The room echoed with the dull, brutal rhythm of impact-fist against leather, over and over again-each punch heavier than the last, as if Donato was trying to break something far deeper than the punching bag hanging before him. Sweat dripped from his forehead, sliding down his jaw, soaking into the collar of his shirt, his breathing uneven and harsh.

Only a single dim light burned above, casting sharp shadows across his face, turning his expression into something raw, something dangerous. But beneath that anger... there was confusion. Frustration. Hurt.

Her face kept flashing in his mind. Her silence. Her eyes avoiding him. And then-That push. His jaw clenched as another punch landed, harder this time. The door creaked open, and suddenly the room flooded with light. Donato stilled for half a second before irritation snapped through him.

"Who the hell-" he turned sharply, voice rough, ready to lash out-And stopped.

Enzo.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, a slow smirk playing on his lips like he had just walked into a show he had been expecting. "Miss me, darling?" he drawled.

Donato exhaled sharply, turning away, already throwing another punch at the bag. "I'm not in the mood, Enzo. Leave."

Enzo walked in anyway. "Unfortunately," he said lazily, dropping himself onto the sofa like he owned the place, "I wasn't in the mood either. I was enjoying my sleep. Peacefully. Comfortably." He stretched his legs out. "But your wife called me. Middle of the night. Asking where her husband is."

That-That made Donato stop. Not immediately. But the next punch didn't land. His hand hovered mid-air before slowly dropping. Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. He didn't turn. Instead, he inhaled deeply, stepping back from the bag, pulling off his gloves with rough movements.

He grabbed a water bottle, emptied it in one long gulp, then moved toward the sofa and dropped beside Enzo, leaning back, head resting against the cushion, one hand covering his face.

For a moment-nothing. Enzo didn't speak. He just watched. He knew Donato would talk. He always did-when it mattered.

"I don't know what's going on, Enzo..." Donato finally said, voice lower now, stripped of its usual control. Enzo shifted slightly, his attention sharpening. Donato let out a hollow breath. "We had an argument today... I can't even call it an argument." A humorless chuckle escaped him. "Because I didn't even argue." He dragged his hand down his face, eyes staring somewhere distant.

"I tried to ask her. She's been ignoring me since the competition. I thought she was upset because I got late... I apologized. More than once." His jaw tightened. "She didn't say anything. Not a word. Just... anger. Silence."

There was something almost disbelieving in his tone. "I don't even know what I did."

Enzo tilted his head slightly. "Then you should've stayed. Asked again. Why did you leave?"

Donato closed his eyes for a second. "Because it was the right thing to do at that moment," he replied quietly. "I didn't want to say something in anger... something I'd regret later." That alone said everything about how much control it had taken. Because Donato Romano didn't walk away. He made people walk away.

Enzo studied him carefully, then said, softer this time, "You know she's worried, right? She's crying."

A flicker passed across Donato's face. "I know," he said, almost immediately. "But I can't just ignore what happened." His voice dropped. "It's the first time, Enzo... the way she talked to me. The way she looked at me." He swallowed slightly. "And then she pushed me."

The word sat heavy between them. "I just... needed space," he continued, quieter now. "For both of us. So we don't destroy something in one moment of anger." Silence followed. Not uncomfortable. Just... heavy. Then, after a minute, Donato spoke again, this time more composed-but with something decided in his tone.

"I think I should tell Kiara about our plan."

That made Enzo turn fully toward him. "Why now?"

Donato exhaled slowly, staring ahead. "Two days ago she asked me about Vittoria. About me meeting her behind her back." His jaw clenched. "People in the office are talking. They've seen us together-coffee, dinners... they're making assumptions."

His voice hardened slightly. "I think all of this is building up inside her. She's frustrated. Maybe... insecure." He paused, then added quietly, "And I gave her a reason to feel that way."

Enzo nodded slowly. "You're not wrong."

"I don't want her to think she doesn't matter," Donato continued, more firmly now. "I don't want her to feel like she's second to anyone. Especially not Vittoria." That name carried weight now. "So I need to tell her. Everything. At least enough so she understands I'm not betraying her."

Enzo leaned back slightly, considering. Then he said, "I think you're right." A brief pause. "And I think I know why she was that angry today."

Donato turned his head sharply. "Why?"

