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📚 Quick Recap of Chapter 12
The CEO had a secret meeting with his consigliere, revealing someone inside his company might be working with an external mafia faction.
The new actress and the CEO shared a moment of electric tension on set — a fragile touch, an accidental glance, words unspoken.
The famous actress continued her manipulative dance, sensing the CEO's drifting interest.
The chapter ended with the CEO receiving an anonymous black envelope — inside: a photograph of the new actress... and a crosshair marked over her heart.
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💥 Chapter 13: In the Crosshair of Fate
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The photograph lay like a curse on his mahogany desk.
The CEO sat motionless, the envelope still crumpled in his left hand, the image burning a hole in his thoughts. A crosshair. A quiet threat. A message not just to him — but through him.
He turned it over. No fingerprints. No words. Just silence. And the hauntingly vulnerable face of her — the girl who, unknowingly, had walked into a battlefield.
He stood abruptly, the chair sliding behind him, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Rome was bathed in late evening gold, the rooftops like dying embers. Yet all he could feel was ice pressing against his lungs.
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The Actress Unaware
The new actress — sweet, sharp-eyed, and still unfamiliar with the war zones behind the luxury — was rehearsing her lines on the open-air set. Wind tugged gently at her dress, her hair catching the fading sun.
"Cut!" the director barked. "That's good. We'll take five."
She stepped away, eyes scanning for water, unaware of the gaze fixed on her from afar. Not just one gaze. Three. One curious. One possessive. One deadly.
From a black sedan parked discreetly across the hill, a lens focused in and clicked. One more photo. One more record. Orders had been given.
"She's the weakness," a man muttered into a burner phone. "The girl is his crack in the armor."
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The Warning
Back at the CEO's estate, he called his consigliere — Marzio, the man who had raised him when his father was gunned down in a street in Palermo.
"She's being watched."
Marzio's voice was steady. "Do you want her protected?"
"I want her untouched," he growled. "Not a whisper of fear near her."
"But then she must know what world she has entered."
"She doesn't need to," the CEO said coldly. "The less she knows, the longer she lives."
Marzio sighed. "And when she finds out the truth about you?"
The CEO didn't answer. His silence said enough.
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Nightfall in Rome
That night, he showed up unannounced on the rooftop where she often came to eat dinner alone. She blinked in surprise, a fork halfway to her lips.
"You came here?" she asked softly. "No bodyguards? No grand entrance?"
He took a seat across from her, sliding the bottle of vintage wine he brought across the table. "I needed fresh air."
"And...?" she tilted her head.
"And maybe your company."
She smiled — something honest, something untrained. The kind of smile no actress could fake.
They talked. About the film. About Rome. About meaningless things that felt like lifelines.
Then, her gaze flickered downward. "You're wearing gloves."
He stilled. "Yes."
"It's August."
He met her eyes. "I get cold when I'm nervous."
"You? Nervous?" she laughed. "That's rich."
But he didn't laugh. He only stared — because her laugh had become something dangerous to him.
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The First Real Touch
As they stood up to leave, she tripped — just slightly — on the edge of the rooftop stone. His arms caught her instinctively, hands on her waist, hers on his chest.
Time slowed.
She looked up.
He was close. Too close. The city lights made his brown eyes look darker, deeper, like something ancient stirred behind them.
Their breath mingled in silence.
He pulled back first.
"Go home early tonight," he said quietly. "Don't go out. Don't open your door unless you know who it is."
The shift in his tone was like winter across her skin. Her smile faded.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
She didn't believe him.
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The Trap
Hours later, she was asleep in her hotel suite.
A man in a grey suit entered the lobby unnoticed, bypassed cameras, and disabled the security feed. Room 1503. The target.
But when the door opened, the girl inside the room wasn't alone.
He was waiting.
Gun in hand. No words. Just action.
The intruder froze. Recognition flashed in his eyes — "The Devil of Rome."
Too late.
The CEO fired.
One shot. Silent. Dead.
He walked to the man's body, checked the pockets. A phone. A key. A second photo — this time with a time and location.
Tomorrow. 6:00 PM. Cinecittà Studios.
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Aftermath
She woke to find a note on her pillow:
> "You don't need to be afraid. But you do need to trust me.
— L"
She stared at it for a long time.
Not understanding everything.
But understanding enough to realize:
She wasn't just acting in a film anymore.
She was living in one.
And the man she thought was only a producer…
Was far more than she could have imagined.
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Chapter 13 Ends