The sun filtered through the thin curtains of Angela's villa, casting long golden beams across the room. The warmth didn't reach her, though. She sat curled up on the chaise lounge, staring at the roaring fireplace with a glass of wine in hand. She hadn't slept since her confrontation at the Vanghue mansion. Her heart was still pounding from the anger, the humiliation, and the lingering ache of betrayal.
Her mind replayed the events from the day before—the smug laughter, the empty apologies, and her own voice as it cut through the air like a dagger: "I oppose this ungodly reunion."
She smirked bitterly, swirling the crimson liquid in her glass. She had stood her ground and walked out with her head held high, but the hollowness that followed was unbearable. Angela had always been the kind of person to bottle up her emotions, to lock them away until they were forgotten. But now, it felt like the cork had been pulled, and everything was spilling out at once.
A knock at the door broke her reverie. She tensed, placing the glass on the table. No one ever visited her without calling first. Rising to her feet, she walked cautiously toward the door, her hand instinctively tightening around the small decorative dagger she kept on the side table.
She opened the door just a crack, only to find Jonas standing there, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a paper bag.
"Good morning," he said, his voice soft and easy. His presence was calming, but Angela couldn't shake the wariness she felt toward him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly, though her tone lacked the edge she had intended.
Jonas smiled faintly. "I thought you might need some company. And coffee. Always coffee." He raised the cup and bag as if in offering.
Angela stared at him for a moment, torn between slamming the door and letting him in. Finally, she sighed and stepped aside. "Fine. But don't overstay your welcome."
Jonas walked in, his eyes scanning the room. "Nice place," he said, placing the coffee and bag on the kitchen counter. "It suits you."
Angela crossed her arms. "Get to the point. Why are you here, Jonas?"
He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "I heard about what happened yesterday. The Vanghues… they're not exactly subtle. News travels fast."
Angela's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. You're here to lecture me about 'letting go' and 'moving on,' right? Because if that's the case, you can save your breath."
Jonas shook his head. "No lectures. I just thought you might want to talk about it—or not. Either way, I'm here."
Angela studied him, searching for any sign of ulterior motives. But all she saw was sincerity, and it unnerved her. She wasn't used to people caring without an agenda.
"Fine," she said, sitting back down on the chaise. "But don't expect me to pour my heart out. I'm not one for sob stories."
Jonas chuckled, sitting on the armchair opposite her. "Noted. How about we start with breakfast instead?" He pulled a couple of croissants from the bag and placed them on the table.
Angela took one reluctantly, nibbling at the edge. It was flaky and buttery, melting in her mouth. She hated to admit it, but it was good.
They sat in silence for a while, the crackling of the fireplace filling the room. Finally, Jonas broke the quiet.
"I know what it's like to be betrayed by the people you trust," he said, his voice low. "To feel like you're nothing more than a pawn in their game."
Angela looked up sharply, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "What are you talking about?"
Jonas leaned back, his gaze distant. "Let's just say my family isn't exactly a shining example of morality. The Vanghues have nothing on them. But I learned to play the game, to survive in their world. It's not easy, but it's possible."
Angela frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I see the same fire in you," he said, meeting her eyes. "You're stronger than you think, Angela. And I think you already know that. You just need to decide what you're going to do with it."
His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Angela didn't respond, but something in her chest stirred. She wasn't sure if it was hope or anger—or maybe both.
---
Later That Day
Angela decided to take a walk to clear her head. The streets were bustling with holiday shoppers, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. She wandered aimlessly, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind.
As she turned a corner, she found herself standing in front of a familiar building—the orphanage where she had volunteered as a teenager. The sight of it brought a pang of nostalgia and guilt. She hadn't been back in years, too consumed by her own life to think about the children she had once cared for.
Without thinking, she walked through the gates and into the courtyard. A group of children was playing in the snow, their laughter echoing through the air. One of them noticed her and ran over, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Miss Angela! You're back!"
Angela smiled faintly, kneeling down to greet the girl. "Hello, sweetheart. I didn't think anyone would remember me."
"Of course we do!" the girl said, grabbing her hand. "Come play with us!"
Before she could protest, Angela was pulled into the group, her laughter mingling with theirs as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. For the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace.
---
Back at the Villa
Five years ago,
As night fell, Angela returned home, her spirits lighter than they had been in weeks. But as she stepped inside, her phone buzzed with a message that sent a chill down her spine.
"We need to talk. It's about the Vanghue family. Meet me at the old docks at midnight. Come alone."
