Rome — Villa Miani, 1:14 AM
"She's gone."
Matteo's voice wasn't loud, but the tension it carried cracked through the glass-paneled walls of Salvatore's study like lightning on dry wood. The room fell silent except for the ticking of an antique clock hanging over dark walnut shelves. The party still roared downstairs, but up here — blood was beginning to boil.
Salvatore DeLuca turned to his eldest son, eyes unblinking. In his hand, a glass of untouched Negroni. Behind him, the family portrait hung crooked.
"What do you mean... 'gone'?" His voice was low. Dangerous.
Matteo exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temple. "She ran. With the masked man. I… I tried to follow, but they slipped out through a side corridor."
"And you let her go?"
Matteo stayed silent. Guilt and anger wrestled in his gut.
Salvatore stood, slow and deliberate. He wasn't a tall man, but every step he took made the floor seem smaller. His presence was a storm — controlled, but lethal.
"I trusted you tonight. You — not Luca, not the guards. You. And now, she's gone."
"Father, I—"
"Don't speak."
Matteo froze.
"I let you handle the North. I looked the other way when you played with your enemies' emotions. But this — this was family. And you let the only DeLuca heir walk out with secrets in her clutch!"
"If she found out about the Montaldo deal, then whose fault is that?" Matteo's voice rose. "She's not a doll, Father! Ariella's a woman. She deserves to know."
Salvatore slammed his fist against the desk. "No one in this family deserves to know everything!"
Silence swallowed the room.
Matteo's jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell with a fury he couldn't contain. "You're afraid. Afraid the truth from fifteen years ago will surface. Afraid they'll all know who you really are."
Salvatore stepped closer, his voice now quiet — like a knife drawn in the dark.
"If it wasn't for me, you'd have died in the first crossfire. Never forget who shielded you. Who kept Ariella out of this world. And who had to sacrifice one name… to save an entire legacy."
Matteo looked away, the fire in his chest now a silent storm.
Salvatore took a sip of his drink. Cold.
"Find her. Before the rest of the world does."
En Route — Autostrada A1, Toward Siena
Kael drove in silence. Streetlights flickered against the windshield, marking time like a metronome guiding Ariella further from everything she once knew. The Maserati hummed steadily, cutting through the night like a whisper.
Ariella leaned against the window, the files still clutched in her lap. Her hands no longer shook, but her heart hadn't stopped racing. She was weighing everything — trust or retreat.
"How much longer?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"Two hours. If we don't hit a checkpoint," Kael replied, eyes on the road.
He drove fast, but with precision — like he knew every crack in the highway, every escape route carved into memory.
"You do this often?" she asked again.
"Do what?"
"Rescue someone's daughter and drive them into the countryside?"
Kael let out a dry chuckle. "You chased the fire. I just caught you when you fell."
She studied his profile. Cold. Composed. But every word he uttered felt like it had been buried deep for years.
"I want to know something."
"Ask."
"Who were you… before tonight?"
He didn't answer right away. Then, slowly, his story unfolded.
"I was the son of a man who once believed he could unite the Morreti and DeLuca families. My father believed in honor. But the deal never happened. Salvatore… he saved his empire with a betrayal."
Ariella said nothing.
"My father was killed. Labeled an accident. But I know who planned it. Since I was fifteen, I lost everything — my name, my home, my blood."
He exhaled.
"And tonight… I'm just doing one thing. Ending the cycle they began fifteen years ago."
Ariella's heart clenched. "So this is revenge?"
"No. This is truth."
Silence fell again — but not an empty one. It carried weight, like secrets finally free.
Suddenly, headlights flashed behind them. Fast. Too fast.
Kael checked the rearview mirror. "Hold on."
Ariella clipped her seatbelt. "Kael…"
"Don't panic."
An SUV tailed them. Kael switched lanes, pressed the pedal. The Maserati surged forward, tires gripping the wet asphalt.
"One car only?" she asked.
"For now. They're testing. Want to confirm you're inside."
The SUV closed in. Kael swerved off to a rural exit — a narrow lane marked by a worn-out sign: Colle di Val d'Elsa.
Dark woods. No streetlights. Just gravel and shadows.
He cut the headlights and rolled to a silent stop. Heartbeats filled the silence. Crickets chirped somewhere in the trees.
Two minutes passed.
No one followed.
"We safe?" Ariella whispered.
"For tonight," Kael murmured.
He leaned back. And for the first time that night, Ariella really looked at him — eyes full of exhaustion, pain, and something unspoken.
"You know what I'm most afraid of?" she said quietly.
Kael looked at her.
"That when all this is over… I won't recognize myself anymore."
Kael didn't reply. Instead, he reached out — not to hold, but to touch. Light. Real.
"You're not who they tried to shape. You're Ariella. And tonight… you're free."
She nodded, eyes glistening.
Rome — DeLuca Estate, Surveillance Control Room
Dim lighting. Flickering screens showing security footage from Villa Miani. Matteo stood over a monitor, arms crossed.
One clip played — timestamp: 01:04 AM.
Ariella running. A man behind her. The masked stranger… now unmasked.
"Pause," Matteo snapped.
The operator froze the frame. The man's face — half-turned, lit by streetlamp.
"Zoom in."
The screen enlarged. Jawline. Eyes. Black hair tousled by the wind.
Matteo's breath caught.
He pressed a button. The footage streamed straight to Salvatore's private office.
Less than two minutes later, the door slammed open.
Salvatore entered, tie loosened, fury boiling.
"Why the hell did you call me in the middle of the night?"
Matteo pointed at the screen.
"Ariella didn't vanish. She ran. And she wasn't alone."
Salvatore stepped closer. The face on screen sharpened.
Kael Morreti.
His past rose like smoke from ashes.
"No…"
Matteo's voice trembled. "It's him. Kael."
Salvatore slammed his fist into the console. Metal thunder echoed in the room.
"Fifteen years I buried that name. Fifteen years I erased him."
He turned, voice heavy with vengeance.
"Then let me finish what I started."