"The Don collapsed."
For a fraction of a second, Luca didn't move.
"When?" he demanded.
"Just now. They carried him to his bedchamber. Your mother is with him."
Luca's jaw tightened. "Call the doctor. Now."
"I already sent..."
"Call again," Luca cut in, already moving. "And make sure he understands this isn't a request."
Emilio nodded quickly. "Yes, boss."
Luca didn't wait for anything else. He was already striding out of the winery, his pace fast and unyielding, workers stepping aside instinctively as he passed. The calm authority he carried before had changed, this was something colder, urgent.
By the time he reached the villa, the atmosphere had changed.
The usual hum of life was gone, replaced by silence.
Heavy. Watching.
The kind that spread fast when something unthinkable happened.
The doors to his father's chamber were already open. Luca stepped inside without hesitation.
His mother sat at the edge of the bed, her hand wrapped tightly around the Don's pale hand. The old man looked… smaller somehow. Still powerful even in stillness, but diminished in a way Luca had never seen before.
"Luca," Elena said softly, her voice controlled but strained.
"I've called the doctor," Luca replied immediately, moving closer. His eyes scanned his father, his breathing, the stillness, the unnatural slackness in his features.
This wasn't how men like his father were supposed to look. Not weak, not fragile. Not human.
Footsteps sounded behind him, fast and uneven.
Marco.
"What the hell happened?" Marco demanded as he entered, his gaze darting straight to the bed.
No one answered immediately. Because no one knew.
The silence stretched again, thicker this time.
Outside the room, the villa held its breath.
The great Don, untouchable, almost invincible was lying still. Ill.
The word alone felt dangerous.
Minutes later, the doctor arrived, slightly out of breath but quick to move. He went straight to work, checking his pulse, blood pressure, eyes, asking short, clipped questions.
Luca stood still, watching every movement.
Finally, the doctor exhaled and straightened.
"It's his blood pressure," he said. "Dangerously high."
Elena's grip tightened around her husband's hand.
"He needs rest. No stress. No exertion. If he continues at this pace…" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It could be much worse next time."
Luca's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes hardened.
"Then there won't be a next time," he said quietly.
The doctor nodded quickly, sensing the weight behind the words. "I'll leave medication. And I'll return to monitor him."
Marco scoffed lightly under his breath, but said nothing.
—
Later, inside his room, Marco lighted a cigar and pulled out his phone.
His expression shifted completely. Cold and calculating.
"It's happening," he said into the phone, his voice low. "The old man is finally breaking."
A pause.
Then a faint smirk.
"I can't wait much longer. Once he's gone, everything falls into place."
He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
"And Luca?" he added softly. "I'll finally put him where he belongs."
Another pause.
"Don't worry," he said. "I haven't forgotten the plan."
He ended the call, his smirk lingering.
—
Back in the hallway, Luca walked beside his mother in silence.
Elena hadn't let go of her composure, but Luca knew her well enough to see the cracks beneath it.
"He'll recover," Luca said.
"He must," she replied quietly.
They walked a few more steps before she spoke again.
"How is Chiara?"
Luca's gaze flickered slightly. "She's resting."
Elena stopped walking.
"I heard what Isabella did."
Luca's expression darkened immediately.
"She won't touch her again," he said.
"That's not enough," Elena replied, turning to face him fully. "You must protect her. Completely."
"I will."
"And Luca," she added, her voice lowering slightly, "you cannot lose control. That's exactly what they want."
He held her gaze for a moment.
"I know."
She studied him, then nodded once.
"Good."
—
Later, Luca found Emilio waiting where he had left him.
"From now on," Luca said without preamble, "you stay with Chiara."
Emilio blinked. "Boss, I..."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
A pause.
Then Emilio nodded. "Understood."
—
When Luca entered the room, Chiara was reclining on the sofa and holding a book.
She looked up immediately. And noticed it.
The tension and exhaustion written all over him.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
Luca exhaled once, running a hand through his hair.
"My father collapsed."
Her expression tensed instantly. "Is he..."
"He'll live," Luca said. "For now."
She nodded slowly, though the worry didn't leave her eyes.
"This changes things, doesn't it?"
"It was always going to," he replied.
A brief silence passed.
Luca he asked, "how's your arm"?
"I feel better now." She answered with a smile.
Then he noticed the faint scent in the room.
Something warm and relaxing.
"What's that scent ?" he asked, glancing toward the adjoining room.
Chiara smiled. "I prepared a bath for you."
His brow furrowed slightly. "Why would you do it yourself? There are servants."
