The days dragged on like endless winters. Two mornings had passed since Vincenzo Marino had walked out of the building without warning, and he had not returned. The silence of his absence was louder than his presence had ever been.
For Elena, it felt like the air itself had changed. No longer was there the quiet protection of his gaze, the unspoken promise of safety that came when he entered a room. Now, every shadow felt hostile. Every whisper in the office seemed to carry her name.
And Amara thrived in it.
"Rossi," Amara's sharp voice cut through the hum of typing. She stood across the room, her arms folded, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "You've misfiled these contracts. Again."
Elena blinked. "I—I haven't touched those files yet."
"Don't lie to me," Amara sneered, tossing the folder onto Elena's desk with unnecessary force. Papers scattered like fallen leaves. "Clean it up. Or are countryside girls too clumsy for even that?"
A few employees glanced over, but quickly looked away. No one dared to intervene.
Goldie shot up from her desk, fire blazing in her eyes. "That's enough, Amara! Everyone here knows Elena hasn't touched those files. You're just looking for excuses."
Amara's lips curved into a mocking smile. "And who are you to speak, Goldie? Her guard dog? Careful, or I'll have you both sent packing."
Elena placed a calming hand on Goldie's arm, shaking her head. "It's fine," she whispered, though her throat burned. "Don't make it worse."
But inside, her heart ached. She had thought the city would give her a chance to prove herself. Instead, it was breaking her piece by piece.
---
Later that afternoon, the cruelty continued. Amara "accidentally" spilled coffee across Elena's desk, drenching her notes.
"Oh dear," she said with a mock gasp. "Clumsy me. You'll have to redo all that work. Unless… you're not capable?"
Elena bit her lip until she tasted blood. She wanted to shout, to fight back, but her mother's voice echoed in her memory: "Endure, Elena. The world doesn't show mercy to girls like us."
So she forced a smile, gathered the ruined papers, and said quietly, "I'll redo it."
Goldie slammed her pen on the desk. "Unbelievable! Elena, you don't have to take this—"
"Yes, she does," Amara interrupted smoothly, her eyes glittering. "Because without Mr. Marino here to protect her, she's nothing."
The words sank like knives into Elena's chest.
---
By evening, Elena escaped to the restroom, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the sink, her reflection blurred by tears she refused to let fall.
Why does she hate me so much? What have I done?
But deep down, she knew. It wasn't about her work. It wasn't even about her background. It was about Vincenzo.
And the terrifying truth? Elena didn't even know what she was to him. A boss's kindness? A fleeting interest? Or something more dangerous—something real?
Her heart twisted with questions she couldn't answer.
---
Meanwhile, far from the glittering office towers, Vincenzo sat in the back of his car, mask resting on the seat beside him. The past two days had been consumed by Mafia business—blood, threats, power plays. Yet his mind had been elsewhere the entire time.
Elena's face. Elena's laughter. Elena's pain.
He clenched his jaw. He knew he had stayed away too long. And he could already imagine Amara circling like a vulture in his absence.
I should never have left her unprotected.
The thought struck him harder than any bullet ever could.
---
Back at the office, Amara made one final move that evening. As Elena gathered her bag to leave, Amara blocked her path, lips curling.
"You know, Rossi," she said, her voice sweet but venomous, "maybe you should go back to your fields. The city isn't for girls like you. Men like Vincenzo… they only play with toys before discarding them."
Elena froze, her hand tightening around her bag strap.
Goldie stepped forward, shoving Amara lightly out of the way. "Say one more word and I'll—"
"Goldie, stop," Elena whispered, her voice breaking.
She walked past Amara without another glance, though her heart felt like it was shattering into pieces.
Behind her, Amara smirked in victory.
But she didn't see the storm that was already on its way back—the storm that wore a silver mask in the dark and the face of her beloved CEO by day.