The photo shook violently in my hand.

There it was – the curve of my jaw, the thin glint of my father's crucifix against my chest. And behind me, faint but true, a figure.

A silhouette

Inside my room.

I dropped the photo.”This is impossible,” I whispered.

Sophia's face was expressionless, her lawyer's poise was weakened. “No, Abigail. This was planned. Whoever is watching you isn't doing it from the dark anymore. They're inside.”

Lucky snatched the photo from my hand and cursed under his breath. His hand went straight to the gun at his hip. “I should've been more careful and doubled the guards.”

“No,” I snapped, though fear was still inside me. “This isn't about the guards. This is someone close. Someone who knows the estate well. Who knows me?”

My chest was stiff.

My voice was sharper than I intended. “Lock the estate down. No one leaves without my permission.”

Lucky nodded sharply and stormed out, shouting orders.

Sophia leaned closer, her voice was low. “Abigail, this isn't just intimidation. This is a message. They're telling you they can get you anywhere, even in the place you think it's safe.”

I move my hand steadily on the desk. She was right. This wasn't about surveillance– it was a physical war. A trap to bend till I break.

But if I had learned anything since my father's death, it was this: I could weaponise fear

I lifted my gaze to Sophia. “Then let's set our own trap.”

That night the villa was silent, too quiet. Shadows stretched long across the marble floors, and every creaky sound of the house sent shivers down my spine.

I stood intentionally in my room by the window where the photograph had captured me. The crucifix around my neck felt heavier than usual.

My heart was pounding, and I could hear my heartbeat loudly. Raphael's voice echoed in my memory: “You're walking into fire, Abigail.

And maybe I was. But I wasn't going to burn alone.

Lucky's voice steadied in the earpiece hidden under my hair. “We're in position. The east wing is covered. The north wing is clear.”

I didn't respond. My role was simple: Bait.

I poured myself a cup of warm coffee, pretending as if everything was normal. I hummed slowly even if my heart was burning.

Suddenly I jerked slowly—A sound behind me.

It was soft and sounded like a tiptoe.

I turned slowly, my hand brushing the drawer where my father's pistol was hidden.

“Who's there?” I asked, my voice pierced through the silence.

A figure stepped from the shadows near my wardrobe.

Matteo.

My breath seized.

He looked…torn and broken. His hair was scattered and he looked unkempt, his eyes were blood red and he held no weapon, only his hands raised slightly in surrender.

“Donna,” he said slowly. “It's not what you think.”

Lucky's voice shot into my hair. “Say the word and I'll end him.”

But I ignored it.”You were in my room,” I said slowly.”

His lips parted, but he was silent. His silence was louder than any confession.

“You betrayed me,” I whispered.

Finally, he spoke, his voice slightly breaking. “No, I tried to protect you. But they….they forced me. “His gaze lowered to the crucifix on my neck.” I swear on your father's grave, I never meant to harm you.”

The words pierced me deeper than I expected. My father's grave. My father, who had trusted men like Raphael, like Vincenzo – and paid with his life.

Desire whispered in me. Should I believe him? He's the boy who brought me pastries. The boy who treated me like a sister. The boy who had lived in the estate like family since my father took him and his sister in when they were orphaned.

Fear swelled in me: Mercy will end you. He's just another liar who will tear you apart.

“Who sent you?” I asked, shivering.

His body shook. He was scared and I could feel it.

“It's okay Matteo, tell me who sent you, I won't hurt you.”

“They have my sister,” They'll kill her. They said if I didn't show them where you sleep–they’ll cut her into pieces.” He wept out loudly.”I don't want my sister to die, I didn't intend to, I'm sorry, forgive me, Donna.”

My chest was stiff. He was telling the truth– I could feel it, his fear was real.

But I raised my hands, trembling and silencing him.

I realized he had also been used as bait, if Vincenzo had his sister, then he wasn't the real spy.

Which actually meant the real spy was still inside the estate.

“Get up,” I ordered.

Matteo obeyed slowly, his hands shaking.”Donna..”

“Stand up and look me in the eyes.”

He did. And for the first time, I saw that he was not the servant boy I knew anymore, but a boy who found himself being controlled, just like I was–controlled by men like Vincenzo, Raphael, all of them.

I wanted to reach him and tell him that I understood. To tell him that we were the same.

But before I could speak.

The window shattered.

A shot rang through the air, and whistled past my ear, digging a spot in the wall behind me.

Matteo grabbed me and shoved me to the floor. “Get down.”

Lucky hurriedly burst into the room, gun blazing. Sophia screamed at the top of her voice. The glass shattered. Bullets rained in the room piercing multiple holes into the walls.

By the time he recovered from the sudden shock that had built up in me the shooter was gone, melted back into the night.

Matteo screamed. He was hit, and the bullet had pierced his chest.

“No,” I gasped, dropping beside him.”No, Matteo, No…No.. please..stay with me.”

I shook him visibly, his eyes opened weakly, and his voice was faint. “I told you…I'd protect you.” Blood spluttered out of his mouth as he spoke.

His eyes closed.

******

Minutes elapsed into hours

Doctors rushed in. Guards flocked to the grounds. But the truth can not be denied–someone inside had betrayed me.

Matteo whether he was a traitor or not. Had taken the bullet meant for me.

I sat in my father's office afterwards, blood stains on my hands. Lucky paces impatiently round the room, his head bent in disdain.

Sophia was smoking near the window.

“They wanted to send a message,” Lucky mumbled. They don't care who dies as long as you feel like a coward.

But I wasn't listening to him. My mind was spinning, Matteo's words were still plastered in it.

They have my sister.

My father's crucifix pressed heavily on my chest. And I made another promise.

I would not be broken.

I would find the traitor, I would rescue Matteo's sister. And when the right time comes I would make the men bend and bow for me.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me.

I stared at the door as it flung open.

Raphael stepped in, his face was blank. He looked at the bloodstains on my hand, the shattered window, and the chaos.

And for the first time, I noticed his composure faltered

“You almost died tonight,” He said, fixing a weak gaze on me.

“Almost isn't enough,” I replied coldly.

He stared at me and it made my heartbeat quickened–not with fear but with something deeper.

“Careful Abby,” he muttered, coming closer. “You're starting to look like someone I could love.”

I was stiff, torn between my rising heartbeat and the shivers in my spine.

Before I could reply, Lucky barged in. We've got movement,” he barked. “Cars pulling up the south gate.”

Raphael's lips curved into a knowing smile. “Then it seems the night isn't over.”

I rose slowly, tension rising in my heart, with the crucifix getting heavier on my chest.

“No,” I whispered, “the war had just begun.”