The soft glow of the phone screen lit up Stephanie’s face as she scrolled through the encrypted files Gianna had sent moments ago.

> “Check the third attachment. Your father’s name is hidden, but look at the shell company tied to the weapon transfers. It’s linked to a cartel in Naples. That same cartel had ties to Antonio Russo.”

Stephanie's breath hitched. Her father’s name wasn’t directly there, but the implication was suffocating. Offshore bank transactions. Shady military-grade imports. And a time stamp dated two weeks before Damian’s brother’s assassination.

“Damn it,” she whispered, gripping the phone tighter.

Still… nothing solid. It wasn't enough to prove he wasn't involved. Or was.

> Stephanie: “This isn’t enough. Keep digging. And send me everything you find on Damian too. I need both sides of this.”

Gianna: “Already on it. But Steph… be careful. If there's really something shady going on. You're in more harm than you think.You could upset some people and Damian will be the least of your worries".

Stephanie : I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.

Gianna : okay, stay safe girl.

Stephanie rubbed a hand over her face. She hadn’t eaten all day, yet the nausea simmered just beneath her ribs. She was unraveling in a world she didn’t even know she’d been born into.A world full of dark secrets and open wounds. She was slowly becoming a stranger in her own house. A pawn in a game of chess..

Then the door slammed open.She hid the phone quickly. deciding not to turn.

She didn’t flinch. She knew who it was.

Damian stood in the doorway, dressed like a predator dark, handsome and cold.— dark blazer, black-on-black shirt, menace in every stride.

“The maids will come to dress you, I expect you won't try last week's stunt again? ,” he said without preamble.

Stephanie raised a brow. “You’re taking me somewhere?”

His gaze narrowed. “To my charity Gala. I want the whole world to see you on my arms. It's high time your father knows that I'm not to be trifled with. Let him know you’re mine now. That should make him tread more carefully.”

Stephanie’s spine stiffened. “You didn't pass as the desperate one. Why the show off? You don't own me, remember?"

Damian stepped closer, his voice low and deadly. ““Ti ho sposata, amore mio, e ora mi appartieni.(I married you, my love, and now you belong to me).You’ll smile tonight. You’ll stand beside me. Or next time, you’ll go in chains.”

Stephanie didn’t break eye contact. “Do you get off on pretending you have power over me?”

He leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “I don’t pretend, mia moglie. I do have power over you".

Her ears tingled where his lips touched. But she said nothing.

---

The gala was all lights, diamonds, and cameras.

Stephanie wore a crimson silk dress, backless and dangerous. Damian’s hand never left her waist, guiding her, possessing her. He whispered threats into her ear between charming conversations with politicians and smugglers in suits.

She smiled when she had to.Like a statue. At a point the smile was frozen in place. Static, dry.

She stayed silent when she wanted to scream.Every click of a camera was another cut in her pride.A stain on her white personality. whispers flew everywhere around her. Whispers of something darker. Something she couldn't quite catch.

And Damian. He was loving every moment of it. He didn't seem petrubed and smiled easily. Stephanie watched him. He could easily have fit into the role of the man of her dreams but he didn't. Not in this situation. Not when she was being held captive. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances...... Probably, then , they could have had something together. something worthwhile. She caught herself. He was her enemy, her father's worst nightmare. She should be looking for ways to end him, not imagining them tangling in sheets together. A sensual mess.

The rest of the night went by in a flash.

They returned home close to midnight.Stephanie pulled off the dress the moment she stepped inside her bedroom, breathing hard like she’d surfaced from drowning. The night had been suffocating ,stifling.

She was exhausted and hot all over. Damian had not cared to make this night easy for her.

ugh!

And then—he entered.Damian. Silent, controlled.

He walked past her without a word and opened the door to the adjoining suite.

She already knew who was inside.The woman he used like a weapon. It wouldn't have mattered if she didn't feel strangely hurt at his antics. If every time, the woman held him ,she didn't feel like dying a thousand times. She wanted him, this man who had turned her life upside down. And he knew it. Else he wouldn't be doing this. Wouldn't be piercing at her defences like this.

He didn't even glance at Stephanie as the brunette rose and kissed him. Stephanie turned her back, rage churning in her chest.He wanted to break her.

But not tonight.She wouldn't give him that.She stood tall, fists clenched, jaw locked, as the sounds of their encounter filled the room like acid. It stirred up emotions deep within her. Emotions she wished would stay buried.

Every breath that left Damian’s mouth lit a fire in her veins—hatred, confusion… and something she hated even more.

Desire.

By the time the woman left, Stephanie was curled on the chaise, facing the fireplace, heart numb.

Damian lingered for a second.But she didn’t turn to look.

Not even when he whispered behind her, “You could be her, if only you'd let yourself surrender" he kissed her temple. She flinched.

Then he was gone.

In his study, Damian poured himself a drink, his shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes glazed with something darker than exhaustion.Stephanie was proving harder to break than he'd thought. But she wouldn't last, He was sure. His tablet vibrated.

Only one person had access to this line. But he was gone. Dead and buried. A single message. No text. Just an image.

He opened it—and the glass slipped from his hand, shattering across the desk.The photo was grainy.A man in a hoodie, face turned just enough toward the camera.The scar.The jawline.The impossible eyes.

It looked like Antonio.

His brother.

Who was Dead. Whom he buried. Who was Shot through the chest right in front of him.

But the man in the image was very much alive.Looked very much alive. And it was a very recent picture. What was going on? What was this? He couldn't even begin to imagine the possibility of this being true. If it was...... NO!

Damian leaned in, knuckles white on the desk, heart pounding like a war drum.

“Che diavolo è questo…?”

No one had an answer to that.