LOGIN
~~LENA~~
I knew something was wrong the moment I pushed the door open.
“Lena!”
My stepmother’s voice sliced through the silence from the kitchen.
I dropped my bag near the door and walked in slowly. The acrid smell of burnt stew hung thick in the air.
“I just got back,” I said carefully.
She turned to face me, arms folded tight across her chest like she had been waiting for this fight all day.
“And the chores I told you to finish this morning?”
I paused. I had woken up early, cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, and swept the floor before leaving. So what exactly was she talking about?
“I did them before I left.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No. I’m just saying that I did them before I—”
Before I could finish, her hand shot out, slapping me across the cheek. The sting made my head spin.
She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward the sink, slamming my face into the pile of wet dishes. Soapy water flooded my mouth and nose.
I gasped and choked, lungs burning as I clawed desperately at the edge of the counter.
“Maybe this will teach you some sense!” she hissed.
She shoved harder. My nose slammed into the faucet,and a sharp pain exploded behind my eyes.
“You useless girl,” she snapped. “Living in this house and you can’t even do one simple thing right.”
When she finally released me, I stumbled back, water dripped from my hair.
“No wonder your real mother abandoned you,” she spat. “Even she couldn’t stand the sight of you.”
I froze. “Don’t call my mother—”
Her lips curled into a vicious smile. “What did you just say?”
“You don’t get to bring her into this.”
“Oh… you’ve grown some teeth.” She seized my arm, nails digging in like claws. “Basement. Now.”
“No—” Panic clawed up my throat. “No, no, no… please. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean it. I’ll do whatever you want, just not the basement. Please.”
My voice cracked as I tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened.
“Too late for apologies,” she said coldly, dragging me toward the stairs.
“Ma’am, please—”
“What’s all this noise about?”
My father’s voice cut through the hallway.
She froze for a split second. Then, like someone flipping a switch, her grip loosened and her face transformed into wounded innocence. She stepped back and pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.
“I was only trying to correct her,” she said softly. “But she started shouting at me… calling me names.”
I stared at her, stunned. The same woman who had just shoved me now looked like the victim.
My father’s gaze snapped to me, dark with irritation. “Is that true?”
“No—” My voice shook. “She was dragging me to the basement. I didn’t even—”
“Enough.” His tone was sharp and final. The single word cut straight through me.
“You will not raise your voice in this house,” he said coldly. “Especially not to your mother.”
“She’s lying,” I whispered, desperation tightening my throat.
His jaw clenched. “Not another word, Lena. Now go upstairs.”
I stood frozen for a moment, fingers curling hard at my sides.
Arguing never helped.
It only made everything worse. Because deep down I knew the truth: Father had heard every word.
He had simply chosen not to care.
Slowly, I turned and walked toward the stairs, each step heavy on the wooden floor.
Behind me, my stepmother gave a soft, pitiful sniff, playing the victim perfectly.
She had won. Again.
—
Sleep refused to come that night. My cheek still burned where she had hit me, and every time I closed my eyes the scene replayed in vicious detail.
Thirst eventually dragged me out of bed hours later. The house lay silent, faint moonlight spilling through the hallway windows as I padded quietly toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
On my way back, hushed voices drifted from the living room.
“…we’ll all die if you don’t do this,” my stepmother whispered.
My feet rooted to the floor.
“Do you want us to die? I’m pregnant, for God’s sake. Think about the baby. All you have to do is give her to him.”
My chest squeezed tight. A long silence followed before my father spoke, his voice rough.
“He’s a killer. No matter what you say, I can’t sell my daughter to a mafia boss who murders people for fun.”
My stomach dropped.
Mafia?
“No, no, don’t call it that,” my stepmother said quickly. “You’re not selling her. You’re just… letting him have her for a little while.”
Her voice softened. “We’ll get her back once the debts are settled.”
I stood pressed against the wall, the weight of their words crushing my ribs.
“So what do you say?” she pressed. “Have you made your choice? Are you giving her to him?”
The silence stretched unbearably. My heart hammered so loudly I was terrified they would hear it.
Of course he won’t. He doesn’t hate me… right?
Say no. Please, Dad. Say no.
Finally, my father spoke, defeat heavy in every syllable. “Yes.”
The glass slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the tile. Chairs scraped loudly in the dining room.
“Did you hear that?” my stepmother whispered.
The kitchen door swung open. My father stepped out first. His eyes dropped to the broken glass, then slowly rose to meet mine.
“You were listening?” he asked quietly.
“Dad…” My voice trembled. “You were really going to sell me?”
My stepmother sighed dramatically behind him. “Oh Lena, must you always be so dramatic?”
My father ran a hand over his face, exhausted. “It’s not like that, sweetheart.”
“You said yes.”
“Listen to me,” he said gently, stepping closer. “We had no choice. He’ll kill us—all of us—if we don’t pay. This is the only way to protect the family.”
My stepmother nodded, eyes solemn. “He won’t hurt you. It’s only temporary. We’ll bring you back once everything is settled.”
Temporary.
Like I was some object being loaned out. My nails dug hard into my palms.
“Please understand,” he continued. “This is the only way to protect this family.”
I looked between them—my father, the man who was supposed to protect me, and the woman standing beside him like a fragile saint.
Slowly, I nodded. “Okay then.”
Both of them froze.
“You understand?” my father asked.
“Yes.”
