The rain had stopped by the time they reached the outskirts of Naples. The world outside the car was washed clean, but inside, the silence between them was thick and unyielding.
Alessia sat rigid in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Damian drove without a word, his face carved from stone, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.
They had left the safehouse hours ago. She hadn't asked where they were going—she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Every mile that passed felt like a thread unraveling between them.
When the car finally slowed, she looked up. They were in front of the Romano estate. The gates were open, the guards uneasy. Damian's men spread out silently, their presence heavy with tension.
Alessia's pulse quickened. "Damian, please—just talk to him first."
He didn't answer.
Inside, the house was dimly lit. Romano stood behind his desk, calm but wary, his eyes flicking between his daughter and the man beside her.
"So," he said, his voice steady, "you finally came."
Damian's tone was ice. "You made it easy. You left a trail."
Romano's brow furrowed. "A trail?"
Damian tossed the folder onto the desk. "Bank transfers. Meetings. Your signature."
Romano opened the folder, scanning the documents. His expression didn't change, but his voice hardened. "This isn't mine."
Alessia stepped forward. "Papa, tell him the truth."
Romano looked at her, then at Damian.
"Someone forged this. Whoever did it wanted you to believe it was me."
Damian's jaw tightened. "Convenient."
Romano's eyes flashed. "You think I'd risk my daughter's life to get to you? You think I'd be that stupid?"
The room fell silent.
Damian's gaze flicked to Alessia, then back to Romano. "If not you, then who?"
Romano's voice dropped, calm but cold. "That's your problem to solve, Moretti. But I'll tell you this—whoever did this knows both our families too well."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Damian's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted—doubt, calculation, the first crack in his certainty.
Romano turned to Alessia. "You shouldn't have come here. This isn't your fight."
"It became mine the moment they tried to kill me," she said quietly.
Romano's gaze softened for a moment, then hardened again. "Then you'd better learn fast who benefits from this war. Because it isn't me."
Damian said nothing. He turned and walked out, his silence more dangerous than any threat. Alessia followed, her heart pounding.
The drive back was suffocating. The rain began again, soft and relentless, tapping against the windshield like a heartbeat.
Finally, Alessia spoke. "You don't believe him?"
Damian's eyes stayed on the road. "I don't trust him. But something doesn't fit."
"What do you mean?"
"The transfers. The timing. Romano's accounts were clean until a week before the hit. Then suddenly, money moves through one of my shell companies before it reaches his name."
Alessia frowned. "So someone wanted it to look like him."
He nodded slowly. "Someone who knows my system. My people."
The realization settled between them like a shadow neither wanted to name.
Alessia turned toward the window, her reflection pale against the glass. "Then whoever it is… they're close."
Damian's grip tightened on the wheel. "Too close."
The rest of the drive passed in silence. The storm outside mirrored the one building inside them—dark, inevitable, waiting to break.
And when it did, it wouldn't just reveal a traitor.
It would destroy everything they thought they knew.