The dining room was illuminated by the soft golden light of an antique chandelier that hung above the long mahogany table. Rain tapped steadily against the tall windows overlooking the gardens, while the scent of rosemary and roasted vegetables lingered in the air. The room had been designed for formal dinners and political gatherings, for dozens of guests and endless conversations, yet tonight only two seats were occupied.

It's been two weeks since her arrival.

Two weeks since she walked into my house carrying nothing but a suitcase and an attitude sharp enough to cut steel.

Two weeks since my carefully organized life began unraveling in ways I still couldn't explain.

The staff had already served the meal and disappeared, leaving us alone.

Across from me, Isabella sat with a hardcover novel resting beside her plate. She had spent the last two weeks exactly as I expected a reserved twenty-three-year-old book lover would spend them—buried in libraries, tucked into corners with a novel in hand, and avoiding social interaction whenever possible.

Most people who came to this estate were fascinated by wealth.

Isabella was fascinated by books.

The library had become her favorite place within days of arriving. Sometimes I passed through and found her curled up in one of the armchairs with an entire stack of novels beside her. Other times she sat near the windows reading while the rest of the world ceased to exist.

She rarely demanded attention, rarely asked for anything, and yet her presence somehow altered the atmosphere of the house.

She closed her book after finishing a page and set it beside her plate.

"The ending was disappointing." she said, making a pouty face.

I glanced up briefly.

"You've been reading that all day." I answered nonchalantly.

"I was hoping it would get better." she replied. "It clearly didn't." I said without looking at her

She sighed dramatically before taking a sip of water.

For a few moments, silence settled comfortably between us. Unlike most people, Isabella never seemed uncomfortable with quiet. She didn't feel the need to fill every second with meaningless conversation.

Then she looked at me thoughtfully.

"So, that's all what you do? she questioned; disappointment was clear in her tone.

"All what?" I frowned slightly, "Gym, Office, and then your idk what kinda daily urgent meetings" she said that without taking breathe.

"Is there anything wrong with it?" I replied calmly

"You're no fun" she said with her pouty face, "At least, I do like to live in real world other than you; who live in her fantasy world" I replied nonchalantly.

she gasped, " I hate you ",

She is finally silent now.

" BTW, do you have a girlfriend? or are you saving yourself for your future wife?" she asked with full interest. I watched her amused expressions and sighed

I continued eating as though she hadn't just asked one of the most annoying questions imaginable. The last thing I needed after a fourteen-hour workday was an interrogation from my younger sister.

"What exactly are you trying to find out?" I asked

She shrugged.

"I'm curious." she said while taking a slow sip of her favorite red grape juice.

"I don't believe in marriage." The answer was simple and honest, at least partially.

Isabella's expression softened slightly.

"Is that because of our parents?" she asked with concern

The question lingered in the air. Outwardly, my expression didn't change. Years of business negotiations had taught me how to keep my face unreadable regardless of what I was thinking.

I didn't answer, I hate this topic, Thankfully, she didn't drag it

"I want you to be happy, Luca." her expression full of concern, she continued quietly. "You've already endured enough pain."

" Finish your dinner, Bella" I said instead of answering her about her sentimental dialogues

"That's the most Luca answer possible." She groaned. I returned my attention to my dinner.

"It wasn't meant to be entertaining. I replied, my eyes still on my plate

A few seconds passed.

Then she pointed her fork at me. "You work too much." she said, faking anger.

I said nothing.

"You sleep too little." Isabella continued. Still nothing." And you haven't smiled once since I got here."

That statement earned a slight arch of my eyebrow.

"Have you been keeping track?" I asked

"Maybe." she shrugged. I shook my head. Perhaps it was because she knew I would never truly be angry with her. Or perhaps she simply didn't care. Either way, she possessed a talent for saying things nobody else would dare say.

The rain continued falling outside while the candles flickered softly between us. Eventually Isabella reached for her book again. Before opening it, she glanced at me one last time.

"I still think you deserve to be happy."

" You-" I was about to give her a comeback when my phone started ringing. I could sense her rolling her eyes and murmuring something against my work.

" Mission accomplished, Boss." A familiar voice came through the line.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the time before replying.

"I'll be there in five minutes" I said, my voice sharp.

Without waiting for another word, I ended the call and rose to my feet. _________________________________________________

Author's POV:

Women in elegant evening dresses circulated between tables, speaking softly with guests and offering drinks. Laughter echoed from distant corners while deals worth millions were negotiated behind half-drawn curtains.

None of it interested him, he wasn't here for entertainment.

He was here for answers.

At the back of the club, beyond the velvet ropes and the guarded corridor, a private VIP booth overlooked the entire floor. The section was reserved for only the most powerful men in the city. Three of them were already waiting, the moment Luca approached, their conversation stopped. One of them immediately stood.

"Mr. Romano."

Luca took his seat without acknowledging the greeting. The gesture alone was enough to remind everyone at the table who held the power. A server appeared beside him.

"Your usual, sir?" he asked politely,

"Water." Luca replied without looking at her face

The woman blinked. Most people ordered expensive liquor. Luca never did during business meetings; His attention belonged on the conversation. Not the drink. As the server disappeared, one of the men leaned forward nervously.

"We didn't expect you to come personally."

Luca rested one arm against the table. "Then you underestimated the situation." his eyes met to one of the men, dark and full of secrets. The man's confidence evaporated instantly.

Fear often encouraged honesty. A folder slid across the table. Luca opened it.

Photographs, financial reports, surveillance images, names, dates, and transactions filled the file, and Luca’s eyes moved across the pages methodically. The deeper he read, the colder his expression became. “So, it’s true.” Nobody answered immediately, and the silence itself was confirmation. Luca closed the file, the sound seeming unusually loud, while around them the club continued as though nothing had happened and music played. Tension tightened like a wire.

One of the men cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “We weren’t certain until last week.” “And now?” Luca asked, his jaw clenched. The man swallowed hard, a shiver running visibly through him before he forced the words out. “Now, we’re sure.” Luca’s gaze lifted slowly, cold and unreadable, and the other three immediately looked uncomfortable. “Aria found the photograph.”

Nobody spoke. “Vincent knows.” Still silence. “And Isabella is beginning to ask questions.” The name seemed to send a ripple of unease through the table, and Luca noticed it instantly, as he always did. One of the older men, in his late fifties, finally spoke, his voice rough with fear. “If the girls discover the truth, everything falls apart.” Luca leaned back against the booth, his expression hardening as a low gasp escaped one of the men beside him.

The red glow from the overhead lights cast shadows across his sharp features.

For several seconds, he simply observed the people sitting across from him.

Weak men.

Nervous men.

"What exactly are you afraid of?" Luca asked quietly.

The oldest man laughed bitterly.

"You already know."

Perhaps he did.

Outside the booth, another burst of laughter echoed through the club. The contrast felt almost absurd. A room full of wealthy people pretending the world was simple. While inside this booth, twenty years of lies threatened to unravel.

The older man lowered his voice.

"When the Russo estate exploded, everyone believed the entire family died."

Luca said nothing.

"The investigation was buried." he said hesitantly.

Another pause.

"The girls were separated."