As the days turned into weeks, Elena found herself spending more and more time at the Moretti estate. She worked tirelessly on the portrait of Caterina, but the longer she stayed, the more questions swirled in her mind. Who was Don Vincenzo, really? Was he the grieving husband he seemed to be, or was there something darker lurking beneath the surface? And why did his interest in her seem to grow with each passing day?
One evening, as she worked late into the night, a shadow crossed the threshold of the room. Elena looked up to see one of Don Vincenzo's bodyguards standing in the doorway, his presence imposing.
"Miss Rossi," he said curtly, "Don Vincenzo requests your presence in his office."
Elena hesitated, then set her brush down. Something in the guard's eyes told her this wasn't a simple matter of discussing the art. She followed him through the mansion's long corridors, her heart pounding in her chest.
When they arrived at his office, the door opened to reveal Don Vincenzo standing by the window, gazing out at the city below. The lights of the city were like a reflection of the power he held—distant, but ever-present.
"Come in, Elena," he said without turning around. "We need to discuss the future.