The flight back to Italy was much more peaceful than the flight to Paris. Marco sat on the private plane with his arm in a sling and a bandage on his ribs. He was in pain, but he didn't care. Eimi was sitting right next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand was locked in his, and she didn't want to let go.
The sun was shining through the plane window, lighting up the emerald ring on Eimi's finger. It wasn't a "contract" ring anymore. It was a symbol of their real love.
"Marco," Eimi said softly, looking up at him. "We can't go back to how we were. No more secrets. No more acting."
Marco looked down at her and nodded. His eyes were soft. "I agree, Eimi. I am tired of the masks. I am tired of the lies. From this moment, we tell each other everything. If I am worried, I will tell you. If I am going somewhere, I will tell you. No more hiding."
Eimi smiled, a real and happy smile. "And I will tell you everything too. Even if it's something small. We are a team now. Not just a husband and a wife on a piece of paper."
When they arrived back at the villa in Lake Como, the atmosphere felt different. The house didn't feel like a cold museum anymore; it felt like a home.
For the next few weeks, Marco and Eimi lived a very happy life. They ate breakfast together on the balcony every morning. Marco started painting again in his secret studio, and this time, he let Eimi watch him. He even painted a portrait of her in her favorite white coat.
Eimi spent her afternoons writing her stories. She wasn't afraid of what Marco would think anymore. In fact, Marco was her biggest fan. He would sit with her and listen as she read her chapters out loud.
"You are a great writer, Agatha," he would say, using her pen name. "The world needs to read your stories."
They were truly happy. There were no kidnappers, no jealous models, and no cold grandfathers. It was just Marco and Eimi, living the life they had always dreamed of.
One evening, while they were having dinner, Marco's phone rang. It was his grandfather, Lorenzo. Marco's face became a little serious, but he remembered his promise to Eimi. He put the phone on speaker so she could hear.
"Marco," the old man's voice was sharp. "We have a massive meeting in Paris. The French board members are unhappy about the trouble last month. We need to go there and fix it. It will only be for two days. We leave tomorrow morning."
Marco looked at Eimi. He didn't want to leave her, especially not after what happened in Paris last time. But he knew he had to go to protect the family business.
"I have to go, Eimi," Marco said after he hung up. "But only for 48 hours. My grandfather will be with me the whole time. We will stay in the most secure hotel in the city. I will have twenty guards with me."
Eimi felt a small shiver of fear, but she trusted him. "I know you have to go. Just promise me you will call me every hour. I want to know where you are and who you are with."
"I promise," Marco said, leaning in to kiss her softly. "I will tell you everything. I'll send you photos of the boring meetings. I'll tell you what I'm eating for lunch. No secrets."
The next morning, the black cars arrived at the villa. Lorenzo was already in the back seat of the lead car, looking impatient. Marco hugged Eimi tightly at the front door.
"Two days," Marco whispered. "I'll be back before you even miss me."
"I already miss you," Eimi replied, holding onto his jacket.
Marco stepped into the car and waved as it drove away. Eimi stood on the steps of the villa until the car disappeared. She felt a strange feeling in her stomach—not quite fear, but a strange nervousness. She shook it off, telling herself it was just because she loved him so much.
The first day was fine. Marco called her exactly as he promised. He sent her a photo of the Eiffel Tower from his hotel window. He told her about the long, boring speeches the businessmen were making. They talked on the phone for an hour before Eimi went to sleep.
But on the second day, everything changed.
Eimi was sitting in the garden, waiting for Marco's morning call. 8:00 AM passed. Then 9:00 AM. Then 10:00 AM. Her phone remained silent. She tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail.
She called his lead security guard. No answer.
She called his grandfather's assistant. No answer.
Suddenly, the news on the television inside the villa started blaring. Eimi ran inside, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Breaking news from Paris," the reporter said. "A massive explosion has occurred at the Moretti International headquarters. Several people are reported missing. The police have cordoned off the area..."
The screen showed a building covered in smoke and fire. Eimi felt the world spin around her. Her phone suddenly buzzed in her hand. It wasn't a call. It was a message from an unknown number.
It was a photo of Marco's silver watch, lying on a floor covered in blood.
Under the photo, there was a short message: "The debt is not paid yet."
Eimi fell to her knees, the phone slipping from her fingers. The happy life they had built for the last few weeks was gone in a single second. Marco had promised no more secrets, but he was gone, and Eimi was alone in the big villa.
Her life was about to change forever. She wasn't just a writer or a "contract wife" anymore. She had to become someone stronger if she wanted to find the man she loved.