The evening sky stretched out like bruised silk, streaked in purples and muted golds, when Serena finally returned home. The courthouse felt etched into her bones, the echo of Santorutto's venomous threats still coiled around her mind like barbed wire. Her heels clicked against the apartment hallway, each step dragging with exhaustion.
But when she opened the door, her weary heart startled.
"Mom?"
A woman with gentle eyes, streaks of silver woven through her dark hair, stood in the living room, fussing with the curtains as if they'd offended her. Mrs. Vale turned, her smile soft yet edged with worry.
"Serena. My darling." She crossed the room quickly and enveloped her daughter in a warm hug. "I couldn't stay away. After hearing about the case… after what that man said to you…" Her voice faltered.
Serena buried her face into her mother's shoulder, inhaling the familiar lavender scent. For the first time that day, the weight of her composure cracked. "I'm fine, Mom. Really."
Her mother drew back, hands gripping Serena's arms as if to anchor her. "Your father would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. I'm staying for a while. That's final."
Serena opened her mouth to argue but stopped. The thought of her mother close — vulnerable yet comforting — twisted her chest. "Okay," she whispered, giving in.
From the kitchen came the sound of laughter. Jade waddled in, her pregnant belly leading the way, holding a plate of strawberries. "Don't worry, Mrs. Vale. We've been watching her like hawks."
Behind her, Maya and Chloe followed, carrying shopping bags and chattering about groceries.
Her mother eyed them fondly but firmly. "You girls shouldn't be carrying this burden. Serena has enough on her plate."
Chloe grinned. "We've been carrying her since law school. We're used to it."
The room filled with warmth — mismatched but real. Yet even as Serena smiled, unease tugged inside her. Santorutto's words still rattled in her bones: Just like your father…
Across town, Dante Moretti leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse office, the city sprawled beneath him like prey waiting to be devoured. The night hummed with distant sirens, but inside his world, silence ruled. Andres stood behind him, sharp in a tailored suit, eyes burning with unspoken questions.
"She doesn't know," Andres said finally.
Dante's jaw flexed. "Not yet."
"You planned every second — meeting her in that courthouse, dropping the watch, the disappearance… She'll get suspicious sooner or later."
Dante turned, the shadow of a smirk on his lips. "Suspicion is good. It sharpens the mind. But what I didn't plan," he admitted quietly, "was the way she looks at me. As if she sees something beyond the mask."
Andres frowned. "That could be dangerous."
Dante's eyes darkened. "Everything about her is dangerous."
The next morning, Serena walked to the café near her office, trying to escape the whirlwind of thoughts. Her mother insisted she take a break from legal documents, and her friends practically shoved her out the door. The café was busy, the aroma of coffee and pastries wrapping the air in a comforting haze.
As she fumbled with her bag near the counter, her files slipped again. Pages scattered across the polished floor. She cursed under her breath.
And then — familiar hands appeared, gathering the papers.
Her pulse skipped. Dante.
Up close, he seemed even more imposing than in the courthouse lobby. His dark hair, swept back with effortless precision. His suit, immaculate. But it was his eyes — deep, unreadable, yet searing — that stole her breath.
"You again," he said smoothly, handing her a file. "We should stop meeting like this. People might talk."
Serena gave a nervous laugh. "Thank you. Twice now, you've rescued my paperwork."
"Maybe fate has a strange sense of humor." His gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
She shifted, trying to steady her voice. "And you are? Still didn't catch your name."
"Dante," he replied easily. "Dante Moretti."
The name rang faintly in her mind, like an echo she couldn't place. "And what do you do, Mr. Moretti?"
He smiled — the kind of smile that concealed more than it revealed. "Import. Export. The kind of work that keeps me on my toes."
She studied him, doubt flickering in her chest. There was power in the way he spoke, a weight that didn't belong to mere business. But before she could press, her phone rang — her mother, reminding her to come home early.
Dante leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Careful who you trust, Serena. This city eats the unprepared alive." Then, with a courteous nod, he was gone — disappearing into the morning crowd as if he'd never been there.
Her breath shivered. What was that supposed to mean?
That evening, Serena returned home to find her mother cooking, Jade complaining about swollen ankles, Maya flipping through legal journals, and Chloe pacing while rehearsing for a job interview. The apartment buzzed with chaotic life, yet Serena's mind was far away, replaying Dante's words.
When she slipped into her bedroom, she noticed a file she hadn't seen in years. Her father's old case documents, tucked into the bottom of a box. She pulled them out, scanning faded names and notes. One name underlined in red caught her eye.
Moretti.
Her blood chilled.
She blinked, heart hammering. Coincidence. It has to be coincidence.
But the memory of Dante's eyes, the weight in his voice, clawed at her thoughts.
From the kitchen, her mother called, "Dinner's ready!"
Serena shoved the file back into the box, her hands trembling. She plastered on a smile and walked out, pretending everything was normal. But in her chest, the first seeds of suspicion bloomed — dark and unrelenting.
And somewhere in the shadows outside their apartment, unseen eyes lingered, watching.