Morning broke over the Moretti estate with deceptive calm. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, glinting off marble floors and gilded frames. Everything looked untouched, serene — as if the world hadn't shifted overnight.
Clara Bianchi arrived early, as she always did. She moved through the quiet halls, her heels clicking softly, her mind already on the day's schedule. Mrs. Moretti had a luncheon planned with the foundation board, followed by a private meeting with the gallery curator.
But the house was too quiet.
She paused outside Alessia's suite and knocked gently. No answer. She tried again, then opened the door slightly. The room was immaculate — the bed untouched, the curtains drawn back, the faint scent of Alessia's perfume lingering in the air.
Clara frowned.
She checked the terrace, the salon, and the library. Nothing.
By the time she reached the main hall, a knot had formed in her chest. She turned to one of the guards stationed near the entrance.
"Did Mrs. Moretti leave last night?"
The guard hesitated. "Yes, ma'am. She said she was going to the hospital. Something about her father."
Clara's heart dropped. "The hospital?"
"Yes. The Romano's Private Hospital. She left alone."
Clara's mind raced. She pulled out her phone and dialed the hospital immediately.
The receptionist answered on the first ring.
"This is Clara Bianchi from the Moretti estate, I'm calling to confirm something. Mrs. Alessia Moretti left the estate last night after receiving a message about her father. She said there was an emergency. Is she at the hospital and did anyone from the hospital contact her?"
The receptionist paused. "No, ma'am. We haven't reached out to Mrs. Moretti or to Mr. Romano. In fact, there's been no emergency here at all."
Clara's breath caught. "Are you certain?"
"Completely, ma'am. There's been no incident."
Clara's hand tightened around the phone. "Thank you."
She ended the call and stood frozen for a moment, the weight of realization sinking in. The message Alessia had received was a lie.
Then she turned sharply toward the guard. "Who cleared her to leave?"
He straightened. "She gave the order herself. We didn't question it."
Clara's pulse quickened. "And no one followed her?"
"She insisted she didn't need an escort."
At Romano Private Hospital, the receptionist sat at her desk, uneasy. The call from the Moretti estate had left her unsettled. She decided to reach out directly.
She picked up the phone and dialed the private number listed under Romano.
The line connected after two rings.
"Romano," came the deep, steady voice.
"Good morning, sir. I'm calling from the hospital. I'm sorry to disturb you, but we received a call from the Moretti estate. They said Mrs. Moretti left last night after receiving a message about you. We just wanted to confirm that everything is all right."
Giovanni's tone was calm but sharp. "Everything's fine. I was only tired last night. There was no emergency."
He paused. "Why would she think otherwise?"
The receptionist hesitated. "We don't know, sir. But the estate sounded worried."
Giovanni's voice hardened. "Thank you."
He ended the call and immediately dialed his daughter's number. It rang once, then went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Still nothing.
His jaw tightened. He knew Alessia — she would never ignore his call.
He grabbed his phone again and dialed another number.
At the Moretti estate, Damian Moretti had just returned from Milan. The gates opened for his convoy, and he stepped out, his expression unreadable. Clara was waiting at the entrance, pale and shaken.
He stepped out of the car, his expression unreadable. "What's going on?"
Clara's voice faltered. "It's Mrs. Alessia, sir… she's missing."
The words hung in the air like a blow.
Damian's eyes darkened. "Missing?"
"She received a message last night — about her father. She left for Romano Private Hospital, but she never arrived."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he turned toward his security chief. "Get the footage. Every camera, every gate, every road. Now."
The command was quiet, but it carried the weight of steel.
Within minutes, the control room filled with movement. Screens flickered with images of the estate's perimeter, the long driveway, and the main gate.
"There," one of the guards said, pointing. Alessia's car appeared on the screen, gliding through the gates. The timestamp read 8:47 p.m.
Damian leaned closer. "Zoom in."
The footage showed her car turning onto the main road — and then nothing. The next camera, positioned at the outer checkpoint, never caught her passing.
"She vanished between the estate and the highway," the guard said quietly.
Damian's jaw tightened. "That's five minutes."
Before he could say another word, his phone rang. The caller ID flashed Romano.
He answered immediately. "Romano."
"Damian," Romano's voice was sharp, controlled. "The hospital just called me. They said Alessia left the estate last night after receiving a message about me. I've been trying to reach her — her phone is off. What's going on?"
Damian exhaled slowly. "She's missing. We're reviewing the footage now."
Romano's tone dropped to a growl. "Someone used my name to take her."
"Yes."
The silence that followed was heavy, dangerous.
Romano's voice came through again, low and lethal. "Find her, Damian. Whatever it takes."
Damian's reply was just as cold. "I will."
He ended the call and turned to his men. "Lock down the estate. No one leaves, no one enters. I want every second of footage analyzed. Find out who sent that message."
He paused, his eyes dark with fury. "And find my wife."
Far from the estate, Alessia sat in the dim warehouse, her wrists bound, her head heavy. The faint sound of footsteps echoed outside the door.
She didn't know that her father and her husband were both tearing the city apart to find her.
And somewhere in the shadows, the woman who had taken her smiled, knowing the storm she had just unleashed.