The autumn light in Milan gleamed coldly off the glass façade of the Rossi Group headquarters. On the top floor, Elisa's office remained empty, its blinds drawn shut like a sightless, silent eye. Power abhors a vacuum, and what Sophia Rossi sensed was not merely a vacuum, but the opportunity she had waited half a lifetime for.
"Massimo, look at me."
Sophia's voice rang out in her son's luxurious downtown apartment, sharp with a long-absent, almost feverish intensity. She wore a tailored navy suit, a pearl necklace replacing her usual softer jewels, her hair in a severe knot. She stood with her back to Massimo, who was sprawled on an Italian leather sofa, distractedly scrolling through social media.
"Mom, I'm listening…" Massimo drawled, his eyes still glued to a post about the latest supercar.
"No, you are not." Sophia turned abruptly, strode to the sofa, and snatched the phone from his hand with surprising speed. "Your sister is gone. She bungled the Phoenix Project and is now hiding in the countryside like a coward, tending to that… that man." Her voice dripped with ice at the mention of Lorenzo. "The Group is being run by old men and bean-counters. This is your chance, Massimo Rossi. You walk through those doors and show them all that the Rossis still have a real man—an heir with vision, who isn't afraid to take risks!"
Massimo finally looked up, his face a mix of youthful confusion and irritation. "Chance? For what? To sit in meetings with old men? Read contracts I don't understand?" He scoffed. "I'm not interested in rocks and old ledgers, Mom. The future is out there—in tech, in venture capital…"
"Then prove it with an investment!" Sophia leaned down, gripping the sofa arms, her eyes locked on his. "You've always complained about lacking seed money, a platform. Now you have one. Your father… I'll handle him. What you need is a project. One that will make your name, that will force the entire board to take notice. A 'Massimo Rossi' project, not 'Elisa's little brother.'"
A flicker of interest crossed Massimo's eyes. Recognition, proof, real power and wealth—these desires, nurtured by a lifetime of indulgence, stirred within him. "What kind of project?"
A secretive smile touched Sophia's lips. The hook was set. "A game-changer. Someone has already paved the way. All it needs is the Rossi name and… a little trust."
The connection was Karl, Sophia's current husband. In the smoky private room of a club, Massimo was introduced to Alessandro Visconti and, "by chance," Carlo Bergamo. The atmosphere was initially strained—Carlo had, after all, publicly accused the Rossis. But Alessandro, with his impeccable manners and the weight of Visconti Bank behind him, smoothed things over effortlessly.
"Competition can be fierce, but true wisdom lies in turning rivals into allies and seizing larger opportunities," Alessandro said, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass, his grey-blue eyes inscrutable in the dim light. "Mr. Bergamo's previous… outbursts stemmed from frustration with an inflexible industry. Now, we have before us a chance to reshape the entire European luxury landscape."
The project he described, "Stella d'Europa," sounded like a dazzling dream: an unprecedented, integrated "luxury raw material and manufacturing ecosystem" spanning Southern Europe and North Africa. Ethically sourced rare leathers and gemstones from North Africa; acquisitions of the finest, nearly extinct artisan workshops in Portugal and Italy; a global certification and distribution center in Malta, utilizing the latest blockchain technology. The projected returns on the slides were dizzying, numbers no traditional jewelry business could hope to match.
"The key is speed and exclusivity," Carlo Bergamo added, now the picture of a contrite former rival eager to share a golden opportunity. "We've secured critical resources, but we need a century-old brand like Rossi for credibility and distribution, and Visconti Bank for capital. Once established, we'll control the narrative for top-tier luxury supply for the next thirty years. And as a co-founder and primary beneficiary…" He looked encouragingly at Massimo. "You won't just be a Rossi heir. You'll be the one writing the new rules."
Alessandro offered an even more "considerate" arrangement: given the Rossi Group's recent "internal instability," to avoid alarming the conservative board and the old Chairman, Massimo could spearhead the initial funding and agreements under the guise of "personal investment" and a "Special Strategic Projects Office." Visconti Bank would provide most of the bridge financing and complex offshore structures, "minimizing Rossi's exposure while ensuring profits flow directly back to strengthen the Group's core assets once the project goes public."
