The hallway outside her room was heavy with silence.
Guards stood at every corner, eyes lowered, unsure whether to step forward or stay still.
Her father stood by the door — strong, proud, but trembling inside.
He could hear her voice faintly from the other side, soft and gentle, whispering to the same man he had once sworn to destroy.
For the first time in years, the great Don Moretti looked… lost.
A man torn between vengeance and the one thing that mattered most — his daughter.
"Sir," a voice came from behind him. It was Matteo, his most trusted man. "He's still alive… the wound wasn't deep. The bullet missed his heart."
The old man closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "I know."
"Should I finish it?" Matteo asked, his hand already brushing the gun at his side. "He's the enemy's son. If he stays, she'll never let go of him."
Don Moretti didn't answer right away. His eyes softened, glancing through the half-open door. He could see her faintly — sitting beside Lorenzo, her hand on his chest, tears still fresh on her face.
"She's changed," he whispered. "Look at her… when was the last time I saw her smile like that?"
"Boss," Matteo said carefully, "love blinds people. You taught me that yourself. He's using her—"
"No," the old man interrupted, his voice low but firm. "He's not using her. If he was, he would've left her to die instead of taking that bullet."
He turned away, his shoulders heavy. "I know his father. That man has no heart. But his son… he's not him."
"So what do we do?" Matteo asked quietly.
Don Moretti took a long pause before speaking again. "Nothing. Not yet. Let him heal."
Matteo frowned. "You want to keep him alive?"
"For now," the Don said, his eyes darkening. "But if he ever makes her cry again, I'll end this peace with my own hands."
He started walking down the hallway, but Matteo called out softly, "And if she chooses him, Boss? What then?"
The Don stopped, his jaw tightening. "Then I'll have to choose between my blood and my pride."
He looked back at the door once more, the pain in his eyes too deep to hide.
"And God help me, Matteo… I already know which one will win."