"I wanted to," she said simply.
She stood and stepped closer. "And I asked them to let me."
Her hand found his, soft and intentional.
Luca stilled. His heartbeat became faster, heavier.
Their eyes met and held.
The air between them changed again. That same tension. That same pull, stronger now.
Luca felt it building, the instinct to close the distance, to give in, to stop thinking for once. But he hesitated, always that hesitation.
Then Chiara moved first, without any warning, she rose slightly on her toes and placed her lips on his own, soft and uncertain.
Luca froze. Just for a second.
Then something in him snapped. His hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back, deeper this time, firmer, the restraint he had been holding onto slipping fast. Suddenly, it wasn't gentle anymore, it was hungry. Raw.
Everything unspoken finally finding its way out.
Chiara didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned into him more. The kiss deepened, intensified, turned almost desperate until suddenly, Luca broke away.
Like he had been burned, he stepped back quickly, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling sharply.
His eyes were darker now.
He ran a hand through his hair, turning away, putting distance between them as though it was the only thing keeping him in control.
Chiara stood there, equally breathless, still wanting more.
"Luca…" she whispered.
But he shook his head slightly, his voice rough when he spoke.
"This" he stopped, exhaling sharply. "This isn't how it should happen."
The room fell quiet again.
"Then how should it happen?" She asked, clearly agitated.
"You're vulnerable, and taking advantage of you at this time is not what I would do." He replied, turning away from her.
"But Luca," she took a step toward him, but he moved back immediately. She bit her lips and stepped back.
"This doesn't mean you're taking advantage of me, if anything, I feel safe with you." She said.
But Luca didn't seem to be listening. "Chiara, I need to be somewhere now, I'll see you later."
He turned and walked towards the door.
The door closed behind him with more force than he intended.
Luca didn't stop walking.
The corridors blurred past him, his steps quick, controlled, but beneath that control was something dangerously close to unraveling.
He needed air and distance from her.
The orchard.
He hadn't been there in years, not like this. But his feet knew the path without thought.
The moment he stepped beneath the canopy of trees, the world calmed. The villa's suffocating silence gave way to something quieter and steadier. The faint rustle of leaves, the scent of earth and fruit, the soft whisper of wind brushing past branches heavy with ripening harvest.
This was where he used to come as a boy.
When the hunts began. When his father would ride out into the woods with Marco at his side, laughing and leaving Luca behind.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair as he leaned against the rough bark of an old tree.
He could still remember it clearly, the sting of it. The quiet way he would slip away, unnoticed, and come here. Sit and wait. Pretend it didn't matter. But it always had. His jaw tightened.
And then his thoughts drifted back to her, uncontrollable.
The memory of her lips, soft, warm, yielding, hit him all at once. His fingers curled slightly against the tree. The way she had leaned into him.
The way her body had responded to his touch so naturally, so openly. Like she trusted him.
A sharp exhale left him.
"That's the problem," he muttered under his breath.
He was supposed to protect her.
Not… lose himself like that.
Not take advantage of the way she looked at him like he was the only thing in the room that mattered.
Because if she truly knew him, everything he had done, everything his hands had been forced to become, Would she still look at him that way?
The thought settled heavy in his chest.
Before he could push it away, his phone vibrated.
Luca pulled it out, his eyes narrowing slightly at the message.
Tonight.
No name.
His expression hardened instantly.
"Of course," he murmured.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and pushed away from the tree. The calm of the orchard no longer touched him.
The night was already beginning.
—
The underground hall was dimly lit, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of oil and steel.
A dozen men stood scattered across the space, waiting.
Low murmurs moved between them, quiet but restless.
Then the doors opened.
Marco entered first, two men at his side. The whispers quieted a little but a few voices still lingered in the corners.
Marco's gaze snapped toward them, sharp and warning.
The room quieted further.
Minutes passed.
The doors opened again and Luca stepped in, closely followed by Emilio.
Every whisper and movement stopped immediately. Silence fell like something physical, heavy, absolute.
Luca walked to the center of the room, his presence alone enough to command every eye. His gaze swept across the men once. Measured and assessing. Then he spoke.
"We have an operation tonight."
His voice was calm and even. But it carried effortlessly through the space.
Every man listened.
"There's a meeting scheduled," he continued. "One that has been in negotiation for months."
A brief pause.
"Don Dante Morello. Based in Livorno."
A few of the men exchanged subtle glances at the name. They knew it. Everyone did.
A drug lord with reach stretching across ports and cities, ruthless, unpredictable, powerful.