Enzo raised a brow. "Because of the same reason. Vittoria." He shrugged lightly. "You both entered the venue together. Talking. Smiling."

And just like that- It clicked. Donato straightened, eyes widening slightly. "Shit..." His hand dragged through his hair in frustration. "I didn't even notice," he muttered. "I wasn't paying attention-"

"She was," maybe she thought you to come together." Enzo cut in simply.

Donato let out a sharp breath, standing up, pacing now. "It's not what she thinks," he said, more to himself than to Enzo. "I didn't come with her. We just met outside-she started talking about the event, the contestants-" He shook his head. "I didn't realize we walked in together."

Enzo watched him spiral, then said calmly, "You didn't notice." A beat. "But your wife did."

And that-That hit harder than any punch he had thrown tonight. Because for the first time, Donato truly saw it from her side. And the anger in her eyes... suddenly made sense. now he understand why she is this much angry, why she react like this."

The air in the dim room shifted after that realization-no longer just heavy with anger, but threaded now with clarity, regret, and something dangerously close to urgency. Donato stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly, as if he were recalibrating himself after finally understanding what had gone wrong.

Enzo watched him quietly, arms folded, letting the silence stretch just enough before speaking again. "So," he said, tone calmer now, more grounded, "we still have a stalker out there. Vittoria is still being used as bait. And now your wife thinks you're casually entertaining another woman."

Donato exhaled sharply, dragging his hand through his damp hair. "I'll fix it," he said, more to himself than to Enzo. "I'll tell Kiara everything. She deserves that much."

Enzo nodded once. "Good. Because right now, your plan is working... but it's also starting to cost you something." That sentence lingered. Donato didn't respond immediately, but his jaw tightened slightly. He knew exactly what Enzo meant.

"She's not like the others," Donato said after a pause, his voice quieter now, steadier. "The ones before... they left when they got scared. That's what the stalker counted on." His eyes darkened slightly. "Kiara won't leave. She'll fight. She'll question. She'll stand her ground."

Enzo gave a small, knowing smirk. "And she'll make your life hell while doing it."

A faint, almost unwilling smile touched Donato's lips. "Yes."

There was something almost soft in that admission. A beat passed before Enzo stretched slightly, sighing as he leaned back. "So what now?" he asked casually. "Are you planning to stay here tonight?"

Donato didn't hesitate. He nodded.

And in the very next second "Fucker. Enzo's hand came down sharply on the back of Donato's head. "What the hell?" Donato snapped, turning toward him with irritation.

"After making your wife cry," Enzo shot back, sitting forward now, eyes narrowed, "you're going to leave her alone and sleep here? Really?"

Donato frowned, rubbing the back of his head. "What do you want me to do then?"

Enzo stared at him like the answer was painfully obvious. "Go back to her, idiot." The word landed without mercy. "I'm telling you," Enzo continued, voice firm now, "she's not sleeping. Not tonight. The way she sounded on the phone-she's still crying."

That-That hit somewhere deeper than all their previous conversation. Donato looked away for a second, his expression tightening.

Enzo didn't soften. "Go. Talk. Fix it before it gets worse."

Silence followed, but this time it wasn't uncertain. It was decisive. "You're right " Donato said finally straightening slightly. "In these past months... I've learned one thing about Kiara." Enzo raised a brow. "She's possessive" Donato continued, a faint edge of something almost fond slipping into his tone. "About her people. About what's hers."

Enzo huffed a quiet laugh. "Oh, I can see that." A small pause. Then Donato nodded once, decision made. "Alright. Let's go home." Both of them stood, the tension from earlier now replaced with a clear direction. Enzo grabbed his jacket lazily while Donato moved toward the exit-but just as he reached the door, his steps slowed.

His gaze dropped. To his hand. There, across his knuckles, the skin was split, bruised, slightly swollen-evidence of everything he had just tried to bury in that punching bag. He stared at it for a second. Then let out a quiet, almost resigned breath."I don't think I'll be sleeping in my room tonight anyway."

Enzo paused mid-step, turning back. "Why?"

Donato lifted his hand slightly, showing him the damage. "I injured myself," he said flatly. "And she warned me-if I ever come home hurt, she won't let me sleep in our room."

A beat.Then Enzo burst out laughing. "Finally," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "Someone who can actually handle you." Donato gave him a dry look.