The lure was immense, the design meticulous. The documents were flawless, complete with a "risk assessment" (from a consultancy Alessandro controlled) rating potential downsides as "low-to-medium." And Massimo, swept up in the flattery from Alessandro and Carlo, his mother's fervor, and his own fantasies of glory, was utterly lost.
Persuading Andrea Rossi was easier than Sophia expected, and that fleeting ease occasionally prickled her conscience—a feeling quickly drowned by ambition. Andrea, the gentle scholar, long immersed in his ancient texts and quiet world, was weary of and detached from commercial strife. He loved his daughter Elisa and was grateful for the burdens she carried, but deep down, he harbored regret over his son's idleness and guilt over Sophia's years of resentment.
When Sophia, with tears in her eyes, pleaded that this was "Massimo's last chance," a "century-defining opportunity to strengthen the family and lighten Elisa's future load," and presented the seemingly "perfect" project proposal backed by the "reliable" guarantee of Visconti Bank, Andrea wavered. He saw a long-lost light in his wife's eyes, a rare earnestness in his son (superficial though it was), and the project's stated goal of "preserving traditional craftsmanship," which spoke to his scholar's heart.
"And Vittorio…" Andrea hesitated.
"Father is old, his thinking conservative. The Phoenix failure has made him wary of any major moves," Sophia had her answer ready. "If we achieve results first, present him with facts, he'll only be relieved. This is for the family, Andrea. Do you want the future of Rossi to rest on Elisa's shoulders alone forever? She needs someone to share the load."
Thus, through Sophia's maneuvering, using Andrea's remaining partial authority and the permissions of Massimo's newly created "Special Projects Office," vast sums began to flow—labeled as "strategic investments," "raw material option prepayments," "technical cooperation deposits"—through layers of offshore entities into the black hole of "Stella d'Europa." Initial, modest "returns" even trickled back, "proving" the project's viability, further lulling Andrea and Massimo into complacency.
They carefully navigated around Vittorio's usual oversight, exploiting the old man's preoccupation with the Phoenix leak and Elisa's leave of absence, spending more time at the estate in quiet recuperation. Meanwhile, Sophia disseminated positive whispers within the family and along the board's periphery about "Massimo's newfound maturity" and his "pioneering work for the family's future," cultivating an air of expectation.
The speed and scale of the capital drain soon outstripped Sophia's initial expectations and the limits of Andrea's easy authority. When Massimo first came to her, nervous, saying the project required "one final, crucial injection—the largest yet—or all previous investment would be lost," and the sum in question now skirted the Group's liquidity red line, a chill settled in Sophia's bones.
She contacted Alessandro and Karl immediately. Alessandro's voice on the phone remained calm, reassuring. "Sophia, this is the pivotal moment. Every great endeavor requires courage at the threshold. Visconti Bank can provide additional emergency credit, but it requires a joint pledge against some of Rossi's core assets—standard bank risk protocol, a mere formality. Once the final phase completes and value soars, these pledges become irrelevant. Imagine: Rossi's assets multiplied, not just doubled! Massimo will be a hero. You'll never live in Elisa's shadow again."
Karl echoed the sentiment, stressing the window was closing. Sophia stood at the cliff's edge. Behind her lay the abyss of her son's failure, her own ruined schemes, and eternal subordination to Elisa. Before her lay the gilded cloudscape Alessandro painted. Her hopes for Massimo, her hunger for power, the bitterness of decades—it all crushed her last shreds of reason.
Using connections she had cultivated over years within the family, she began—without Andrea's knowledge (he was growing uneasy, but she placated him with talk of "final-stage confidentiality" and "not distracting Elisa") and completely bypassing Vittorio—to orchestrate the pledging of some of the Rossi Group's most valuable assets: patents for key jewelry brands, ownership of core workshops, even shares from the family trust. All to secure more funding for the bottomless pit.
The documents were forged, the processes illegal, the signatures obtained through deceit and abuse of authority. Sophia gambled like a madwoman, staking the entire Rossi empire on the mirage Alessandro and Carlo had woven—the "Stella d'Europa."
Meanwhile, in San Gimignano, the sun was shining. Elisa had just changed Lorenzo's bandages, and they were discussing how to trace clues about the Phoenix leak in old archives. From downstairs, Maria's laughter and the scent of fresh focaccia floated up.
They had no inkling of what was unfolding in Milan. Unaware that an avalanche capable of burying a century's legacy was building in deadly silence, gathering mass until the moment it would break free.