Twisted Obsession

50 - Bye, Elly

Athena Luciana Bianchi

After dealing with Federico—hopefully for the last time in my life—Valentin and I returned to the Delacroix manor. The grand estate was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the rhythmic clicking of Valentin's keyboard as he worked tirelessly to crack the coordinates. I paced behind him for a while, the suspense eating at me, but eventually, I settled into a chair with a book I didn't really read. The glow of his monitor illuminated his focused expression, and after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the silence.

"Got it," he said, leaning back with a triumphant grin.

I was at his side in an instant, practically diving onto the couch beside him. Or, rather, on him.

"Where?" I asked eagerly, my heart racing.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, I felt his gaze on me, warm and unflinching. I looked up at him, confused by the silence.

"You're on my lap," he said dryly, one brow arched.

I blinked, realizing my mistake, and scrambled off him with a hasty apology. "Oops."

But he didn't drop his gaze. He kept looking at me, his expression unreadable. "What? Are you gay?" I asked, my voice teasing but my nerves betraying me as I shifted under his scrutiny. "Because when a pretty girl sits on a guy's lap, they don't usually complain," I mumbled.

He rolled his eyes, finally turning back to the screen. I leaned closer to see what he'd found, my eyes scanning the screen. The map displayed a cluster of coordinates marked in vivid red against the faint grid lines.

"It's here," Valentin said, pointing to a name displayed on the screen in bold lettering. "Montenegro. This is the exact location."

Montenegro. The word seemed to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken danger. My mind raced, pulling up fragmented images of the place—postcards I'd seen, stories I'd heard. A picturesque haven for the rich and mysterious, where rugged cliffs plunged into crystal-clear waters, and centuries-old villages clung to the edges of the coastline. It was beautiful, yes, but also remote. Isolated. The kind of place where secrets were safe because there was no one around to uncover them.

I stared at the screen, the coordinates pulsing like a heartbeat. Deep in the Adriatic Sea. Nothing about this felt safe or alluring.

"What about the bank account numbers to the offshore accounts? What did you find?" I asked, my voice tense, my fingers gripping the edge of the couch.

Valentin's hands danced over the keyboard, his focus unbreakable. The light from the screen cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the hard line of his jaw. Data and code scrolled in rapid succession, a chaotic stream of hidden truths and dangerous secrets.

"Got it," he murmured, leaning forward as the screen froze on a list of numbers and corresponding balances.

I inched closer, my breath hitching as the details became clear. The first account showed a balance of €8.4 million. The second—€12.7 million. And it didn't stop there. Row after row of accounts appeared, each containing obscene amounts of money. By the time Valentin scrolled to the final figure, the total had ballooned to over €875 million.

"Where the hell did all this come from?" I asked, my voice low, as if speaking louder would make the numbers even more real.

Valentin's expression darkened. "This isn't just money. It's Lorenzo's power consolidated into raw capital. Smuggling, blackmail,—you name it, he's profited from it. Extortion, money laundering, shady deals with anyone willing to play dirty—this is the financial backbone of his entire operation. Every illegal transaction, every shady connection, feeds into the machine he's built, and it's all hidden behind layers of deception."