The knock on the door was answered almost immediately by Emilio, as precise as ever. Dr. Belardi entered the apartment with his usual grace.
"Good morning, Doctor," Emilio greeted him as usual. "The young master is in the living room. He just woke up."
Vittorio raised an eyebrow. Lorenzo waking early? That was unusual. Typically, after a rage attack, Lorenzo would remain agitated for days, unable to settle into his monotonous routine.
The psychiatrist stepped into the living room and paused, momentarily caught off guard by the sight before him.
Lorenzo sat on the sofa, dressed in a neatly pressed white shirt and dark pants. His hair was styled, his face calm, and a faint smile played on his lips. He looked up at Vittorio and greeted him with an air of unexpected warmth.
"Doctor, good morning."
Recovering quickly, Vittorio nodded. "Good morning, Lorenzo. You're up early."
Lorenzo shrugged lightly. "I thought I'd give you one less reason to scold me. Please, sit down." He gestured to the chair across from him.
The psychiatrist complied, setting his bag on the floor. His expression remained neutral, but inwardly, he was wary. "You seem… unusually alert today. What's the occasion?"
Lorenzo leaned back on the sofa, his tone unusually cheerful. "I've had a lot to think about. Self-reflection, you know. Maybe it's time I stopped being so difficult."
Well, that was unexpected. On the surface, it sounded like progress, but Vittorio couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"you've always resisted change in the past. So what's different now?"
Lorenzo chuckled softly, his dark eyes glinting with a faint, unreadable light. "Maybe I've finally realized how absurd it all is. Life moves on, whether we like it or not."
Vittorio tilted his head, narrowing his gaze. "That's a remarkably mature perspective, Lorenzo."
"Thank you," Lorenzo replied with a faint smile. "Now, I hope you haven't had breakfast yet? Emilio..."
The butler appeared almost instantly, responding to Lorenzo's call.
"Yes, young master?"
"Prepare something for me and the Doctor. Make it one of your fancy dishes."
Emilio hesitated, clearly taken aback, but nodded. "Of course, young master."
As Emilio retreated to the kitchen, Vittorio leaned back in the sofa, his sharp gaze never leaving Lorenzo. "You're being unusually cooperative today."
Lorenzo raised his eyebrows, his mocking smile provoking Vittorio further. "Isn't that what you've been asking for all this time?"
"Yes, though sudden changes in behavior often have deeper roots. Do you feel any particular difference?"
Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as if seriously considering the question. "I think so. There's a clarity I haven't had in a long time."
"Clarity can come from many places—reflection, external influence, or even sudden realizations. What do you think prompted this?"
Lorenzo's smile deepened as he leaned back. "Does that matter, Doctor? Isn't the result what counts most?"
Vittorio's tone hardened slightly. "Lorenzo."
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Are you really okay?"
Lorenzo laughed softly, though the sound was devoid of warmth. "I'm touched by your concern. But I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."
Before Vittorio could respond, Emilio returned, carrying a tray laden with hot coffee, fresh bread, eggs, and fruit—whatever could be quickly prepared. Despite Lorenzo's earlier request for something elaborate, Emilio knew better than to predict his young master's whims. He set the tray on the coffee table, stepping back when Lorenzo waved him off.
"Please, help yourself," Lorenzo said, picking up a cup of coffee and handing it to Vittorio. "Consider this my attempt at politeness."
Vittorio accepted the cup but didn't drink immediately. He observed as Lorenzo served himself, his movements uncharacteristically composed and socially graceful.
"Lorenzo," Vittorio began, "do you remember last night? Your condition seemed quite concerning."
Lorenzo sipped his coffee, his voice light. "Didn't you once tell me that expressing frustration can lead to clarity? That's all it was, Doctor. Nothing to worry about."
"It seemed more than just venting," Vittorio countered, his gaze flicking to Lorenzo's hand, now wrapped neatly in medical gauze.
Lorenzo waved his bandaged hand dismissively, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Well, it was ten years' worth of frustration. Don't you think that's worth a little fuss?"
Vittorio wasn't fooled. For all his charm, Lorenzo's mask was slipping. As his psychiatrist, Vittorio knew him too well—the subtle shifts in tone, the deliberate ease in his movements, the empty smiles. Beneath it all lay a chilling isolation, a void that no amount of pretense could fill.
Silence settled between them as Lorenzo continued eating, his appetite seemingly unaffected.
Vittorio decided to test him. Placing his coffee cup on the table, he spoke casually. "Since you're feeling this good, how about a simple outing?"
Lorenzo glanced up, curiosity flickering across his face. "An outing? What did you have in mind?"
"Pick up your younger brother, Adriano, from school," Vittorio suggested. "Before your 'rebellion' seven months ago, the two of you seemed close. From what I hear, he's still struggling with your sudden departure. You were the only one he felt truly listened to."
Lorenzo's surprise was brief. He nodded almost immediately. "Why not? It's been a while since I've seen Adri."
The ease with which he agreed sent another alarm bell ringing in Vittorio's mind. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself. "Good. Emilio, please inform Adriano's security team about Lorenzo's decision."
An hour later, after engaging in light conversation with Lorenzo, Vittorio left the apartment. But as he stepped into the elevator, his unease only deepened.
Lorenzo's contradiction was unnerving.
On the surface, he was composed, articulate, even charming. Yet Vittorio, who knew him better than anyone else in the world, couldn't ignore the signs. The perfect mask Lorenzo had crafted concealed something far more dangerous—a void that threatened to consume him entirely.