Angela stared at the message, her mind racing. Who could it be? And what did they know about the Vanghues? Part of her wanted to ignore it, but her curiosity—and her desire for answers—won out.
Grabbing her coat, she slipped out into the night, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on her shoulders.
---
Angela's car hummed quietly as it sped through the city streets. The neon lights of late-night diners and shops blurred past, but her mind wasn't on the scenery. The cryptic message burned in her thoughts. Who would send such a message? And why now, after everything that had happened? She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white against the leather.
The docks were deserted by the time she arrived. The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, mingling with the faint smell of oil and rust. Angela parked her car a distance away, not wanting to make her presence too obvious. She stepped out, the cold biting at her skin as she wrapped her coat tightly around herself. Her boots echoed against the wooden planks as she walked cautiously toward the meeting point.
The faint glow of a lamppost illuminated a figure standing by the edge of the dock, their back turned to her. Angela's heart raced as she approached, her hand instinctively slipping into her pocket to grip the small blade she always carried.
"Who are you?" she called out, her voice firm.
The figure turned slowly, and Angela froze. It was a man, tall and lean, with sharp features that were partially obscured by the shadows. He was wearing a mask that covers a large part of his face. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of intensity and mischief, and there was something unsettlingly familiar about him.
"Angela Vanghue," he said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
Her grip on the blade tightened. "You know my name, but I don't know yours. Care to even the playing field?"
The man smirked, taking a step closer. "Lorenzo Enzo Deluca Aethelwulf."
Angela's heart skipped a beat. Heir of the Italian underworld mafia — behind the scene boss with different amazing titles. She had heard whispers about him, stories that painted him as both a savior and a devil, depending on who was telling them.
"What do you want?" she demanded, forcing herself to stay calm. "Why did you call me here?"
Enzo tilted his head, studying her like she was a particularly intriguing puzzle. "Straight to the point. I like that." He gestured toward a nearby bench. "Why don't we sit? This conversation might take a while."
Angela hesitated but followed him cautiously. She remained standing while he sat, his posture relaxed as though they were old friends catching up over coffee.
"I know what you're thinking," Enzo began, his voice low. "Why would someone like me be interested in you? What could I possibly gain from this meeting?"
Angela's eyes narrowed. "You've got five seconds to get to the point, or I walk away."
Enzo chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Very well. I'll get straight to it. The Vanghue family has secrets, Angela. Dark ones. And I think you're starting to realize that."
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. He took her silence as an invitation to continue.
"Your parents," he said, his tone softening slightly. "They're not who you think they are. And their connection to Brad's family… it goes much deeper than you know."
Angela's stomach churned. She didn't trust him, but his words struck a chord. She had always felt like an outsider in the Vanghue family, a pawn in their schemes rather than a cherished daughter. But hearing it said aloud made it all the more real.
"And what do you get out of this?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.
Enzo leaned forward, his expression darkening. "Let's just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see the Vanghue and Brad families fall. And you keep getting on my way, so I have decided an alliance with you since we both share a common enemy. But I can't do it alone. I need someone who knows their weaknesses, someone who has a reason to fight them as much as I do."
Angela crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. "And you think that someone is me?"
"I don't think," Enzo said, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "I know."
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air. Angela felt like she was standing at a crossroads, torn between the life she had always known and the unknown path Enzowas offering.
"Why should I trust you?" she asked finally.
Enzo stood, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "You don't have to trust me, Angela. But think about this: how much more are you willing to endure before you take control of your life? They've already taken so much from you. Don't let them take any more."
Before she could respond, Enzo turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. Angela stood there, her mind racing with questions and doubts. She didn't know if she could trust him, but one thing was certain—she couldn't ignore what he had said.
---
Back at the Villa
Angela sat at her desk, a stack of old family documents spread out before her. She had never paid much attention to them before, but now they seemed like pieces of a puzzle she was desperate to solve. Her eyes scanned the pages, searching for anything that might confirm—or refute—Enzo's claims.
Hours passed, and the weight of exhaustion began to set in. But just as she was about to give up, she found something—a series of financial records that didn't add up. Transactions between the Vanghue and Brad families, with sums so large they made her head spin.
Her heart raced as she pieced together the implications. It wasn't just about money; it was about power, influence, and control. The families weren't just connected—they were entangled in something much darker than she had imagined.
Angela leaned back in her chair, her mind spinning. She didn't know what her next move would be, but one thing was clear: she couldn't walk away from this. Not now. Not ever. But she would have taken a bold step, if she was aware that she was just a pawn in the hands of the vanghues.
---