't want anything from you. I don't need it — not even a drop of water from you — nor your fucking advice. They're useless, just like you!"
"You're just too headstrong!"
"And you're a madman, Antoni. I don't know why you keep prying into my life. You just want me miserable. Now look — the only source of my greener pasture is gone. That job was all I had. After I resigned from your fucking company, it took me two years to get this one, and now you've threatened my boss to throw me out. You're heartless."
Bianca's voice broke, and she sank into the couch, burying her face in her palms.
Her so-called ex-boss, who wouldn't let her breathe, sat beside her, lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm doing whatever I'm doing because I care about you. Sorry if I didn't bring myself down to say it ever since. But it's the truth."
"You're just talking trash, Antoni. You can't stop me from chasing my dreams." Her words shook with tears.
"Hey…" He cupped her small face in his palms, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her chin. "I'm not stopping you from chasing your dreams — God forbid I do such a thing. I'm not that bad."
"But you did," she pouted. "You asked my boss to kick me out."
"Yes, I did." He nodded, locking his gaze on her blue eyes. "And I'm sorry. I did it because I don't like seeing you working for other people when I'm here to help you become the boss of yourself."
She dropped her gaze to her fingers. "I don't know what you're insinuating, Antoni. But I'm sure you better be making sense."
"Shh…" He pressed a finger to her lips — and then, to my disbelief, kissed my friend Bianca.
In my presence? And Natasha's?
Geez. This guy has no shame. In fact, neither of them does.
Okay, let me give you the real gist. Let's rewind to how this whole drama started in our house today.
As you all know, I'm currently jobless — well, not exactly. I still have my fashion designing talent to put food on the table, but as for working out there professionally? Done.
Sharon wouldn't pick my calls. Neither would Sebastian. I lost two jobs in one day.
I know what you might be thinking — maybe I'm cursed. But I'm not cursed. I'm blessed. With my skills and the little knowledge I've built into them, I know I'm going somewhere someday.
So, I was in our sitting room — in my usual corner where my sewing machines live — busy cutting fresh patterns for new dresses when Bianca's ex-boss, Antoni, barged in. He went straight for her, barking the moment he stepped inside.
Bianca had come home about an hour earlier, wearing that defeated look you can't miss. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but seeing how drained she looked, I kept my mouth shut.
It wasn't until Antoni started throwing tantrums about how she was roaming around the city on crutches that I realized where this was going.
Natasha, on the other hand, didn't step in like she usually would. She was pacing like a caged cat, glued to her phone in some two-hour conversation that sounded… professional. Maybe business.
Meanwhile, the noise in the sitting room was turning into something between a market square and a disco house.
I didn't interfere either. I had my deadlines — dresses to finish before the day ended. My focus was on the fabric, scissors moving in steady rhythm.
My back was turned to them. I didn't hear the door open. Didn't hear footsteps. Didn't even register that a third party had entered.
Then suddenly — someone tickled me from behind.
"Jesus!" I jolted, my scissors slipping from my hand. I spun around — and there he was.
The last person I expected to see.
I snatched up my scissors. "What are you doing here?"
Sebastian grinned like I'd just given him a good laugh. I wasn't smiling.
Seriously — what was he doing here? And how did he even know what floor I lived on?
"I'm here to see you," he said, perching on the armrest of the couch.
"Look, if you're here to beg me or rehire me, my answer is no." I gave him my best warning glare.
His eyes wandered to the fabric I was cutting. "Actually, I'm not here to rehire you."
"Then what are you here for? I don't want long stories. Go straight to the point."
"Okay, I just…" He scratched his head. "I just want to apologize about the other time. I shouldn't have reacted that way — to the point of firing you."
I paused mid-cut, letting my gaze travel up and down his outfit — black crisp shirt with the top two buttons undone, a tattoo peeking from his neck; black chinos; polished Louis Vuitton shoes; a black Rolex glinting on his wrist.
Never mind.
Not interested.
He was still watching me, waiting for a response.
"I forgive you. You can leave now." My tone was flat.
"Just like that?" He frowned.
I lifted my eyes briefly. "Uh-huh?"
"But… something tells me you haven't forgiven me from your heart."
"Sebastian, my heart is not transparent for you to see what's inside." I kept my gaze locked. "So, please get out. I'm busy and I don't like disturbance."
"You still hate me," he said, voice low, almost pleading. "Your harsh words make me believe I can never earn your forgiveness."
Of course you can't. Not in this life. Not even in the next.
"Sebastian, please get out of my house. You're making me lose concentration. I have fifteen dresses, seven shoes, and eight bags to finish. I have no time for your drama this afternoon."
He hesitated, studying my face. I looked away.
"Elizabeth, look at me. Stop hiding your eyes whenever I'm trying to see the truth."
What truth?
I know my weakness — his eyes. Whenever I look into them, something strange happens to me.
"There's absolutely nothing in my gray eyes, Sebastian. I don't know what you think you put there that you want to see. Just leave." My teeth were clenched.
"Then look into my eyes and tell me you've forgiven me, and I'll leave quietly," he said, voice calm and low.
My God — is this man insane?
I kept cutting fabric, ignoring him.
"Fine," he said after a beat. "I'll stay here and wait for you to finish whatever you're doing, so you can show me how much you've forgiven me."
What?
I looked up at him. Has he lost his mind?
Before I could say a word, Antoni cut in. "When the hell did you get here, man?"
I turned toward him and realized he was talking to Sebastian.
"You two know each other?" Bianca and I asked at the same time.
"Yes, we're cousins," Sebastian and Antoni replied in unison.
"And mates," Antoni added before turning back to Bianca.
Natasha paused mid-pace to eavesdrop, phone still pressed to her ear, then resumed her call.
Sebastian and Antoni switched to Polish. Bianca probably caught more of it than I did — she understands a bit of the language.
I was lost, so I used the opportunity to keep working.
Then they switched again — this time to Italian.
Now Bianca looked lost too. She buried herself in her phone.
I figured they'd switched languages because they'd noticed Bianca eavesdropping.
They spoke so smoothly, it was like Italian was their native tongue. I wondered how many more languages they could speak.
"Antoni, se sai che stai tenendo questa donna, devi nasconderla ai Lions nell'organizzazione." (Antoni, if you know you're keeping this woman, you have to hide her from the Lions in the organization.)
"Lo so, quindi teniamolo segreto tra noi." (I know, so let's keep it a secret between us.) Antoni glanced at me. "Chi è lei per te?" (Who is she to you?)
Sebastian's gaze lingered on me for a beat before he replied, "Lei è il mio segreto per ora." (She's a secret.)
"¿Lei lo sa?" (Does she know?) Antoni asked.
Their words felt like they'd shifted squarely onto me. My stomach tightened.
"No," Sebastian said, nodding once.