The Test of Fire
The summons came without ceremony.
No warning. No explanation.
Ava was in the east sitting room when Sofia entered, her expression composed but her movements were brisk–too brisk.
"Signora," she said quietly, "you are requested in the main reception hall."
"By whom?" Ava asked, already rising.
Sofia hesitated for half a second too long. "Guests."
That was all Ava needed to hear.
The reception hall had been prepared with meticulous intent. The long marble floors gleamed beneath the chandeliers, every surface polished to perfection. Guards lined the walls and she noticed they were more than usual. Too many for a casual visit.
Alessandro stood near the far end of the room, his posture relaxed but alert, dressed in a dark suit that radiated authority. He looked composed, controlled but when his gaze met Ava's, something shifted. A silent acknowledgment passed between them.
This is it.
Across from him stood three men Ava had never seen before.
They were dressed impeccably, but their refinement carried a sharper edge–predatory rather than elegant. Their smiles were practiced, their eyes calculating. Power without restraint.
Rivals.
"Ava," Alessandro said calmly, extending a hand. "Come here."
She did not hesitate.
As she moved to his side, she felt every gaze lock onto her–assessing, weighing, dissecting. She stood straight, chin lifted, her expression neutral.
Unyielding.
"Gentlemen," Alessandro continued, his voice smooth, "this is my wife."
One of the men, a tall figure with silver at his temples and a gaze that lingered too long inclined his head slightly.
"Of course," he said. "We've heard so much about her."
Ava met his gaze directly. "I'm sure you have."
The man's smile sharpened.
"Bold," he murmured. "Not what we expected."
"Expectations are dangerous," Ava replied calmly. "They limit perception."
A brief silence followed.
Alessandro did not interrupt.
He let it stand.
The silver-haired man chuckled softly. "You see why rumors spread."
"Rumors are for people without access," Alessandro replied coolly. "You're here because you wanted clarity."
"Indeed," another man said. "Recent events have caused… uncertainty."
"Caused by your overreach," Alessandro corrected.
Ava remained silent, but she felt the tension rise–tight, coiled, ready to snap.
"We're concerned," the silver-haired man said smoothly, "about how personal matters are influencing business decisions."
Ava understood immediately.
This was the test.
They weren't here to threaten Alessandro.
They were here to test her.
"And yet," Ava said calmly, stepping forward half a pace, "business has never been more stable."
All eyes turned to her.
"You speak for him?" the man asked.
"I speak with him," Ava replied. "There's a difference."
Alessandro's presence at her back was unwavering. He did not pull her away. He did not silence her.
He let her stand.
"Stability built on fear is fragile," Ava continued. "What you're seeing now is recalibration. That unsettles people who benefit from chaos."
The men exchanged glances.
"You're remarkably informed," one said.
"I listen," Ava replied. "And I don't confuse intimidation with intelligence."
That landed.
The silver-haired man smiled thinly. "Careful, Signora. Words can be misinterpreted."
"So can intentions," Ava replied. "And yours are quite transparent."
A beat passed.
Then Alessandro spoke.
"My wife is not a leverage," he said calmly. "She is not a variable to be managed. And any attempt to test that assumption will be… corrected."
The word corrected echoed through the room like a blade sliding into place.
Silence.
Finally, the silver-haired man nodded slowly. "Understood."
The meeting ended shortly after polite farewells, measured exits, controlled restraint.
When the doors finally closed behind them, the room seemed to exhale.
Ava's pulse thundered in her ears.
Alessandro turned to her.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly, "You didn't hesitate."
"I knew what they wanted," Ava replied. "And I refused to give it to them."
"They wanted you to falter," he said. "To create doubt."
"Did I?" she asked.
"No," he said. "You did the opposite."
His gaze held hers–intense, unreadable, something dangerously close to admiration beneath the surface.
"They'll talk," he continued. "They'll speculate."
"Then let them," Ava replied. "They already were."
He nodded once. "That was the test."
"And?" she asked.
"You passed," Alessandro said.
The words carried weight far beyond approval.
That night, Ava lay awake again but this time, not from fear.
From certainty.
She had stood in the fire.
And she had not burned.
The fault lines were no longer theoretical.
They were active.
And as the world beyond the estate recalibrated around the truth they had just witnessed, Ava understood something with chilling clarity:
The next test would not be verbal.
It would be violent.
And when it came, there would be no room left for neutrality at all.