The Breaking Point
Power wasn't about who was the strongest.
It was about who could make others believe they were.
Lorenzo De Luca was losing that belief.
And tonight, he was about to prove it.
The grand dining hall, that is usually a place of polished charm and calculated civility, was a battlefield of tension tonight. The scent of whiskey hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of smoke from expensive cigars. The men who sat around the long table—Lorenzo's most trusted—were uncharacteristically quiet. Even Matteo, who always had something to say, kept his gaze lowered, calculating.
I stayed near the far end of the room, a picture of quiet observation. My presence wasn't expected to hold weight here, not in a room filled with men who measured power in blood and violence.
But they had no idea.
Lorenzo was standing at the head of the table, while tapping his fingers against his glass in a steady, methodical rhythm.masking his expression making it to be unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight way he tightened his jaw. He was unraveling.
"Someone is betraying me."
His voice cut through the silence like a scalpel.
No one dared to speak.
Lorenzo's dark eyes moved across the room, searching for weakness, for guilt. But suspicion alone wasn't enough. Lorenzo didn't just need a traitor—he needed an example.
He look at Matteo, fixing his gaze on him
"Your quietness is unusual this days and is unlike you" Lorenzo mused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He had said it casually, with a quite tone,but I saw the way he curled his fingers just a little tighter around the glass. "it seems as if you are hiding something, isn't it?"
Matteo didn't react immediately. But When he did, it was with that same easy smirk, the one that never quite reached his eyes.
"Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?" Matteo's voice was smooth, effortless. But I saw the slight shift in his posture—the barely-there tension in his hands.
Lorenzo chuckled, a hollow sound. "Trust is a funny thing, Matteo. It lasts until it doesn't seems to last again."
I could almost hear the heartbeat of everyone in the room,even the ticking of the clock on the wall as the room is silent.
Then Lorenzo turned to Enzo, one of his lower-ranking men, and gave a single nod.
The doors swung open.
Two men dragged in a third, his body slumped, blood staining his once-crisp white shirt. His face was swollen, one eye shut completely, lips cracked. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a rattling struggle.
Stefano.
He had been one of Lorenzo's runners. Loyal. Efficient. Silent.
But tonight, he was bait.
Lorenzo stepped forward,he crouch down in front of Stefano's trembling body. He reached out, almost gently, and gripped Stefano's chin, forcing his bloodied face upward.
"Tell me," Lorenzo murmured. "Who paid you to steal from me?"
Stefano groaned, barely conscious. "I—didn't—"
Lorenzo didn't let him finish.
He plunged a knife deep into Stefano's thigh.with one swift move.
A choked scream echoed through the room.
I didn't flinch.
Neither did Rafael Moretti.
Matteo, however, clenched his jaw ever so slightly.
Interesting.
Lorenzo twisted the blade before yanking it free while letting the blood pool onto the marble floor. He stood straight why wiping the knife clean with a cloth, his expression eerily calm.
"Loyalty means nothing without proof," Lorenzo said.
His eyes flickered across the room.
To Matteo.
To me.
And then—
To Rafael.
---
A Wolf Among Lions
Rafael Moretti was the only man in the room who was comfortable,he was unbothered with everything unfolding.
Sitting back in his chair with so much ease,he was just swirling the dark amber liquid in his glass with a lazy smirk plastered on his face.
"You always did have a flair for theatrics," Rafael mused. "But I wonder—do you actually have proof? Or are you just throwing knives in the dark?"
Lorenzo's grip on his glass tightened. "I don't need proof to recognize a rat."
Rafael arched a brow. "No, but you need proof to kill the right one."
A silent challenge.
The other men in the room stiffens instantly.
Matteo shifted ever so slightly,while glancing at Lorenzo from the corner of his eye.
Lorenzo's patience was wearing thin.
"I don't remember or recall inviting you here to question my authority," Lorenzo said with his voice measured but sharp.
Rafael smirked. "No, you invited me here because you don't trust your own men."
Silence.
Lorenzo's jaw ticked.
I almost smiled.
Because Rafael wasn't just taunting him—he was right.
---
Matteo's Hidden Game
Later that night, I found Matteo in his office.
He didn't hear me enter at first.
His back was turned, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, urgent.
"No, he doesn't know yet. But we have to be careful. If Lorenzo finds out…" A pause. Then—"We'll move when the time is right."
My lips curved.
Matteo, you snake.
I stepped forward, letting the floorboard creak beneath my heel.
Matteo turned swiftly, his expression shifting the second he saw me. Gone was the tension, replaced by an easy smirk.
"Eavesdropping, Isabella? That's not very ladylike."
I tilted my head. "Isn't it?"
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "What do you want?"
I took a slow step forward. "I want to know what you're up to."
His smirk widened. "Darling, I'm always up to something."
A lie.
And he thought I didn't see it.
Good.
I let him believe it.
Because soon, Matteo would realize exactly how much he had underestimated me.
---
The Whisper in the Dark
Hours later, I returned to my room, mind racing.
Matteo was plotting something.
Lorenzo was unraveling.
And Rafael was watching everything.
But none of it explained the message Rafael had received last night.
She's not who she says she is.
Who sent it?
And what did they know?
A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts.
I opened it—
No one was there.
But at my feet lay a single, bloodstained note.
The words were smeared, but clear enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Trust no one. Not even him."
The blood was fresh.
And I had a feeling it wasn't a warning.
It was a promise.