"Suits you, bro. Perfect competition." He clapped Donato's shoulder as he walked past him toward the door. "Come on," Enzo added, still amused. "Let's go see whether Kiara lets you sleep... or throws you out completely." don't worry if she throw you come to me i will eccept you baby."

Donato followed him out, a faint, helpless smile tugging at his lips despite everything. Because for the first time tonight- He wasn't just thinking about the fight. He was thinking about fixing it.

_____

The mansion was silent when Donato returned-too silent for a house that had been so full of life just hours ago. Even his footsteps softened instinctively as he moved through the corridors, a strange hesitation settling into him. For a man who never second-guessed entering any space, this... felt different. Personal. Fragile.

When he reached his bedroom door, he didn't push it open immediately. Instead, he paused. Then slowly, quietly, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp in the corner. Shadows stretched across the walls, making everything feel still... almost hollow. His eyes moved quickly around the space-instinctively searching.

The bed. Empty. His chest tightened. A sudden, sharp unease gripped him. "Where did she go" he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. He took a few slow steps inside, his gaze still fixed on the untouched bed, his mind already racing And then-

He saw her. Near the side of the bed. On the floor. Kiara was sitting with her back resting against the bedframe, her head tilted slightly, as if exhaustion had forced her still. For a second, he thought she had fallen asleep like that.

But then he moved closer. And his heart broke. Her eyes were closed-but tears were still slipping from beneath them, silently trailing down her cheeks, leaving faint, glistening paths behind. Her face looked drained, fragile... like she had cried herself past the point of strength and into something quieter. Something heavier.

She hadn't slept. She had just... stopped. Donato lowered himself slowly beside her, mirroring the way she sat, his shoulder almost brushing hers. He didn't speak. Couldn't. Not when the sight of her like this hit him harder than anything she had done earlier.

Three hours. The thought settled in his chest like weight. She had been sitting here... crying... waiting. For him. Guilt twisted sharply inside him. Carefully, almost hesitantly, he lifted his hand. His fingers hovered near her face for a second before his thumb finally brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had just fallen.

The moment his skin touched hers Her eyes opened. And in the very next second She moved. Kiara didn't even pause, didn't question, didn't look-she threw herself into him, as if something inside her had been holding on by a thread and finally broke.

Donato barely had time to react before her arms wrapped tightly around him, her body pressing into his chest. He steadied himself instantly, one hand gripping her back, the other coming around her instinctively.

She buried her face into him-and then the quiet broke. Her sobs came out harder now, louder, uncontrollable. "I'm sorry... Ro... I'm so sorry..." her voice trembled against him, broken between breaths. "Please don't leave... please... I didn't mean to push you... I don't know how it happened... I'i m so sorry..."

The words kept spilling, over and over, tangled with her crying, each apology more desperate than the last. Donato froze. Not because he didn't know what to do- But because he hadn't expected this. He knew she would be upset. He knew she would regret it.

But this... this level of fear in her voice... this desperation... this need to hold onto him like he might disappear He hadn't seen it coming. And it hit him. Hard. His grip around her tightened slowly, protectively, his hand moving up to cradle the back of her head as he pulled her closer into him. His jaw clenched slightly, not in anger this time-but in something far heavier.

Regret. He had left her like this. Alone. Crying. Breaking. And she had stayed here... waiting. "I'm here," he said finally, his voice low, steady, but softer than it had been all night. "I didn't go anywhere... I'm right here."

But she didn't stop. Her fingers clutched at his shirt, tightening as if she needed to make sure he was real, still there, still hers. "I didn't mean it... I would never hurt you... please don't be angry with me..." she cried, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

Something inside him gave way. Slowly, he shifted slightly, bringing her more securely into his lap, holding her fully now-one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other rubbing slow, grounding circles on her back.

"Enough..." he murmured quietly, his voice no longer sharp, no longer controlled-just gentle. "Stop apologizing like that..."

But she shook her head against him, refusing. "I hurt you" Her voice cracked on the words. And that-That was what finally broke whatever remained of his restraint. Donato closed his eyes for a brief second, exhaling slowly as he rested his forehead lightly against her hair.

"You didn't hurt me," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of truth beneath it. "You lost your temper... that's all." But his hold on her tightened just a little more. Because even if he said that-He knew. It had hurt. Just not in the way she thought.

