Vincenzo sat alone in his study, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. In his hands was a framed photo of Vanessa, her smile radiant and full of life. His thumb gently stroked the edge of the picture as tears welled in his eyes.
"It's too hard to let you go," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the glass as if that simple act could bridge the unbearable chasm her absence had left behind. "You should be here, Vanessa... with me, with our girls."
The sound of footsteps interrupted his quiet mourning. The door creaked open, and Brian stepped in, his expression grim. He closed the door behind him and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.
"Vincenzo," Brian began, his voice low but steady.
Vincenzo didn't look up, his eyes still locked on Vanessa's image. "I don't have the strength for another lecture," he muttered.
Brian pushed off the wall and approached him. "This isn't a lecture. It's about Vanessa."
Vincenzo's head snapped up, a flicker of confusion crossing his grief-stricken face. "What about her?"
Brian's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Her death... it wasn't natural."
The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the room with their weight. Vincenzo stood abruptly, the photo slipping from his hands and landing on the desk with a dull thud.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice sharp with disbelief.
Brian stepped closer, his tone unwavering. "I've been looking into it. Vanessa's death wasn't an accident. It was deliberate."
For a moment, Vincenzo was silent, his mind reeling. The anger boiling beneath his skin quickly overtook his shock. "Who? Who would dare?"
"I don't have all the answers yet," Brian admitted, his fists clenched at his sides. "But there are too many inconsistencies. Her symptoms, the timing, the way everything was brushed under the rug... it doesn't add up."
Vincenzo's chest heaved as he struggled to contain his fury. "You think someone killed her?"
"I'm sure of it," Brian replied, his tone cold. "And whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn't random. They wanted her gone."
The room fell into a heavy silence as Vincenzo processed Brian's words. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "I'll find them," he growled. "And I'll make them pay."
Brian nodded. "We will. But we have to be smart about this. Whoever did this is dangerous, and they're probably watching us. We can't make a single mistake."
Vincenzo's gaze hardened, his grief now mingled with a cold, unrelenting resolve. "What do you need from me?"
"Access to your resources, your men. And time. I need to dig deeper," Brian said.
"You have everything you need," Vincenzo replied without hesitation.
Brian placed a hand on Vincenzo's shoulder, his expression somber. "This isn't just about revenge, Vincenzo. It's about justice—for Vanessa, for your girls, for all of us."
As Brian left the room to begin his investigation, Vincenzo sat back down, his eyes returning to Vanessa's photo. His grief burned hotter, transforming into a weapon he would wield against whoever had taken her from him.
"I'll make this right, Vanessa," he vowed, his voice low and fierce. "I'll find them. And I'll make them pay."
The Hunt Begins
Later that night, Vincenzo summoned Luca to his study. The loyal subordinate entered, his expression unreadable.
"You called for me, boss?" Luca asked, closing the door behind him.
Vincenzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Vanessa was murdered," he said bluntly.
Luca's eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor giving way to a flash of anger. "What do you need me to do?"
"Start investigating her last days," Vincenzo ordered. "Who she met, where she went, anyone who might have had a reason to hurt her. I want every lead, no matter how small."
"And the twins?" Luca asked, glancing at the cradles in the adjacent room.
"They'll be protected," Vincenzo said firmly. "But I won't let whoever did this think they've won. Not for a second."
Luca nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "I'll get to work immediately."
As Luca left, Vincenzo leaned back in his chair, the weight of his grief replaced by a burning resolve. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.