But inside my head, one thought screamed louder than everything else.
Run.
~~NICCOLÒ~~ By the time dinner finally ended, I had developed a headache. It wasn't because of the noise. Santoro family dinners had always been loud. With enough relatives gathered under one roof, silence was simply impossible. No, tonight's headache had a name. Lena. I stood near one of the windows overlooking the gardens, with a glass of whiskey in my hand as I replayed the disaster she had created at the dinner table. Out of every subject available for discussion, she had chosen Isabella Voss. Isabella. Even now, I couldn't understand what had possessed her. I had known Lena was curious. Curiosity practically defined her existence. Ever since she had discovered that photograph, I had been waiting for the inevitable questions. It had only been a matter of time. What I didn’t expect was for her to casually mention Isabella's name in front of the entire family as though she were asking about a distant relative. The woman had no survival instincts. Absolutely none
~~LENA~~The silence was not what I had expected. Actually, that wasn't entirely true.I had expected silence from Niccolò. Perhaps even from his father. I had anticipated a few uncomfortable glances, some awkward shifting in seats, or maybe someone attempting to steer the conversation in another direction.What I had not expected was for the entire table to fall completely silent. The reaction was immediate. And deeply unsettling.Forks stopped halfway to mouths. Conversations ended abruptly. Even the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain disappeared. It felt as though I had accidentally spoken a forbidden word.For several long seconds, nobody moved. Nobody spoke nor even seemed willing to breathe too loudly. I suddenly became painfully aware that I was still smiling.The smile vanished immediately.Oh God.What had I just done? My gaze moved around the table.Several people were openly staring at me. Some looked uncomfortable. Others appeared curious. One elderly woman looked
~~LENA~~I had originally assumed that finding the perfect opportunity to question Niccolò would be nearly impossible.The man rarely remained in one place long enough for an uninterrupted conversation. Even when he was physically present, his mind always seemed occupied by something else. He worked constantly, disappeared without warning, and had perfected the art of avoiding discussions he did not want to have.So, when he returned home that evening and informed me that the entire household would be attending a family dinner hosted by his father, I genuinely thought I had misheard him."We're going out?" I asked, lowering the book I had been pretending to read.Niccolò loosened the cuffs of his shirt without looking at me. "We're attending a family dinner."I frowned. "A family dinner?""Yes."I stared at him suspiciously. "Voluntarily?"That finally made him look at me. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"I folded my arms."Nothing. I just didn't know your family believed in s
~~LENA~~ I remained seated on the floor long after I discovered the photograph. The file lay open beside me, forgotten. My entire attention was fixed on the picture in my hands. Isabella Voss. At least, she had been alive six months ago. I read the handwritten note again. And once more, because apparently my brain had decided that repetition might somehow produce a different answer. It did not. The words remained exactly the same. "Isabella Voss. Alive." I exhaled slowly. "Okay, Lena. Don't panic." Unfortunately, telling myself not to panic had never actually prevented me from panicking. Questions began piling up immediately. Who had taken the picture? Who had been tracking Isabella? Why had they hidden the photograph inside an old personnel file? And most i
The name Isabella Voss stayed in my head long after I left the garden. I did not trust Marco. Not even a little.The man was charming, polite, and entirely too willing to offer information. People like that usually wanted something in return. Still, I was not exactly losing in this arrangement either.He clearly had an agenda, probably a selfish one, but I had questions, and he seemed willing to point me in the right direction. Besides, while I hated admitting it, Marco would never dare cross certain lines.Not while I was Niccolò's wife.Whatever issues existed between the two men, one thing had become clear to everyone in this house. Niccolò was not a joke. And despite all my complaints about him, he was far more decent than I had expected when this whole arrangement started.That thought alone irritated me.When I looked up again, I found Marco still watching me with quiet amus
~~LENA~~ Niccolò sucked. That was not a new discovery. I had known it for weeks. Still, that morning, the realization irritated me more than usual. My first attempt at getting closer to him had failed completely. I should have expected it. The man had the emotional availability of a locked vault. Looking back, I honestly did not know what I had expected. Perhaps gratitude, trust or a normal conversation that did not end with him either dismissing me or walking away. Instead, I had gotten neither. With a quiet sigh, I pushed the food around my plate for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. I had barely managed a few bites, and even those sat heavily in my stomach. My mind was too occupied with everything I had learned the previous night. None of it made sense, and the harder I tried to piece everything together,
~~NICCOLÒ~~ I was meant to be at Carlo's office by ten. Instead I was here, pushing everything aside. The private shooting range sat far outside the city limits, hidden behind old concrete walls and empty land where nobody complained about gunfire. It
~~NICCOLO~~ I waited until Lena’s footsteps faded down the hallway before looking back at Bianca. She hadn't moved from the doorway. She stood there with one hand resting on her suitcase. “That looked… emotional.” I said nothing. She smiled faintly and stepped further into the room. “Interestin
~~LENA~~I couldn’t stay inside anymore.After everything, the walls felt like they were closing in. I slipped out of bed late at night, threw on an oversized shirt and shorts and headed towards the garden. Without a real plan, I just needed air.The cool night air brus
The door to Lena's room clicked shut behind me. I stood in the corridor for a moment, letting the silence of the upper level settle around me. Then I turned and walked. Matteo was already there when I reached the top of the main staircase, moving up from the lower level. “Full report,” I said.







