Sylvia and Luke appear to have the perfect life. A thriving fashion startup, a beautiful four-year-old daughter, and a love that began when they met at Harvard Business School. But beneath the surface, Luke hides a dark secret-he's the heir to one o...
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The drive back to the manor fills me with rage and anxiety I have never felt before. Each passing moment seems to stretch endlessly, the road ahead blurring into a hazy mirage. My mind races with thoughts of what lies ahead, the uncertainty gnawing at me like a relentless beast.
We pull up to the entrance, and even from here, I can sense the tension inside. Shadows flit across the windows, the faint hum of urgent conversations reaching my ears. I squeeze Sylvia's hand one last time before we step out, a silent reminder that we are not alone in this.
With Lyria nestled securely in Sylvia's arms, we make our way to the front door. The heavy wooden doors creak open, and we are immediately enveloped by a wave of activity. People rush past, their faces etched with worry and determination, their voices hushed but intense. The air is thick with the scent of fear and desperation, a palpable reminder of the stakes we are facing.
"I heard what happened, is she okay?" My mother runs down the staircase, her face pale with worry.
My heart races as I step into the grand foyer of the manor, the air thick with tension. The sight of more people rushing around, their faces etched with panic, only heightens my anxiety. Sylvia holds our sleeping daughter close to her chest, Lyria's small body clinging to her.
"She's fine, Gianna," Sylvia manages to say through her shaky voice.
My mother reaches us, her eyes wide with concern as she takes in the sight of Lyria's sleeping face. "Thank God," she breathes, placing a comforting hand on Sylvia's arm. "Come, let's get you settled, cara."
"I think we need to talk first, don't you think, Luca?" Enzo looks at us with a very serious look of concern on his face.
I look at Sylvia, silently pleading with her to agree as I rub her back. She just nods at Enzo before he leads us to the library.
As we move further into the manor, the chaos around us is almost overwhelming. Enzo's men are on high alert, their stern faces and hushed conversations only adding to the sense of urgency. I catch snippets of their exchanges – security measures, patrols, lockdown procedures. It feels like we're in a fortress under siege.
Matteo is already busy as we enter the library and take our seats, the atmosphere tense with the urgency of the situation. He stands at the large mahogany desk, papers scattered around him in a chaotic array. His brow is furrowed in concentration. He barks orders into a phone, his voice clipped and authoritative, while his free hand clicks through information on the computer.
Alessandra immediately approaches us as we enter the library, offering comforting words to Sylvia as she sits down on the leather sofa.
