The fallout from the leaked photograph was immediate and chaotic.
By the time I stepped out of my apartment the next morning, Milan was buzzing with tension. Newsstands were lined with papers displaying bold headlines in screaming fonts:
"CALVINI-PROSECUTION LINK EXPOSED!"
"CORRUPTION AT THE HEART OF JUSTICE."
"HOW DEEP DOES THE CONSPIRACY GO?"
People whispered as they walked past, their voices hushed but urgent. Shopkeepers leaned over their counters, trading rumors with customers. And everywhere I turned, I caught snatches of conversation. My name hadn't surfaced—yet. But the undercurrent of fear and speculation was impossible to miss.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, keeping my head down as I navigated the streets. It was impossible to tell who was just curious and who might be watching me. Every glance felt sharper, every shadow darker.
For once, the city that had always felt like home now seemed like enemy territory.
Carlo's call came as I stepped into the café where we'd agreed to meet. His voice was sharp, almost panicked.
"Elena, what the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, skipping the pleasantries entirely.
I sighed, lowering myself into a booth near the back of the café. "Good morning to you too."
"This isn't a joke," Carlo snapped. "The Calvinis are furious. The prosecutors are scrambling to cover their tracks. Do you have any idea how many powerful people you've pissed off?"
"That was the point," I said flatly.
Carlo let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And what? You thought they'd just roll over and accept it?"
"No," I said, scanning the room. "But maybe they'll think twice before coming after me again."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Carlo sighed heavily. "Stay there. I'm on my way."
The café was quiet, its usual patrons absorbed in newspapers or their phones. A middle-aged couple sat near the front window, their conversation animated but low. A man in a dark suit sipped an espresso at the counter, his back to the room.
I kept my gaze on the entrance, watching every person who walked through the door. My espresso sat untouched on the table, the bitterness clinging to the air.
The bell above the door chimed again, and my stomach tightened.
It wasn't Carlo who walked in. It was Lorenzo.
Lorenzo spotted me instantly. His dark eyes swept over the room before locking onto mine. His stride was deliberate, his movements exuding a quiet confidence that seemed to draw every gaze in the room.
"Elena," he said, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation.
I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Making sure you're still alive," he said smoothly, his voice calm.
"Don't act like you care," I shot back.
His lips curved into a faint smirk. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here."
The tension between us was sharp, almost suffocating.
"You made your move," Lorenzo said, leaning back in his seat. "Now you need to prepare for what comes next."
"And what comes next?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. "Retaliation."
The word hung in the air like a storm cloud.
"You think I don't know that?" I said. "I'm not stupid, Lorenzo."
"No," he said softly. "You're not. But you're reckless."
My jaw tightened. "And what would you have me do? Sit back and let them kill me?"
Lorenzo's smirk faded, and for the first time, I saw something close to concern in his eyes.
"I would have you think," he said, his voice measured. "Plan. Make allies instead of enemies."
"Is that why you're here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "To offer your protection?"
He leaned forward, his gaze never wavering. "I'm here because you've declared war on the Calvinis. And whether you like it or not, you're going to need me to win."
I stared at him, my mind racing.
Every instinct told me not to trust him. He was manipulative, dangerous, and always several steps ahead. But the truth was, I couldn't do this alone. The Calvinis were too powerful, their reach too vast.
"What do you want, Lorenzo?" I asked finally, my voice low.
His smirk returned, but there was no humor in it. "I want the same thing you do—to survive."
"And what's in it for you if I agree?"
His eyes gleamed, and his smile widened slightly. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."
I didn't trust him. Not entirely. But I couldn't ignore the logic in his words.
"Fine," I said reluctantly. "But this doesn't mean I trust you."
"Good," he said, standing. "I'd be worried if you did."
And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone with the weight of what I'd just agreed to.
Carlo arrived a few minutes later, his expression dark as he slid into the seat Lorenzo had just vacated.
"What the hell was he doing here?" Carlo demanded.
"He thinks I need him," I said flatly.
"And do you?"
I hesitated, my hands tightening around my cup. "I don't know yet."
Carlo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're playing a dangerous game, Elena."
"I'm not playing," I said sharply. "This isn't a game anymore, Carlo. It's survival."
The walk back to my apartment felt longer than usual. Every shadow seemed darker, every sound sharper.
By the time I reached my door, my nerves were frayed. I locked the door behind me, double-checking the deadbolt before crossing the room.
The photographs were still spread out on the table, a constant reminder of what I was up against.
My phone buzzed on the counter, the sound making me jump. I grabbed it quickly, my stomach twisting when I saw the notification:
Unknown Number.
I hesitated before opening the message.
"You should have stayed quiet."
My hands shook as I read the words.
A second message followed moments later.
"We're watching you."
I sank onto the couch, clutching the phone in my hand as my mind raced.
The Calvinis weren't just angry—they were watching my every move, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Lorenzo's words echoed in my mind: "You've declared war."
I had. And now I needed to finish it.
That night, as the city slept, I sat at my table, staring at the evidence I had collected. Each piece was a weapon, sharp enough to cut through the Calvinis' empire—but using them would come at a cost.
My phone buzzed again, and this time, I didn't hesitate. I called Lorenzo.
"We need to talk," I said when he answered.
"Already miss me?" he said, his tone laced with humor.
"Cut the crap," I snapped. "If we're going to win this, we need a plan. A real one."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Then let's make one," Lorenzo said softly.