The door to the boardroom slammed shut behind Marcus Wilson, leaving behind a silence heavy enough to strangle. He didn't look back. His fury still boiling, every step through the corridors of the Racci estate was a drumbeat of anger. His vision narrowed until all he saw was Matteo's smug face leaning in the shadows of the boardroom.
He found him exactly where he expected, the eastern corridor, away from the elders, leaning against a marble column as though the confrontation he heard had been a private play staged for his amusement.
"You've got the nerve, Wilson," Matteo said, the corner of his lips curled in mockery. " Storming into my father's boardroom like you own the place"
Marcus didn't reply. His fist shot forward, slamming into Matteo's jaw with a crack that echoed through the hall. The younger Racci staggered back, blood blooming on his lip, the smirk gone.
"That", Marcus growled, stepping forward, "was for what you did"
Matteo spat red onto the polished floor, eyes flashing with fury but also twisted delight. "You think you can punish me like some street thug?"
He shoved Matteo back into the column, the impact rattling it. For a heartbeat, the predator's mask slipped from Matteo's face, replaced by something colder, calculating. Then, just as quickly, the smile returned.
"You're already at war, Wilson," Matteo whispered, his voice low. "You just don't know it yet."
Marcus didn't answer. He left Matteo bleeding against the column, fists clenched and face stone cold, storm clouds raging in his chest.
AT THE WILSON ESTATE
Night cloaked the Wilson mansion when Marcus finally returned. He didn't bother with pleasantries; he found Sebastian in the training yard, shirt soaked through, driving his fists into the leather of a heavy bag with relentless force.
"Sebastian", Marcus called, voice sharp.
The younger man turned, sweat streaking. Down hi stemples. His expression shifted at once when he saw Marcus' face. "What is it?"
Marcus nodded once, curtly, "at the masquerade. The Racci paid them, the son said it was because they wanted to see if rumors were true."
Sebastian froze, chest heaving. Then his eyes burned with fury Marcus had rarely seen. "That bastard" He snatched his jacket from the bench nearby. " i'm going after him now. "
Marcus stood in front of him, a wall of iron. "You'll do no such thing."
"And why should I listen to you?" Sebastian snapped, shoving Marcus's arm, his temper breaking its leash. "That stupid stunt he did could have harmed her, and you expect me to sit here, while the enemy..."
"I expect you to think," Marcus's voice cracked like thunder. His hand caught Sebastian's wrist mid-swing, gripping with enough force to halt him cold. "Charging into their house is suicide and they. will. kill. you. That's what he wants. You'll walk right into his hands, and then Isabella will lose someone close to her"
Sebastian's chest rose and fell like a stormy sea, rage bleeding into helplessness. His fists clenched, trembling ." So we do nothing?"
"We wait," Marcus, quieter now. "We plan. We strike where it matters. But we don't act like children throwing knives in the dark."
The air shifted. Both men turned as the sound of soft footsteps broke the tension. Camilla stood near the gate, her golden hair catching the light of morning. Her expression, however, was anything but bright. She had heard enough.
"So it was that Matteo," she said quietly. Not a question. Her brown eyes were steady, unreadable, as they flicked between Marcus and Sebastian.
Marcus's face hardened, his usual wall snapping back into place. "You shouldn't be here"
"Maybe not, but this is the training ground. So that means i have every right to be here" Camilla answered, stepping in . she glanced at Sebastian, then back to Marcus. "But you should know i don't appreciate being kept in the dark when my family is in danger". Her words were pointed, deliberate.
Family.
Marcus's gaze lingered on her a fraction too long, something flickering in his eyes before he buried it. The unspoken truth hovered between them, Camilla just wasn't his niece. She was his daughter. But she never called him father, and he never asked her to. That fragile silence had been their only shield.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he noticed something in the exchange but chose not to speak.
"We'll deal with Matteo," Marcus said instead, his voice a blade sheathed in control. "but not with reckless rage.
AT THE RACCI MANSION
Dawn spread pale light across the Racci estate, but inside On Vittorio's office, the night had never ended. Heavy drapes kept the world outside hidden, and the room was thick with smoke from his half-burned cigar.
Matteo sat on the couch, lip split from Marcus's fist, but the smirk hadn't left him. If anything, it had widened.
"He stuck you", Vittorio said, voice even. Not a question, but a statement.
Matteo dabbed at the blood with a handkerchief "I quiet enjoyed it," he smiled a little
For a long moment, Vittorio said nothing. He let the silence drag, then finally stubbed out his cigar with deliberate slowness.
"The Wilson's need to be reminded of what it means to cross a Racci," He said, his eyes cold as winter steel, "Even if we just got back."
He turns to his consigliere. "I heard they have a new shipment. You know what to do, right?"
The consigliere inclined his head and left without a word.
Matteo leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. " You're escalating, Father. One shipment turns to ten. Soon it will be open war."
Vittorio fixed him with a stare that cut through any layer of Matteo's arrogance. "You think I do this for you, I do this because Marcus Wilson looked me in the eye and threatened me, in front of others." He laughed maniacally, "No man does that and walks away, not even the Wilson." He turned angrily, "What he did to me was total humiliation, and if I don't retaliate, they will see me as a weak old man."
For the first time, Matteo's smirk faltered, only for a breath, then it returned sharper than ever.
"As you say, Father," He said softly.
That night, the Wilson docks roared with flames. Timber cracked and splintered, black smoke curling into the sky. Workers scattered like ants, shouting, some trying desperately to save crates from the inferno. The smell of burning goods and saltwater filled the air
From a distance, Sebastian and Marcus stood at the pier, fists clenched and teeth gritted
"This is just the beginning," Sebastian hissed.
Marcus's jaw tightened. His eyes never left the flames. "No, this is just the spark. The fire hasn't started yet."
The glow of the blaze painted both their faces in shades of war. And in the smoke above, the shadow of open conflict loomed closer, inevitable.