The morning after Lorenzo's visit, the city looked the same, but it felt different.
The streets bustled with the usual rhythm of Milan—businesspeople rushing to work, tourists snapping pictures, and cars honking in frustration. But for me, everything was sharper. Every shadow felt heavier, every glance from a stranger suspicious.
I stood at my window, watching the city move below me as the unanswered question from last night echoed in my mind: Run or fight?
I still didn't have an answer.
Carlo called me mid-morning, his voice tight with urgency.
"I pulled some strings and found out who owns the number that called you last night," he said.
My stomach twisted. "Who is it?"
He hesitated. "The phone is registered to a shell company tied to the Calvinis. But here's the thing—it's been inactive for weeks. Whoever used it isn't leaving a trail."
I sank into my chair, gripping the phone tightly. "So, what does that mean?"
"It means they're careful," Carlo said. "They're sending you a message without exposing themselves."
A message. Of course. Everything they did was calculated.
"Do you think they're bluffing?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"No," Carlo said bluntly. "They don't bluff, Elena. They're testing you. Seeing if you'll crack."
"And if I don't?"
"Then they'll stop testing," Carlo said, his voice dropping. "And start acting."
I spent the rest of the day trying to focus on work, but my mind refused to cooperate. Every time I opened a file, I saw that photograph of me sitting outside the courthouse.
By late afternoon, I gave up. My desk was littered with papers I hadn't touched, and my inbox was overflowing with unanswered emails.
The truth was, I couldn't keep pretending everything was normal.
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door, determined to get some air.
The café was quiet, tucked into a narrow street far from the busy heart of the city. It was one of my favorite places—a small refuge where I could think.
I ordered an espresso and found a table near the back, keeping my gaze on the entrance.
Halfway through my drink, I felt someone watching me.
My hand froze halfway to my cup as I glanced around the room. Nothing seemed out of place—just a few patrons lost in their own conversations. But the feeling wouldn't go away.
I turned back to my cup, forcing myself to focus. Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe it was the Calvinis tightening the noose around me. Either way, I couldn't afford to lose control.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor snapped my attention back to the present.
I looked up to see a man sitting across from me. He was in his late 30s, with sharp features and a calm demeanor that put me instantly on edge.
"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" he asked, his voice smooth.
I glanced around the café, noting that there were plenty of empty tables.
"I think you already know the answer to that," I said coolly.
He smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair. "You're cautious. I can appreciate that."
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice low.
"My name isn't important," he said. "But the people I work for are."
My stomach tightened. "Let me guess—the Calvinis."
His smile widened slightly, but he didn't confirm or deny it.
"I'm here to give you some advice," he said.
"I don't need your advice," I snapped.
"No?" he asked, tilting his head. "Then why are you so scared?"
I hated how easily he saw through me.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice softening. "You're in over your head, Elena. You think you can play this game, but you're out of your league. The Calvinis don't play fair. And they don't lose."
I stared at him, my mind racing.
"What do you want from me?" I asked finally.
"Simple," he said. "Stay out of their way. Go back to your quiet little life and pretend none of this ever happened."
"And if I don't?"
His smile faded. "Then you'll end up like Marco Greco."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
He rose from his chair, smoothing the front of his coat. "Think about it," he said, his tone almost kind. "You don't have to die for someone else's war."
He walked out of the café without looking back.
I stayed at the table for a long time after he left, staring at the empty chair across from me. My espresso had gone cold, untouched, but I didn't care.
His warning echoed in my mind: "You don't have to die for someone else's war."
The problem was, this wasn't someone else's war anymore.
It was mine.
When I got home that evening, the first thing I did was lock every door and window.
The apartment felt smaller than usual, the shadows deeper, the silence heavier. I turned on every light, but it didn't help.
The Calvinis had always been a shadow in the background, a distant threat that felt more theoretical than real. But now they were here, in my life, watching me, speaking to me.
I sank into the couch, my head in my hands. For weeks, I'd been holding onto the hope that I could outthink them, outmaneuver them. But the truth was becoming harder to ignore: they were everywhere, and they were always one step ahead.
A knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts.
My heart leapt into my throat as I crossed the room, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
"It's me," Lorenzo's voice called softly from the other side.
I exhaled shakily and opened the door, letting him in.
Lorenzo stepped inside, his presence filling the room in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.
"You look terrible," he said, his tone light but his gaze serious.
"Thanks," I said dryly, closing the door behind him.
He glanced around the apartment, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. "Expecting company?"
"Funny," I said. "What do you want?"
"I heard about your little meeting at the café," he said, leaning casually against the wall. "They're getting bold."
"They threatened me," I said, my voice trembling slightly.
"Of course they did," he said. "That's what they do."
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "You don't seem very concerned."
Lorenzo's smirk faded, and his gaze darkened. "I am concerned, Elena. That's why I'm here."
"For what?" I asked. "To tell me to run? To fight? What's your solution, Lorenzo?"
He stepped closer, his expression serious. "My solution is simple. Stay close to me."
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "Of course. Because being close to you has worked out so well for me so far."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might snap back. But instead, he said quietly, "If you try to fight them alone, they'll destroy you. With me, at least you have a chance."
I stared at him, my mind spinning.
"Think about it," he said softly.
And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the weight of his words.
That night, as I lay awake in bed, I realized something I hadn't wanted to admit before.
I didn't trust Lorenzo.
But I might need him.