The servant beside me flinched.I didn’t.We’d both heard worse.
I forced myself down the stairs.Halfway to the landing, I stopped.My father stood at the center of the study, immaculate as ever—suit pressed, hair neat, control restored—but the tremor in his hand betrayed him.A thin line of blood marked the lip of the man kneeling before him.
My father turned.His eyes found mine.The glass lowered.“Up so early, honey?”
“I heard voices.”
He dismissed the guards with a flick of his wrist.When the door shut, the silence pressed closer.“You’ve put yourself in danger.”
“What danger?”
“You think you can meet with men like him, and not draw attention?There are eyes everywhere,Mia.Eyes that care whose daughter you are.And right now, we are fighting off enemies who will stop at nothing to tarnish the Moretti name.”
“I didn’t—” I stopped.Lying would insult us both.“I didn’t plan it.”
He laughed once.“That’s what makes it worse.”
He poured another drink, not looking at me.“Do you know what happens when men like Di Fiore start looking at women like you?”
I held his gaze.“Yes.”
He froze, glass halfway to his lips.The honesty caught him off guard.
I took another step.“You taught me to recognize danger.”
For a heartbeat, I thought he might strike me.Instead, he only nodded—sharp, restrained—and said quietly, “Then you know what happens next.”
He turned away, leaving the half-empty glass behind on the desk.I stared at it until the last ripple of amber stilled, and the house went silent again.
He didn’t raise his voice.He didn’t have to.
I went upstairs to shower and give him some space to calm down.My father knew how powerful the Di Fiore family was and dismissing him would cause more problems.He might be okay with death, but I’d like to live my life.
The door to my father’s study was still ajar when I returned.He sat behind the desk, the chaos from earlier erased — no glass, no blood, only order restored.That was his gift: cleaning the scene before anyone could smell the ruin.
“Come in,” he said without looking up.
I stepped inside and shut the door.“You knew.”
He glanced up.“About what?”
“About Enrico.”
The words fell heavy between us.“You knew he came.”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers.“What I know is that you’ve put yourself at the center of a conflict you don’t understand.”
“I understand you’ve already made a deal.”
That got his attention.His gaze sharpened, the faintest twitch in his jaw.“Who told you that?”
“You did.Every time you warned me about him.Every time you tell me peace comes at a price.”
I crossed the room, stopping at the edge of the desk.“I finally realized who’s paying for it.Even if you kept lying to me.”
His silence confirmed it.
“You bartered me.For safety.For business.For peace.”