And right now That didn't matter. Right now, all that mattered was the way she was clinging to him as if letting go would mean losing him. So he didn't let her. He just held her. Firm. Steady. Unmoving. Letting her cry. Letting her break. And silently promising-He wouldn't leave her like that again.

Kiara didn't stop. Even as Donato held her, even as his arms tightened around her in reassurance, her words kept spilling-broken, breathless, desperate, as if silence itself terrified her.

"I shouldn't have done that... I don't even know why I did that... I was angry but not like that... not enough to hurt you..." she rushed out between sobs, her fingers still clutching his shirt like an anchor. "You were trying to talk to me and I didn't even listen... I just- I just kept ignoring you... and then I-" Her voice cracked completely. "I pushed you..."

Donato exhaled slowly, his hand moving gently through her hair, trying to soothe her, to ground her. "Kiara-"

But she shook her head immediately, pulling back just enough to look at him, her eyes red, swollen, filled with tears that refused to stop. "No don't don't say it's okay," she whispered quickly, almost pleading. "It's not okay I know it's not i'I know you you never let anyone disrespect you like that and I-Her words broke again as fresh tears spilled over. "I did that to you..."

Her guilt wasn't just in her words. It was in the way she looked at him-as if she was afraid he might take a step back, might withdraw, might become someone distant and unreachable.

Donato felt something twist painfully inside his chest. "sweetheart, listen to me," he tried again, his voice firmer now but still gentle, his hands coming up to hold her arms lightly. "It's not just your fault. I should have told you. I should have explained about-"

But again, she didn't let him finish. "I don't care about that!" she cried softly, her head shaking as her grip on him tightened again. "I was jealous, okay? I was angry I hated seeing you with her but that doesn't give me the right to treat you like that"

Her voice dropped into something smaller, more fragile.

"I egnore you and you still tried to talk to me" That was what she couldn't accept. That he had stayed calm while she lost control. That he had reached out while she shut him out. "I thought..." her voice trembled again, softer now, "I thought you would leave that you would be so angry that you wouldn't come back"

Donato stilled at that. And in that moment, he understood. This wasn't just guilt. This was fear. Raw, unfiltered fear of losing him. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly, his hand moving to cup the back of her head again, pressing her gently into him. "You think I would leave you over one mistake?"

But she didn't calm. Her breathing was still uneven, her apologies still spilling, softer now but relentless. "I don't deserve you being this calm I don't deserve you saying it's okay I need to fix this I need to make it right" She wasn't listening anymore. She was trying to undo something that couldn't be undone by words.

Donato tried again-holding her face, calling her name, telling her to stop-but nothing reached her. She just kept going. As if saying sorry enough times would erase what happened. As if her guilt needed to be spoken out loud until it emptied itself.

And that's when he realized Words weren't going to stop her. Not tonight. So he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't forceful. Just sudden. His hand steady on her jaw, his lips pressing against hers-cutting through her words, her apologies, her spiraling thoughts in one quiet, decisive moment.

And just like that Silence. Her voice stopped. Her breath hitched. But she didn't respond. She didn't kiss him back. Donato didn't pull away. He kept the kiss soft, patient-giving, not asking. Not demanding anything from her, not expecting her to meet him halfway. Just... grounding her. Letting her feel him. Letting her know he was here.

But then-He felt it. Her lips trembling. A soft, broken movement against his. And then the faint warmth Tears. She was still crying. Even now. Even in this. Something inside him cracked at that. Slowly, he pulled back, just enough to look at her. His hands came up to cup her face fully now, thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn't stop.

"Kiara..." his voice softened, almost a whisper. Her eyes met his-vulnerable, shattered, searching. "Kiss me back," he said gently. Not a command. A request. A reassurance. And that was all it took. Something in her finally gave in.

She leaned forward and kissed him Not hesitantly. Not carefully. But with everything she had been holding inside. Her hands gripped him tighter, her lips pressing against his with urgency, with emotion, with a kind of desperate devotion that didn't ask permission. She didn't wait for him to lead this time-she took it, pouring everything she couldn't say into that one moment.

The apology. The fear. The love. All of it. The shift caught him off guard for a second-but then he responded, his arms wrapping around her again, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, not rushed but intense in its own quiet way.

