Elisa stood beneath the spotlight, her gaze calmly piercing through the camera lens as if meeting the eyes of every witness to this moment. She began to speak, her voice clear, steady, yet carrying a cold weight that cut through the lingering warmth of Alessandro's earlier remarks.
"Thank you for Signor Visconti's speech, and for his profound insights into 'difficult choices' and 'the best answers.'" Her tone was neutral, neither praising nor condemning. "That leads perfectly into my theme today—about choices, about answers, and especially about the true cost and truth behind choices carefully disguised as the 'only way forward.'"
Alessandro's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. The self-satisfied smile froze on his lips. A thread of icy unease, fine as a spider's silk, crept silently up his spine. Her tone felt wrong—too calm, too detached. This was not the opening of someone about to accept a fateful arrangement.
San Gimignano, the bakery living room.
Everyone held their breath. Maria's knuckles were white, Gianluigi leaned forward, Sofia covered her mouth, and Massimo's eyes were wide. Lorenzo remained ramrod straight, but something began to kindle slowly in his steady eyes.
Milan, a private hospital VIP suite.
Vittorio Rossi sat propped up in his hospital bed, a large screen on the wall broadcasting the press conference. Monitors were attached to him, but his spirit seemed alert. When Elisa spoke of "cost and truth," his gray eyebrows lifted slightly, his thin fingers tapping lightly on the blanket.
Elisa continued, "Over the past months, the Rossi Group has endured a catastrophe. The failure of the 'Stella d'Europa' project, massive debt, judicial investigations, ultimately leading to administration. The public saw the collapse of a family business, a tragedy possibly caused by flawed business decisions."
She paused briefly, her gaze sweeping over the now-altering expression of the "Luce d'Europa" CEO before finally settling on Alessandro Visconti. That gaze was no longer placidly calm; it was sharp as a scalpel.
"But today, here, before many witnesses, I must state that this was not a simple tragedy or error." Her voice rose a notch, carrying undeniable force. "It was a meticulously planned, multi-party conspiracy—a hunt that began months ago!"
A wave of shock rippled through the audience. Cameras swiveled frantically from Elisa to the suddenly pale faces of Alessandro and the "Luce d'Europa" CEO.
Alessandro's smile vanished completely. Shock hammered into his chest. He had not anticipated this—not here, not in this way. How dare she? Did she not care about her father? About the Rossi Group's future? Fury surged hot on its heels, burning his reason. This ungrateful woman. She dared to tear off the mask in public.
"The targets of this hunt were the Rossi Group's core assets, brand value, and control," Elisa pressed on, ignoring the growing commotion, her voice growing more resonant. "And the hunters included, at minimum, the 'Luce d'Europa' Capital on this stage, and…"
She paused again, her gaze like an ice pick pinning Alessandro's abruptly lifted face.
"…and those who have consistently presented themselves as 'friends' and 'potential saviors'—Visconti Bank, and its heir, Signor Alessandro Visconti."
Chaos erupted. Gasps, exclamations, the scrape of chairs filled the air. Camera flashes illuminated Alessandro's livid, bloodless face. He shot to his feet, the movement so violent his chair nearly toppled. He understood now. All of it. Her previous silence, cooperation, even her "need to consider" that night at the restaurant—all an act. She had never intended to accept his terms. She had been investigating in secret, waiting for this very moment when he felt most secure, his guard lowest, to deliver the fatal blow.
"Elisa! Do you have any idea what you're saying?!" Alessandro's voice was a strained, inelegant shout, his composure shattered, his face a mask of shock, rage, and betrayed fury.
"I know exactly," Elisa's voice, amplified, cut through the din. "I have evidence."
Those three words doused some of the noise like ice water. All eyes turned to her.
Elisa drew a thin folder from beneath the podium. She did not open it, merely held it aloft.