"This isn't just a transaction," Luca went on. "It's an alignment. If it goes well, we secure access to routes we've been locked out of for years."
"And if it doesn't?" one of the men asked carefully.
Luca's gaze shifted to him.
Cold and steady.
"Then we make sure we're the only ones who walk away from it."
Silence followed.
Marco leaned slightly against a nearby table, arms crossed, watching Luca with an unreadable expression.
Luca didn't look at him. Not once.
"You'll move in two units," Luca continued. "Outer perimeter and inner circle. No mistakes. No improvisation unless I give the order."
His tone hardened just slightly.
"Morello doesn't tolerate weakness. And neither do I."
There's a pause. "We leave at midnight."
The men straightened almost imperceptibly.
Ready. Focused.
Luca let the silence sit for a moment longer before adding quietly, "Prepare yourselves."
Everyone in the room knew that tonight wasn't just business, it was a test.
Evening settled over the villa like a slow, heavy curtain. Candles had been lit. The halls glowed in soft gold.
Chiara sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers loosely clasped in her lap, her gaze drifting, again to the clock.
Too much time had passed and Luca hasn't come back. Restlessness pressed against her chest, making it hard to sit still.
A soft knock came at the door before it opened gently.
Two maids stepped in, their expressions warm and respectful.
"Signora," one of them said with a small bow, "your bath has been prepared."
Chiara nodded absently, then hesitated.
"Have you seen Luca?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
The two women exchanged a brief glance.
"No, Signora," the other replied gently. "We have not."
The worry on Chiara's face must have been more obvious than she thought, because the first maid stepped closer, her tone softening.
"He will return," she said kindly. "You should not trouble yourself too much."
Chiara forced a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you."
She allowed them to guide her toward the bath.
The warm water should have relaxed her.
Usually, it did. But tonight, her mind refused to settle. Every thought circled back to him. To the way he had looked before he left. To the way he had pulled away from her. Her chest tightened slightly at the memory.
When she finally stepped out, the maids were ready.
They moved around her with quiet efficiency drying her hair, helping her into a soft nightdress, brushing out the damp strands until they fell smoothly down her back.
Chiara watched them for a moment.
"You've been kind to me," she said softly. "What are your names?"
The first maid smiled. "Amanda, Signora."
"And I am Sofia," the other added with a small nod.
Chiara returned the smile, faint but genuine. "Thank you, Amanda, Sofia."
They inclined their heads politely.
Her gaze drifted again toward the clock.
Still nothing.
Amanda noticed. "You don't seem inclined to dine in the grand hall tonight," she said gently.
Chiara shook her head.
"No."
"Then we will bring your dinner here," Sofia added. "It will be more comfortable."
Chiara exhaled softly. "I'd appreciate that."
They left the room, and the silence returned almost immediately. Heavier now.
Chiara stood still for a moment. Then she started pacing.
Her thoughts refused to settle. Where could he be?
Why hadn't he come back?
Was he avoiding her? Because of what happened earlier?
Her chest tightened again at the thought.
"No…" she murmured under her breath, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it.
A knock broke through her spiraling thoughts.
The maids returned, carrying a tray.
They moved quickly, setting the small dining table with careful precision, plates, cutleries, a steaming dish, and a delicate cup beside it.
"Please," Amanda said gently, gesturing. "You should eat."
Chiara walked over slowly, her movements lacking their usual certainty.
"I'm not very hungry," she admitted.
Sofia offered a small, understanding smile. "At least have some tea."
She gestured to the cup.
"Green tea. It will calm your nerves and help you rest."
Chiara looked down at it, then nodded faintly. "Thank you."
They stepped back.
"Is there anything else you need, Signora?" Amanda asked.
Chiara shook her head. "No, thank you. Really."
They bowed slightly before leaving, the door closing softly behind them.
Chiara sat down slowly.
She picked up the spoon and stirred the tea absentmindedly, watching the faint swirl of steam rise into the air.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Her eyes flicked to the clock again, still no sign of him.
Her grip on the spoon tightened slightly. A thought slipped into her mind. Sudden and clear.
She set the spoon down and without thinking further, she stood and reached for a shawl, pulled it around her shoulders and walked straight for the door.
Whatever was keeping Luca away, she was going to find out.
The night air was colder than she expected.
It wrapped around Chiara the moment she stepped outside, sharp and sudden, pulling a small shiver from her. She drew the shawl tighter around her shoulders, holding it close as though it could steady the unease already stirring inside her.
The villa behind her glowed faintly with candlelight.
