Leona sat curled up on one of the cushioned benches outside the Moretti estate, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. The night air carried a chill, yet she barely felt it. Her thoughts were louder than the wind, louder than the distant rustling of leaves.
Why am I even here? She wondered.
The day had been unbearable — Dante's teasing, Alessia's relentless giggles, and Valerio's brooding silence. The morning after she'd stayed in his room haunted her. They had only slept, nothing more, yet the way everyone smirked made her skin crawl. Worse, Valerio hadn't said a word to defend her — or himself.
"Coward," she muttered under her breath.
"You talking about me?"
Leona jolted at the sound of Valerio's voice. He stood near the doorway, hands in his pockets, his sharp gaze fixed on her.
"I thought you'd be off sulking somewhere," she shot back.
Valerio stepped closer, his boots crunching against the gravel. "I don't sulk."
"Oh, right," she scoffed. "You just stare at people like you're planning their funeral."
That earned her a small smile, fleeting but real. He sat beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers.
For a while, neither spoke. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't unbearable either.
"I didn't say anything this morning," Valerio began quietly, "because I didn't want to give Dante or anyone else more reason to drag you into this life."
"Into this life?" Leona turned to him. "I think I'm already stuck here. First, you drag me into your house, now people think—"
"I know," Valerio cut in. His voice softened. "I know."
Leona looked away, her gaze falling on the estate gates in the distance. The shadows beyond seemed to stretch and twist, cold and endless.
"I can't keep doing this," she muttered.
"Doing what?"
"This." She gestured vaguely around her. "I feel like… like I'm not even me anymore. I'm just someone stuck between your life and my own." Her voice faltered. "I can't live like this — like some stray you decided to keep."
"You're not a stray." Valerio's tone hardened. "You're here because… because you're safer here."
Leona let out a bitter laugh. "Safer? I shot three people a few days ago." Her voice cracked. "I killed them."
"You saved Alessia," Valerio reminded her.
"I know," she whispered, "but it doesn't feel like I should be here. I can't… I don't belong here."
Valerio shifted closer. "You don't have to keep running, Leona."
She blinked up at him, confused. "I'm not running."
"You are," he said quietly. "You always have been."
Leona clenched her jaw, fighting the sudden sting in her eyes. "And what about you?" she shot back. "You barely speak to me. You're always somewhere else — like you don't even want me here. So why keep me?"
Valerio exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "Because I do want you here." His voice was quiet but firm. "I just… don't know how to handle it."
Leona stared at him. For once, he didn't look like the cold, calculated Moretti heir. He looked… unsure. Vulnerable.
"I'm not good at this," Valerio muttered. "I don't know how to care about someone without screwing it up."
Leona's heart skipped a beat. "Then don't."
He gave her a dry smile. "Too late."
The air seemed heavier now, their silence weighted with things neither knew how to say. Leona felt her chest tighten.
"I didn't mean to make things complicated," she said softly.
"You didn't," Valerio replied. "You just… became part of it."
A bitter chuckle escaped her. "Wow. Thanks for making me feel special."
Valerio turned, his gaze locking with hers. "I'm serious," he said quietly. "You… you make things less cold."
Leona's breath caught. The warmth in his voice startled her more than his words.
Before she could answer, hurried footsteps broke the moment. One of Valerio's men jogged toward them, face grim.
"Sir," the man said, breathless. "We've got movement near the estate's perimeter."
Valerio stiffened instantly, his entire posture shifting into something sharp and dangerous.
"Go," Valerio ordered. "Double the guards on Alessia's side."
The man gave a quick nod before disappearing into the shadows.
Leona swallowed. "What's going on?"
"Could be nothing," Valerio said, but his eyes told a different story. "Or it could be worse."
She knew better than to ask more — but the unease in her chest refused to fade.
"Leona," Valerio said firmly, turning back to her. "Stay inside tonight."
"You're not serious—"
"I mean it," he interrupted. "Don't leave the house, no matter what you hear."
"Valerio, I can take care of myself."
"I know," he said softly. "But I don't want you to."
For a moment, she couldn't breathe. There was no teasing in his eyes, no guarded expression — just raw honesty.
"Fine," she muttered, forcing a smirk to break the tension. "But if I die eating another salad tomorrow, I'm haunting you."
That almost made him smile. "Deal."
As Valerio walked off toward the guards, Leona watched him disappear into the night.