They moved without thinking. Without noticing. Until they lost balance And landed softly against the floor. Kiara above him, her hands braced against him, but not pulling away. Not stopping. The world outside that room faded completely.

No arguments. No anger. No misunderstandings. Just this. Just them. Kissing like it was the only language left between them. Like it was the only way to say what words had failed to carry. Slow. Deep. Unsteady with emotion. And yet-Certain.

Because beneath all the chaos of the night, beneath the anger and the hurt There was something stronger. Something neither of them had let go of. And in that moment They held onto it.

Their breaths were still uneven when the kiss finally broke. Not because they wanted to stop-but because they had to.

The need for air forced them apart, their foreheads still almost touching, their lips lingering just a fraction too close. For a brief second, a delicate string connected them before it disappeared, and Donato's thumb instinctively came up, brushing softly across her lower lip-wiping away both the trace of it and the tears that had mixed there.

Neither of them spoke immediately. The silence now wasn't heavy like before-it was quiet, warm... recovering.

Slowly, Donato shifted, sitting up properly while pulling Kiara along with him. He guided her gently until she was settled on his lap, her body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her close, almost protectively, while she leaned into him without resistance, her face burying into the curve of his neck.

Her breathing began to slow. The soft, broken sniffles faded little by little as his hand moved in steady strokes along her back, grounding her, calming her. When he felt her body finally relax against him, he tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing near her temple as he spoke quietly, his voice low against her skin.

"You okay now?"

She didn't lift her head. She just nodded against him. A small movement-but enough. Donato watched her for a moment, his gaze softening as he studied her profile, the traces of tears still on her cheeks, the vulnerability still lingering in her expression.

"Do you want to talk..." he murmured gently, "what made you this restless?"

This time, she slowly pulled back. Not completely-just enough to look at him. Her eyes met his, still fragile but calmer now. She nodded again, taking a slow, steady breath as if preparing herself. "I..." her voice was soft, slightly hoarse from crying. "I was worried when you were late."

Her fingers tightened slightly against his shirt. "I kept waiting... and then I saw you coming..." She paused. Her gaze faltered for a second before continuing. "But you weren't alone." There it was. The truth.

"I saw you with Vittoria" she said quietly, her voice dipping again. "And I'I got angry. I thought you were with her... that you came with her..." Her words came slower now, more controlled-but the emotion was still there beneath them.

"I didn't want to react like that... I didn't want to ignore you... but the way she was holding you the way she was talking and you were laughing" her jaw tightened slightly. "It made me angry."

Donato listened without interrupting this time. Fully. Patiently. When she finished, he exhaled softly, his hand moving up to her neck, his lips brushing lightly against her skin-a quiet reassurance before he spoke.

"I didn't come with her, baby."

She stilled slightly at that. Then lifted her head, turning to look at him properly.

"huu?"

"We just met outside the venue," he explained calmly. "She started talking about the event, the decorations, the contestants... I didn't even realize when we ended up walking in together." His expression softened, a hint of regret crossing his face. "And I didn't notice when she held my hand." A pause. "I'm sorry."

Kiara shook her head immediately, her fingers tightening around his shirt again. "No it's not your fault," she said quickly. "I should have talked to you instead of ignoring you..." Her gaze dropped slightly, a small pout forming unconsciously on her lips. "I misunderstood everything... and took it out on you."

Donato couldn't help the faint smile that touched his lips at that expression-soft, fond, even now. He lifted her chin gently, making her look at him again. "It's nothing like what you thought," he said quietly. "I was late because my car broke down near the venue. I had to wait for another one. My phone died too."

Her eyes widened slightly."Oh" The realization settled in. "I got everything wrong..." she whispered, her voice smaller now, almost embarrassed. "And I got angry at you..."

Donato watched her for a moment. Then his expression shifted-slightly more serious now, though still gentle. "There's something else I need to tell you." She looked up at him again, attentive now, nodding silently.

He took a breath. "Enzo and I... we're using Vittoria to catch mo stalker."

That made her freeze."What do you mean?"

"I know she's interested in me," he said plainly. "And I've never encouraged it. But Enzo pointed something out" His gaze hardened just slightly, a different kind of focus settling in. She's not an easy target. She moves with security, with guards. If someone wanted to hurt her-it wouldn't be simple."

Kiara listened carefully, her confusion slowly turning into understanding.

