Morning light spilled softly through the curtains of the Romano estate. The chaos of the night before had faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and quiet relief. Alessia was resting upstairs in her own room, her breathing calm, the tension finally gone from her face.
Romano came down the staircase quietly, his steps slow but steady. Damian stood near the window, his gaze fixed outside, his expression unreadable.
Romano spoke first, his voice low but firm. "She's resting. She'll be all right." He paused, then added, "I'll be heading back soon. Take good care of her, Damian. Don't let her get into harm again."
Damian turned to him, his tone steady. "You have my word."
Romano gave a short nod, the lines of worry still etched on his face. "That's all I ask."
He picked up his coat from the chair, glanced once more toward the staircase, and left quietly.
When the door closed behind him, Damian's expression hardened. He knew what he had to do next.
Later that afternoon, Damian's car pulled up outside a grand villa on the outskirts of Milan. The Rossi villa stood silent, its marble walls gleaming under the pale sun.
Though unexpected, it was welcomed.
Inside, Carlo Rossi sat in the lounge, reading through a stack of documents. He looked up when Damian entered, surprise flickering across his face.
"Mr. Moretti," he said, setting the papers aside. "This is unexpected. What brings you here?"
Damian's tone was calm but edged with steel. "Your daughter."
Carlo frowned slightly. "Isabella? What about her?"
Before Damian could answer, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Isabella appeared at the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide. She froze when she saw him.
Carlo turned toward her, confused. "Isabella? What's going on?"
Damian's gaze didn't leave her. "You should ask her that."
Carlo looked between them, his confusion deepening. "What is this about?"
Isabella's voice trembled. "Father, please—"
Damian cut her off, his tone sharp but controlled. "Your daughter has been meddling where she shouldn't. She's crossed a line that can't be ignored."
Carlo's brows furrowed. "Meddling? I don't understand."
"You don't need to," Damian said coldly. "But you should know this — if she continues, she'll drag your name through the mud with hers. And I won't stop it, you know what I mean."
Carlo's confusion turned to unease. "Mr. Moretti, I think there's been some misunderstanding—"
"There's no misunderstanding," Damian interrupted. "Keep her away from my family. That's all you need to do."
He turned to Isabella, his voice dropping lower. "You've been warned. Don't test me again."
Carlo's confusion turned to anger. He turned sharply toward his daughter. "Isabella, what is he talking about?"
She hesitated, her voice breaking. "Father, I… I didn't mean to, it was a mistake"
Carlo's tone rose, sharp and furious. "What mistake… With the Moretti? Do you want to drag this family down?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't mean for it to go that far, I only wanted him to love—"
"Enough!" Damian snapped. "You will not speak to them again. You will not go near them, or even mention their names. Do you understand me?"
Isabella nodded quickly, her voice trembling. "Yes, Father. I promise. I won't go after them anymore."
Carlo turned back to Damian, his tone clipped but respectful. "You have my word, Mr. Moretti. This ends here."
Damian gave a curt nod. He turned and walked out, the echo of his footsteps fading down the marble hall.
Isabella's eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing.
That evening, Damian returned to the Romano estate. The house was quiet, the air warm with the scent of dinner. Alessia was still resting upstairs, the calm after the storm finally settling in.
Damian stood by the terrace, looking out over the city lights. The night was peaceful.
He looked up toward the window where Alessia slept and whispered to himself, "You're safe now."
The city stretched out before him, calm and silent, as the last traces of the storm faded into memory.