As the Cortelli family settled into dinner, the clinking of silverware and the rich aroma of Italian cuisine filled the room. Sofia and Lorenzo were the most talkative, as usual. Sofia's cheerful voice blended with Lorenzo's playful teasing, their laughter creating a light-hearted atmosphere despite the underlying tension that always lingered in the Cortelli household. Lorenzo was recounting a humorous encounter from earlier in the day, while Sofia eagerly chimed in with her own witty remarks.
Across the table, Vittorio remained quiet, observing his children with a measured gaze. His attention eventually shifted to Damien, the future head of the family, who ate silently, focused and composed, as always. The contrast between Damien's reserved nature and his younger siblings' easy laughter was striking.
Halfway through the meal, Vittorio placed his fork down and, in his typical authoritative tone, spoke across the table to his eldest son.
"After dinner, in my office, Damien," Vittorio's voice cut through the light conversation.
Damien didn't flinch. He glanced briefly at his father, then gave a single, firm nod. There was no need for words between them. The gravity of what was to be discussed was clear. Vittorio's piercing gaze lingered on Damien for a moment longer before shifting toward his wife, Luccia
In that brief exchange of glances between Vittorio and Luccia, something unsaid passed between them—a silent reminder of the conversation they had shared the night before. Luccia's expression remained calm, her eyes lowering slightly as she continued to eat, but the tension in her posture was unmistakable. Whatever had been discussed the night before was clearly weighing on both of them, and it involved their eldest son.
The light chatter between Sofia and Lorenzo continued, oblivious to the undercurrents of power and decision swirling beneath the surface of this seemingly ordinary family dinner.
After dinner, the family dispersed from the dining table, each heading toward their own quarters. Sofia and Lorenzo laughed softly as they ascended the grand staircase, while Maria walked away with an air of quiet grace. The evening's warmth still hung in the air, but Damien, ever focused, knew his night was far from over.
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As instructed, Damien made his way toward his father's office. The mansion's long corridors echoed his footsteps, the dark wooden floors creaking slightly beneath his weight. Reaching the imposing double doors of the office, he raised his hand and knocked twice.
A faint voice, deep and commanding, called from inside. "Come in."
Damien opened the door, stepping inside the dimly lit room. His eyes quickly scanned the familiar setting—dark oak shelves lined with books, family heirlooms, and portraits of Cortelli ancestors staring down at him from the walls. But what caught his attention was Luccia, his mother, seated beside Vittorio.
His eyebrows furrowed in surprise. It was rare for Luccia to be present during discussions in his father's office. Usually, these meetings were private—strictly between him and his father.
Without a word, Vittorio gestured toward a leather chair in front of his large mahogany desk.
"Sit," he ordered, his voice firm but calm.
Damien did as he was told, his sharp eyes shifting between his father and mother, trying to decipher the purpose of this unusual meeting. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't something trivial.
The weight of the conversation hung in the air before a word was even spoken.
Vittorio leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, eyes fixed on his son as he began.
" Damien, you already know about the Moretti's, don't you?"
Damien nodded, leaning forward slightly, his sharp gaze never leaving his father. "The Moretti's. They live in Naples."
Vittorio nodded in approval. "Yes. As you know, they've never asked us for help, nor have they ever done business with us."
Damien's brow furrowed slightly. "I've noticed. They've always kept their distance."
His father continued, his voice measured. "But for the past few months, they've been running into trouble. Their business is crumbling."
Damien smirked, leaning back in his chair, his confidence radiating. "Because everyone wants to do business with the Cortelli's. No one would dare choose the Moretti's over us."
Vittorio's lips curled into a faint smile. "Exactly, my son. You're right. And now they're on the verge of bankruptcy. If they don't find a solution soon, they'll lose everything."
Damien shrugged, his expression indifferent. "So? Why should we care? Whether they go bankrupt or lose it all, it doesn't affect us."
Vittorio's gaze darkened, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched his son's lack of concern. "Giovanni Moretti called me last week."
Damien's expression remained unchanged, though a flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes.
"He asked for help," Vittorio continued. "He can't bear to watch the power he's built over the years vanish into thin air. So, I met him three days ago—while you were in New York, handling the hotel project."
Damien leaned forward, a frown crossing his face. "You went to Naples?"
Vittorio nodded. "We talked for hours. After some back-and-forth, we came to a decision."
Damien's frown deepened. "What decision?"
Vittorio's voice took on a calculating tone, his eyes gleaming with power. "We'll give them 10 percent of our shares and offer them protection."
Damien's brows shot up, confusion flashing across his face. "And why would we do that? You never give anything for free."
Vittorio chuckled softly, his dark gaze gleaming. "Of course not, my son. In return, we gain control over half of Naples. Giovanni Moretti will hand over half of his power to us."
Damien's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. "And?"
Vittorio's smile turned cold, his next words leaving no room for debate. "And he will give us his eldest daughter. You will marry her, Damien."
Damien froze, his body tense as he stared at his father in disbelief. "What?"
Vittorio's gaze remained steady, his voice unwavering. "You'll marry Elena Moretti. This alliance will seal our power over Naples, and the Morettis will become part of the Cortelli empire."
The weight of his father's words settled heavily in the room, the gravity of the decision becoming all too clear.
As Vittorio exited the office, his usual air of authority trailing behind him, he glanced back at Luccia, giving her a silent nod. His unspoken command was clear—speak to Damien. With that, he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving the tension hanging in the air.
Damien stood abruptly, intending to follow his father, but before he could step out, he felt a soft yet firm hand grip his. He paused, looking down to find his mother, Luccia, holding his hand tightly. The worry etched in her green eyes tugged at him, but his frustration still simmered beneath the surface.
"Sit, Dami. Listen to me," she urged, her voice trembling slightly with fear for her son's future.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Mom, I can't just marry someone like that. Not like this. Dad can't make that decision for me." His jaw clenched, anger rippling through his voice.
Luccia's eyes softened as she looked at him with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Dami... your father gave his word to Moretti's. Nothing can change that now."
Damien's teeth ground together as he suppressed the fury rising within him. His voice was low, almost a growl. "I don't even know who the hell this daughter of Giovanni Moretti is," he spat out, his hands curling into fists.
Luccia flinched slightly, fearing his reaction but knowing the truth had to be said. "She's... she's only 15 years old, Dami."
The room fell silent as the weight of those words settled. Damien's face darkened, his anger intensifying. "She's a kid, Mom," he bit out, his voice rising. "How can I marry a child?"
Luccia's grip on his hand tightened, trying to soothe him. "You're not marrying her now," she said gently. "In 10 days, we'll go to Naples to meet Moretti's.. and their daughter. You'll be engaged, but the marriage won't happen until she turns 18."
Damien's eyes narrowed. "So what, I'm supposed to just wait around until she's old enough? And what if I don't want this?"
"I know this isn't what you wanted," Luccia said, her voice soft but laced with urgency. "But your father's word has already been given. In our world, promises like that aren't just words—they're bonds. And once a promise is made, you know there's no turning back."
She gently caressed his hand, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I don't have a picture of her, but you'll meet her soon. You can talk to her, see who she is. But Dami... this is the way things are. Your father has tied our family's future to this."
Damien closed his eyes briefly, swallowing his frustration. "Can't I say no? Can't I refuse?"
Luccia shook her head sadly. "No, my son. Vittorio gave his word, and you know how much that means in our world. There's no refusing this."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken tension. Damien's world, once so firmly in his control, now seemed to be slipping through his fingers.
------------------TO BE CONTINUE-------------