Ahead, darkness stretched.
She didn't hesitate, her feet carried her toward the winery.
The path was quiet, the gravel crunching softly beneath her steps. The further she went, the more the silence deepened, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the faint hum of night insects.
Her heart was beating faster, not entirely from the cold.
She had no real plan. Just a need to find him.
She had gone further than she realized when she heard it.
A sound. Voices. Low and close.
Chiara froze.
Every instinct in her body went rigid at once. The sound was coming from ahead. Too close.
Her breath caught as fear surged through her chest.
Run.
The thought came immediately. But her dress was too long. She wouldn't make it far if they saw her. Her eyes darted quickly, searching. Then she saw a pillar.
She moved fast, slipping behind it just as shadows moved ahead.
Her breathing turned shallow, quick. Then she saw them.
Men.
A group of them.
Emerging from what looked like an underground entrance, hidden, concealed beneath the estate like something not meant to be seen.
They were dressed in black. Every one of them.
Their movements were controlled and dangerous.
Chiara pressed herself further against the pillar, her fingers clutching her shawl tightly as she tried to steady her breathing.
Who were they?
Her eyes strained in the dim light, searching. And suddenly someone walked out.
Luca.
She saw him immediately.
Everything else faded for a moment.
He stepped out alongside Emilio, his presence unmistakable.
But he looked different. Not the man she had been waiting for.
Not the one who had stood in front of her just hours ago.
This Luca was… colder. His posture rigid, his expression set in something unreadable and severe. His eyes sharp, distant, dangerous.
Chiara's breath hitched.
She watched him speak briefly with Emilio, too far for her to hear.
Then Emilio nodded and turned, walking straight toward the villa. Toward their room.
Chiara tensed instantly.
If he went inside, If he didn't find her...
Her grip tightened. She couldn't move.
Not yet.
She watched as Luca turned away from Emilio and headed back toward the group.
She was about to pull back, to leave quietly when another figure stepped forward into the dim light.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Recognition hit almost immediately.
Marco.
A cold feeling slid through her chest. What was he doing there? With them?
Her thoughts raced. Too fast. Too many.
What were they planning? Why hadn't Luca told her anything?
Marco's head turned slowly around and suddenly paused in her direction.
Chiara gasped silently, one hand flying to her mouth, the other pressing tightly against her chest as she shrank further behind the pillar.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it could be heard.
Don't see me, don't see me, don't...
Then she saw a faint smile curve on Marco's lips.
Slow. Eerie. Before he turned and walked toward the others.
Chiara didn't move immediately, she waited until the sounds faded and the space emptied.
Only then did she exhale, slow, shaky, like she had been holding her breath the entire time.
Her body felt lighter.
But her mind felt heavier, unsettled. She has so many questions.
Luca…
The image of him from moments ago lingered. That look in his eyes. That distance. That darkness.
It didn't match the man who had held her, who had kissed her.
It felt like two completely different people. Her chest tightened again.
She turned slowly and began walking back toward the villa.
This time, her steps were quieter. More careful.
Her thoughts louder.
When she reached their chamber, she stopped.
Emilio stood at the entrance.
Her breath caught slightly.
For a brief second, she considered turning back, finding another way in. But there wasn't one, not without drawing more attention.
So she forced herself forward. Step by step.
As she approached, Emilio turned, and froze. Shock flashed across his face instantly.
Chiara smiled. Soft and harmless.
"I just needed some fresh air," she said lightly. "I felt a little restless."
Emilio stared at her for a moment longer than necessary, clearly unsettled.
Then he exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck.
"Signora… please," he said, his voice lower now. "Don't leave like that again."
There was something real in his tone. Something tense.
"If anything happens to you…" he shook his head slightly. "I lose my head."
Chiara forced another small smile.
"I understand."
She stepped closer, about to pass him, but stopped.
"Emilio," she said softly.
He looked at her.
"Do you know where Luca is?"
He hesitated, just for a second.
But she saw it.
"He… had to step out," Emilio replied carefully. "An errand."
Her eyes searched his face.
"Will he be back tonight?"
Another pause.
"I don't think so."
The words landed heavier than she expected.
"But he'll be fine," Emilio added quickly. "You don't need to worry."
Chiara nodded slowly.
Even though the unease in her chest only grew.
"Thank you."
She stepped past him and into the chamber. The door closed behind her and the silence returned.
She walked straight to the bedroom and sat close to the window, she was determined to wait for Luca to return and answer all her questions, even if it meant being awake till the morning.