"Here is a summary of part of the evidence chain, gathered over recent months through legal and compliant channels. It includes: traces of concealed financing from a Visconti Bank-affiliated fund, via multi-layered complex structures, to the main project counterparty 'Luce d'Europa' Capital during the critical phase of 'Stella d'Europa'; records of 'Luce d'Europa' Capital using these funds and internal information to maliciously manipulate bids, spread disinformation, and disrupt project progress; and, more critically—"
She looked back at Alessandro, her gaze cold as an abyss.
"—an analysis of the operational pattern to exploit the Rossi Group's expansion pressures at the time and Andrea Rossi's passion for art projects, designing complex financial traps, inducing and forging key documents, artificially creating and amplifying the group's financial vulnerabilities, ultimately pushing it toward the brink of bankruptcy. This includes several documents bearing my father's signature, which professional analysis suggests are suspected forgeries."
"Slander! Forgeries! These are lies!" Alessandro trembled with rage, his face flushing dark red. His assistants and lawyers rose hastily behind him, trying to calm him, signaling Visconti personnel in the room to contain the situation.
But Elisa was not finished.
"Today's so-called 'settlement and cooperation' ceremony," she raised her voice above the growing clamor, "is essentially a move by the hunters to legitimize illicit gains and further erode the Rossi Group's remaining value. They attempt to use a glossy contract to conceal the plunder and fraud behind it!"
The "Luce d'Europa" CEO was ashen, mopping his brow, speaking rapidly to those beside him.
In San Gimignano, the bakery erupted with incredulous shouts and excited voices.
"My God! Is she telling the truth?"
"Sue them! Sue the bastards!"
Maria wept tears of fierce emotion, clutching Gianluigi. Sofia slumped on the sofa, murmuring, "She really… she really was…" Massimo pumped his fist at the TV. "Sis! That's awesome!"
Lorenzo slowly, slowly let out a breath. His tensed shoulders relaxed a barely perceptible millimeter. Watching the woman at the eye of the storm, who seemed to radiate a formidable light, the kindled light in his eyes finally transformed into an emotion as deep as the sea. The faintest curve, one of immense pride, touched the corner of his mouth.
In the hospital room, Vittorio Rossi straightened sharply. His aged eyes, having seen countless storms, blazed with startling intensity as he stared at his granddaughter's upright figure on screen. A fit of coughing seized him, startling the nurse who rushed forward, only to be waved off. He coughed, watching, a complex expression of fierce joy, pain, and pride slowly spreading across his face. "Good… good… That's what the heir to the Rossi Group should be!" he rasped, his fingers gripping the blanket tightly, knuckles white.
The venue descended into complete pandemonium. Security moved in to restore order. Journalists pushed forward, desperate to capture Alessandro and the "Luce d'Europa" CEO at their most vulnerable. The organizers panicked, trying to cut the live feed, but it was too late.
Elisa stood behind the podium, a lone rock against a tidal wave of chaos. She watched as Alessandro was half-pushed, half-urged by his entourage toward an exit, meeting his gaze—a look of pure, venomous hatred and shocked fury that promised retribution.
But in this moment, the truth had been ripped open by her own hand, exposed to the light.
She slowly raised her left hand, her fingertips lightly brushing the cool platinum circle on her ring finger. Then, facing the camera, facing countless eyes filled with shock, anger, elation, or confusion, she spoke one last sentence with absolute clarity:
"The Rossi family, and all harmed by this conspiracy, will pursue this to the end. The law will deliver a just verdict. And today is only the beginning."
With those words, she looked at no one else. Turning, accompanied by Anna and her swiftly advancing security team, she walked away from the podium with steady steps, leaving behind the battlefield she had personally detonated, amidst a sea of roaring tumult and blinding camera flashes.
The live feed cut amid the chaos. But the prelude to judgment had been drawn by her in the most resolute, most sensational way. Alessandro's moment of triumph had become the beginning of his worst nightmare. And in the small-town bakery far away, amidst jubilant cheers and tears, they knew their Elisa had never betrayed them.