The morning sun barely broke through the blinds when Serena stirred awake, her body aching from a night spent half on the couch, half in restless dreams. Her laptop still sat open on the coffee table, files scattered like evidence in a crime scene. She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself upright, forcing her lawyer's composure back into place.
She had court again in a few hours—another case, another client relying on her sharp tongue and iron will. But her mind wasn't on legal strategy. It was on the name that haunted her: Moretti.
Dragging herself into the kitchen, she found Maya perched on a stool, sipping coffee and scrolling through her tablet. "You look like you went ten rounds with insomnia," Maya said without looking up.
Serena grabbed a mug, pouring her own coffee. "Close enough."
"You're not gonna last if you keep chasing shadows." Maya finally glanced up, her dark eyes sharp. "I know that look. You're thinking about digging deeper, aren't you?"
Serena set the mug down with a thud. "I don't have a choice. Santorutto's threats weren't random. He knew about my father. And the Morettis…" She trailed off, swallowing hard. "They're connected somehow."
Maya exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Serena, you're playing with fire. I've worked cases that brushed against that family. Judges looked the other way. Cops suddenly forgot details. Witnesses vanished. That's not coincidence—that's power."
Her warning lingered, but Serena's resolve only hardened. "Then it's time someone stopped letting them scare us."
Later that day, Serena walked through the marble halls of the courthouse, heels echoing with sharp precision. Today's case wasn't as high-profile as Santorutto's trial, but the courtroom still buzzed with energy. Every time she stood to argue, her words carried, cutting cleanly through the defense's half-baked objections.
By the end of the day, her client had tears of gratitude in her eyes. Serena smiled politely, shaking hands, but inside, her thoughts weren't on the victory.
They were on him.
On Dante Moretti.
It was irrational—absurd, even—that her mind would circle back to him. She didn't even know him. A few fleeting encounters. A conversation over dinner. Yet the way he looked at her had left something behind, a mark she couldn't shake.
She tried to bury it under professionalism as she packed her files, but fate wasn't about to let her go so easily.
As she exited the courthouse lobby, she noticed a sleek black car idling by the curb. Its tinted windows reflected the sunlight, giving away nothing of who was inside. But the moment her eyes met the driver's gaze—a stone-faced man in a dark suit—her instincts screamed.
This wasn't random.
Her steps quickened, her bag clutched tighter. She pretended not to notice, weaving into the stream of people leaving the building. But she could feel it: she was being watched.
Across the street, hidden behind tinted glass, Dante sat in the backseat of another car, eyes fixed on her.
She moved like someone aware of danger yet unwilling to show fear. He admired that about her—the quiet strength in her stride, the way her chin lifted slightly higher as if daring the world to strike.
Luca sat beside him, scanning the crowd. "She noticed Marco," he muttered.
"Good," Dante replied calmly. "Let her notice."
"You're baiting her."
Dante's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Exactly. Curiosity will pull her in faster than force ever could."
"She's not like the others, boss. She's… clean. You drag her into this, you might lose her."
Dante's gaze lingered on Serena until she disappeared into the crowd. His voice was low, dangerous. "She was never meant to stay clean. Not with her bloodline."
That evening, Serena sat at her desk in her office, reviewing new briefs, when her phone buzzed. An anonymous number.
She hesitated, thumb hovering, then answered. "Hello?"
A deep, smooth voice responded. "You should be more careful, Serena."
Her breath caught. The voice was unmistakable. "Dante?"
A soft chuckle. "You remembered. I'm flattered."
Every nerve in her body tensed. "How did you get this number?"
"You're a lawyer. You understand—information is power. I make it my business to know the people who interest me."
His words slid into her like a blade wrapped in silk. "You don't know me."
"Oh, but I do." His tone shifted, darker now. "You're chasing ghosts about your father. Digging into files you shouldn't have. Asking questions that put you on dangerous ground. If you're not careful, those questions will bury you."
Serena gripped the phone tighter, fury replacing her fear. "Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning." A pause. "You're too smart not to understand the difference."
The line clicked dead before she could respond.
Serena slammed the phone down, her heart pounding. He knew. He knew about her digging. About her father. About her.
She stood abruptly, pacing the room. How did he know? Why warn her instead of silencing her? Unless… unless he wanted her to keep digging.
The thought unsettled her more than his call.
Meanwhile, in a candlelit restaurant across town, Dante sat at a secluded table, swirling a glass of red wine. His men stood guard outside, ensuring his privacy.
This was his trap. The subtle nudge of fear. The lure of curiosity. Serena would keep chasing answers, and every step would lead her closer to him.
Luca approached, whispering in his ear. "Santorutto's men are restless in prison. Word is, they're planning retaliation for his conviction. They'll come for her."
Dante's jaw tightened. His fingers drummed against the table. "If anyone lays a hand on her, they'll answer to me."
Luca blinked. "To you? Since when do we protect prosecutors?"
Dante's eyes hardened. "Since her blood runs with Vale's name. Since her father died because of ours."
The room seemed to chill with the weight of his admission.
Dante leaned back, a predator waiting for the inevitable. The trap was set. Serena Vale was already walking into it.
And when she finally realized who he was, there would be no turning back.