"So" he continued, "if I appear close to her... meet her sometimes... make it look like there's something there "Her breath caught slightly. "...the stalker will try to reach her?" Donato nodded. "Yes." He held her gaze. "And when that happens-we'll be ready." A quiet silence followed.

Kiara processed everything slowly, her mind piecing it together."Oh" That was all she said at first. Then, softer "You should have told me." There was no accusation in her voice this time. Just honesty.

"I know," Donato replied immediately, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. "I should have." A small pause. "I didn't want to worry you."

She gave a faint, tired smile. "I was already worried." That made him exhale quietly, a hint of regret settling deeper now. "I'm sorry."

This time, she didn't argue. She just leaned forward again, resting her forehead lightly against his. And in that quiet moment There were no more misunderstandings. Only the fragile, rebuilding trust between them. Stronger now-Because they had almost broken it.

_____

The atmosphere inside Vittoria's house had turned suffocating-thick with anger, fear, and something far more dangerous: truth finally exposed. The moment her parents found out, everything shattered.

Her father stood in the center of the room, his face red with fury, veins visible along his neck as he held the crumpled threatening notes in his hand. The papers were stained, the words written in something that made the message feel even more sinister. Beside him, the bouquet she had once dismissed so casually now lay on the table like evidence of a nightmare she had refused to acknowledge.

"He is a married man!" her father's voice thundered, echoing through the room like a crack of thunder. "And you are still chasing him? Vittoria, have you lost all sense of morality?"

But Vittoria didn't flinch. Her chin lifted stubbornly, her eyes burning-not with shame, but with obsession. "I don't care, Dad," she said, her voice steady but intense. "I don't care if he's married. I love him... and I will make him mine."

Her mother gasped softly, stepping forward, disbelief and anger mixing in her expression. "You've lost your mind," she snapped, her voice trembling. "This is not love, Vittoria. This is madness."

"Yes!" Vittoria shouted back, her composure finally cracking. "Maybe I have! What's wrong with loving someone? Tell me that!"

"Nothing is wrong with loving someone," her mother replied sharply, her eyes hard now. "But loving a married man-destroying another woman's life-that is wrong." The room fell into a tense silence for a second Before her father slammed the notes onto the table.

"And what about this?" he demanded, his voice dropping into something colder, more dangerous. "These threats? The flowers? The accident? Your car brakes didn't just fail-someone planned it."

He stepped closer, forcing her to look at the blood-written warning. "You are being hunted, Vittoria." She looked at it for a second-but instead of fear, irritation flickered across her face. "You don't have to worry about that," she dismissed casually. "It's just some admirer of his. Someone who doesn't want me near him."

Her father stared at her as if he no longer recognized his own daughter. "Have you completely lost your mind?" he exploded. "An admirer?!" He grabbed one of the notes again, his hand shaking slightly-not from anger this time, but from fear.

"Read this!" he barked, his voice breaking with the weight of it. "It says if you don't control your daughter... you'll only have one child left your son. but your doughter she will disappear from this world."

His words hung heavy in the air. Deadly. "Do you understand what this means?" he continued, his voice lowering into something terrifyingly calm. "Do you even know who Donato Romano is?"

Vittoria's silence stretched-but her expression didn't change.

"He is not a man you play games with," her father said, each word sharp. "He is a mafia leader. If this is coming from his world... then this is not a warning you survive twice."

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face But it vanished just as quickly. "No," she said, shaking her head, her voice stubborn again. "He wouldn't do this."

Her father let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh. "You don't know him," he said. "Men like him don't leave loose ends. If he thinks you are a problem-"

"I am not a problem," she cut him off sharply. "I am the one he will choose."

That was it. Something snapped. Her father closed his eyes for a brief second, as if restraining himself, before opening them again-cold, final.

"You are leaving this country." The words fell like a verdict. "Tomorrow morning. First flight."

Vittoria froze. Her breath hitched. "What...?" she whispered, her voice losing strength for the first time.

"You heard me," he said, unmoved. "This ends now. Your obsession ends. Your involvement with him ends. Everything ends."

Her legs felt weak beneath her. "No no, you can't do that"

"I can," he interrupted firmly. "And I will. I will not stand here and watch my daughter walk into her own grave."

Her hands trembled slightly at her sides. For the first time- Fear truly touched her. But even then... Beneath the fear-That obsession still burned.

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