Her heart pounded louder than the wind.
The clock struck midnight — a cold, metallic chime that seemed to ripple through the air. In the shadowed outskirts south of the Moretti estate, darkness clung to the narrow alleyways like a suffocating shroud. The faint hum of the city barely reached this forgotten corner — a perfect hunting ground for someone like him.
Elliot Marconi sat in his cramped apartment, oblivious to the danger lurking just outside his window. His fingers danced across his keyboard, lines of encrypted code scrolling across his screen. He was close — dangerously close. After weeks of tracking Vesper's movements, Elliot had uncovered something crucial — a pattern woven through the assassin's hits. A location, a possible safehouse, perhaps even a connection to the Russo family.
"Got you," Elliot whispered to himself, a hint of triumph in his voice.
But triumph was fleeting.
A shadow moved outside the window. Fast. Silent.
The faintest whisper of fabric brushing against the sill. Elliot's head snapped toward the sound.
"Hello?" he called out. His own voice sounded shaky. Swallowing hard, he reached for the drawer beside his desk — where his gun rested.
Too late.
The lock on his window clicked open, barely audible. A breath of cold air seeped in before the figure emerged — swift and deadly. Vesper moved like a shadow, the faint gleam of a knife in his gloved hand the only warning.
Elliot barely had time to react.
"Don't," Vesper's low voice commanded. The sharp edge of a blade pressed against Elliot's throat before he could even think to reach for his weapon.
"W-We can talk about this," Elliot stammered. His eyes flicked to his screen. "I don't even know what I found yet. I can erase it. No one has to know!"
"You know enough." Vesper's voice was cold, detached.
"Please…" Elliot's breath hitched.
"You made this choice," Vesper murmured. With a swift, precise motion, the blade plunged into Elliot's chest.
The hacker gasped, eyes wide as blood bubbled up at his lips. His hands clutched weakly at the hilt.
"W-Why?" he choked out.
Vesper knelt beside him, withdrawing a second knife — identical to the one in Elliot's chest. With meticulous precision, he drove the blade directly into the hacker's heart — Vesper's signature mark.
The letter 'V' glistened under the dim light.
Rising to his feet, Vesper wiped his gloves clean, glanced once at the lifeless body, and disappeared into the night. The clock beside Elliot's bed blinked 12:01 AM.
Right on time.
On the other hand, Alessia in her room
Alessia sat in her room, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the faint curve of her stomach. The once comforting silence of the Moretti estate now felt suffocating. She knew she couldn't keep this secret forever — but how could she possibly tell them?
The weight of her secret gnawed at her mind. The man — the one responsible for the life growing inside her — wasn't just anyone. He was a ghost from a past she'd tried desperately to forget. A man whose presence in her life would bring nothing but chaos and danger. Worse still, he was tied to the dark underbelly of the Mafia world — a world her family had spent years trying to shield her from.
Alessia clenched her fists. Telling Valerio wasn't an option — his temper would burn everything down before she could explain. Dante, while softer, wouldn't stay calm either. They would demand names, answers, and inevitably, blood. The Russo and Moretti families weren't known for mercy.
But keeping quiet felt just as heavy. Every time Valerio or Dante smiled at her, every time their mother fussed over her well-being, Alessia's guilt twisted deeper. She knew they believed the father was someone safe — someone they could control.
What if they found out the truth? What if the father came looking for her or worse… the baby?
Her hand instinctively covered her stomach, protective and uncertain. She couldn't let her family know. Not yet.
"I'll keep you safe," she whispered to her unborn child, her voice shaking. "Even if it means lying to everyone I love."
Alessia's heart pounded whenever she thought of her father and Valerio discovering the truth. Her father, fierce and ruthless, had spent his entire life ensuring his family's reputation remained untouchable. Valerio, cold and calculated, would see her situation as a betrayal — a weakness that needed to be erased.
If they found out who the father was, there would be no reasoning with them. Blood would spill — and Alessia wasn't sure who would suffer more. Her father's wrath was swift, and Valerio's obsession with control made him even more unpredictable.
The man she once trusted had ties to dangerous circles — enemies of both the Russo and Moretti families. If Valerio knew, he wouldn't stop until that man was gone — no matter what it cost.
Alessia clutched her stomach tightly, her breath shaky. For now, silence was her only protection — for her, and for her unborn child.