Milan's charm felt suffocating that night. The glittering city lights and the buzz of life outside my window couldn't distract me from the storm raging inside my mind.
Sofia Ferraro's confession echoed in my head, a haunting refrain I couldn't shake:
"They both paid me. Lorenzo and the Calvinis."
Each word unraveled the fragile threads of logic I'd been holding onto, plunging me deeper into uncertainty. The Calvinis had manipulated this case for their benefit—that much I expected. But Lorenzo? He was supposed to be the victim, the man I was risking my reputation to defend.
Instead, he had turned the trial into a weapon.
I stood by the window, gripping my phone so tightly it hurt. Carlo's number glared at me from the screen. His gruff, no-nonsense voice was exactly what I needed right now, but for the first time, I hesitated to call.
I wasn't sure I could handle what he might say.
After a moment, I pressed the button.
Carlo answered almost immediately. "Elena? You don't usually call this late. What's going on?"
"I have a problem," I said, pacing the room. "Sofia Ferraro finally cracked. She told me the truth."
There was a pause on the other end. "What truth?"
"She said Lorenzo paid her to manipulate her testimony," I began, my voice trembling with frustration. "But so did the Calvinis. They both used her, Carlo. And now I'm stuck in the middle of their game."
Carlo swore softly, the sound of papers rustling in the background. "That's… complicated."
"Complicated doesn't even begin to cover it," I shot back, gripping the phone tighter. "She claims she had no choice—that they threatened her. But if that's true, why would Lorenzo risk involving her in the first place? Why play a card that could backfire so easily?"
Carlo was silent for a long moment. Then, his tone turned colder. "Because this trial isn't about the truth. It's about leverage."
"What do you mean?" I asked, stopping mid-step.
"Think about it," he said, his voice steady but heavy. "If Lorenzo orchestrated Ferraro's testimony, he wasn't just protecting himself. He was turning her into a weapon. Against the Calvinis."
The realization sent a chill through me. "You're saying Lorenzo used the trial to provoke them?"
"Exactly," Carlo said. "If he can prove they framed him, he doesn't just win the case. He weakens their entire operation. But if it backfires…"
He didn't finish, but the unspoken words lingered in the air.
If Lorenzo's plan fell apart, it wouldn't just destroy him. It would destroy me, too.
The next morning, I arrived at the detention center with a renewed sense of purpose—and fury.
Lorenzo was already seated when I walked in, his dark eyes scanning me as I approached. His lips curved into the faintest smirk, but there was something sharper behind it.
"You look… intense," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"Don't," I snapped, dropping my bag onto the table. "Don't play coy with me today."
His smirk widened slightly, but his eyes remained locked on mine. "Something tells me this is about Ferraro."
I pulled out the file I'd brought with me, slamming it against the glass between us. "She talked. She told me everything."
Lorenzo didn't react immediately. He sat up straighter, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table. "And what, exactly, did she say?"
"She said you paid her," I said sharply. "And that the Calvinis paid her, too. You've been using her to manipulate this case from the beginning."
"And you're surprised?" he asked, his voice calm, almost amused.
"Yes!" I snapped. "I've been working night and day to defend you, Lorenzo. To clear your name. And now I find out you've been playing me just like you've been playing everyone else."
His smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculated expression. "I haven't been playing you, Elena. I've been protecting myself."
"By lying to me?"
"By doing what needed to be done," he said, his tone hardening. "You think this trial is about justice? About the truth? It's not. It's about survival. Mine. And, whether you realize it or not, yours."
I stared at him, my hands trembling with anger. "So what's your grand plan, Lorenzo? You set Ferraro up to discredit the Calvinis. You're using this trial to provoke them into making a mistake. Is that it?"
He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine with a chilling intensity. "This trial isn't about provoking them. It's about proving they're weak. If I expose them, they lose everything. Their alliances. Their power. Their control."
"And if you lose?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
His lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "I don't lose."
His certainty made my stomach churn. "You're risking everything," I said. "Your life. This trial. Me."
His gaze softened slightly, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something real beneath his mask. "You're not a risk, Elena," he said quietly. "You're my advantage."
"Your advantage?" I repeated, my voice rising again. "You've put me in the crossfire of your war. You've dragged me into something I didn't sign up for!"
"And yet, here you are," he said, his voice calm but unyielding. "You're still fighting. For me."
That evening, back in my apartment, I sat in silence, staring at the photograph pinned to my corkboard.
Lorenzo's teenage face stared back at me, frozen in time. His eyes were dark, filled with a quiet determination that seemed to echo across the years.
I thought about Sofia—her trembling hands, her desperate confession.
I thought about Carlo's warning: "Get out before it's too late."
And I thought about Lorenzo, his calm certainty that he could manipulate everyone around him and come out unscathed.
This trial wasn't about justice anymore.
It wasn't even about the law.
It was about power.
And for the first time, I realized I wasn't just a bystander.
I was part of the game.