By morning, Milan looked innocent again.
Sunlight spilled across stone streets, cafés opened, and elegant people walked dogs past buildings worth more than small countries.
Inside the penthouse suite, nothing felt innocent.
Anna sat at the dining table with coffee and Adrian's message pulled up on her tablet.
"He wants reaction," she said.
Oliver adjusted his watch near the window.
"He wants cracks."
"Same thing, if we let him."
His gaze shifted to her.
"You're adapting to family warfare quickly."
"I married into it accidentally."
"Nothing about you is accidental."
She ignored the inconvenient effect of that sentence.
"Adrian has surveillance, access, confidence, and patience," she said. "That means he believes he already controls the board."
Oliver walked over and looked at the screen.
"Or someone close to us."
Anna nodded.
"Then we stop hunting shadows and give the shadow somewhere bright to stand."
He studied her.
"You have a plan."
"I have instincts."
"Usually expensive."
"Worth it."
An hour later, a press notice went public.
Vale Global announces emergency leadership review of all European holdings. Temporary authority transfers to joint executive task force led by Oliver Walker and Anna Walker.
Every finance outlet in Europe picked it up within minutes.
Oliver ended a call and looked at her.
"You intentionally announced shared authority."
"Yes."
"You know Adrian wants control through divided leadership."
"Yes."
"You're baiting him."
"Yes."
A pause.
"I'm attracted to competence," he said.
Anna didn't look up from her laptop.
"Get in line."
By afternoon, reactions came fast.
Two board members demanded clarification.
Three subsidiaries requested legal review.
One anonymous source leaked that Oliver had "lost operational confidence."
Anna smiled when she read it.
"He's irritated."
Oliver took the tablet from her.
"You sound pleased."
"I am."
Then a secure message appeared on Oliver's private phone.
No number.
No metadata.
Only an address.
Galleria Vittoria. 7 PM. Come without security if you want the mole.
Anna looked up immediately.
"No."
Oliver's expression was unreadable.
"It may be real."
"It may be bait."
"It's both."
She stood.
"Then we go together."
He shook his head once.
"Too exposed."
"You agreed to terms."
"I also retain basic intelligence."
"You retain arrogance."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"I'm not risking you in an ambush."
Anna matched his tone.
"You don't get to define risk for me."
The tension sharpened.
Then softened unexpectedly when he exhaled.
"You are impossible."
"You chose me."
"Repeatedly."
"Then act like you learned something."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"Together."
Night wrapped Milan in gold and shadow.
The Galleria Vittoria was nearly empty, polished marble reflecting chandeliers overhead.
Luxury stores closed behind dark glass.
Too quiet.
Anna walked beside Oliver, heels clicking softly, both dressed like they belonged there.
Which made danger easier to hide.
"No guards?" she murmured.
"Nearby. Not visible."
"Good."
"You're calm."
"I'm angry."
"Ah," he said. "Your stable form."
She almost smiled.
They reached the center atrium.
A man in maintenance uniform pushed a cart nearby, head lowered.
Another couple crossed the far corridor.
Music drifted faintly from hidden speakers.
Then Anna noticed something first.
"No staff badges," she whispered.
Oliver's gaze sharpened instantly.
The maintenance man reached inside the cart.
Oliver grabbed Anna and pulled her behind a marble pillar just as a flashbang detonated.
Light exploded.
Sound crashed through the hall.
Shouts followed.
The "couple" drew weapons.
Oliver's hidden security surged from two directions.
Chaos erupted across polished marble.
Anna blinked through the ringing in her ears.
"You okay?" Oliver demanded.
"Yes."
"Stay here."
"No."
He gave her one look that promised future arguments.
Then moved.
Fast. Precise. Controlled violence without wasted motion.
He disarmed one attacker near the fountain while security tackled another.
Anna crouched, scanning.
Then saw a woman in heels calmly walking away during the chaos.
Too calm.
Too deliberate.
She wore a silk scarf and carried no panic.
Anna ran after her.
"Anna!" Oliver shouted behind her.
The woman turned down a side corridor.
Anna caught up just enough to grab the scarf.
It slipped free.
The woman spun—
Veronica.
Alive, elegant, smiling.
"You always were quicker than men expected," Veronica said.
Anna's pulse slammed.
"You should be in custody."
"I prefer invitations."
Footsteps thundered closer.
Veronica stepped backward toward a service door.
"Tell Adrian thank you for the rescue," Anna said sharply.
Veronica laughed.
"Oh, sweetheart. Adrian answers to someone too."
Then she disappeared through the door just as Oliver reached Anna.
"You ran toward danger."
"She was here."
"Who?"
Anna held up the scarf.
"Veronica."
Oliver went still.
Then: "What did she say?"
Anna met his eyes.
"That Adrian isn't at the top."
For the first time since Milan began, Oliver looked genuinely unsettled.
Because if Adrian served someone else—
Then the real war hadn't even introduced itself yet.