The room they threw her into was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful.
A grand chandelier hung like a frozen storm cloud from the ceiling. Velvet curtains framed windows so tall she couldn't even see the top. The bed was the size of a small boat, all black silk and gold trim. There was an ornate fireplace, unlit but regal, and a dresser that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a Renaissance palace. Everything was flawless—except for the thick locks on the door. The sound they made when sealing her in was sharp and absolute.
This wasn't a guest room.
It was a gilded cage.
Liana stood frozen for a moment, back pressed against the now-locked door. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she whispered to herself. "I didn't ask for this."
But the room didn't respond. It watched in silence.
She started moving—not because she was curious, but because she was scared. Desperately so. She searched the drawers. Empty. The closet. Filled with expensive gowns, most of which looked more like lingerie than clothing. Her fingers skimmed across the smooth fabrics, wondering who had picked them and for what purpose.
The windows didn't open. She tried. They were sealed shut. Bulletproof glass, no doubt. The curtains were thick, made to block out both light and noise.
She tried screaming once, just to see.
Nothing. No echo. No answer. The room was soundproof.
Panic started to creep in, settling in her chest like ice water. She collapsed beside the bed and hugged her knees. She didn't cry. Not yet. She didn't have the strength for tears. She was too focused on staying calm. On surviving.
How long would they keep her here?
What did Leonardo want from her?
Why hadn't he just—done what people like him do to witnesses?
The door clicked.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide.
Leonardo Moretti stepped inside, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His presence filled the room before he even said a word. Behind him, two guards stood at attention. They didn't enter. They didn't need to.
He carried a silver tray. Soup. Warm bread. A glass of wine. The absurd normalcy of it made Liana feel like she was losing her mind.
He walked to the nightstand and set the tray down without a word.
"I assume you're hungry," he said.
She stared at him like he'd spoken in another language.
"You're feeding me now?" she said, her voice flat.
He looked at her for a long moment before answering. "Would you prefer chains in the basement?"
"I'd prefer to go home."
His jaw tightened. "You saw something you weren't supposed to. You're a risk."
"I wouldn't tell anyone," she said quickly. "I swear—I didn't even see your face that clearly in the alley."
He took a slow step toward her. Then another. Until the distance between them dissolved.
"You're seeing it now," he said.
Liana backed up until her shoulders hit the wall. Her heart hammered.
"You think I enjoy this?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Dragging someone innocent into this world?"
"You sure act like you enjoy it."
Something in his eyes flickered. Not rage. Not guilt. Something else.
"I don't enjoy being forced into cornered decisions," he said, his tone clipped. "But make no mistake—once you're in, there's no way out. And whether you survive depends entirely on you."
She swallowed hard. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out something small.
Her necklace.
The tiny silver chain with a single rose charm—the one she'd dropped in the alley.
He held it out to her between two gloved fingers.
She didn't move.
"Take it," he said.
Hesitantly, she stepped forward and took it from his hand. Their fingers brushed. Hers were ice. His were warm. Unnaturally calm.
"I'm not a monster," he said quietly.
"No?" she whispered. "Then what are you?"
He stared at her, unblinking. "Something worse when betrayed."
He turned and walked toward the door. At the threshold, he paused.
"You'll stay here. You'll be fed. Clothed. Given space. But don't mistake kindness for freedom."
Then he left.
The door clicked shut again. The lock turned. She was alone.
Liana slid onto the edge of the bed, necklace clutched in her hand, and tried to breathe.
Trapped.
Not just in a room.
But in the world of a man who ruled with silence, shadows, and steel.
The devil had touched her world.
And nothing would ever be the same again.