Luca’s Mother Elsa Salvador, years ago, had been forced by her family into marrying Mr. Salvador, a wealthy, controlling man she didn’t love. It had ripped her from Dorian and their infant son, Luca. Salvador’s grip had been iron, his power extending into every corner of her life. She had lived in luxury but with chains she could never break out of. Elara’s tears now were not only for joy but for regret, the years stolen from her, from him. She had followed his life from afar, watched his rise, his struggles, his pain… and now, his happiness. She had not been there when he fell, nor when he rose again. She was nothing more than a ghost in his life. What right could she possibly have to show her face on his special moment? She had never been there. Wilson Brown noticed the strange woman, his sharp eyes caught her from afar. He approached him quietly, his voice low and calm. “You shouldn’t be here unless invited.” Elsa turned slowly, her tears betraying a strengt

The morning sun streamed softly through the curtains, casting golden patterns over Amelia’s bare shoulder as she slept, curled peacefully against the pillow. Luca leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring one last moment of stillness before quietly slipping out of bed. He dressed quickly, he wore a dark shirt, well tailored slacks, and the familiar weight of his watch on his wrist. His reflection in the mirror showed a man no longer burdened by uncertainty, but there was still a question gnawing at him, one name ringing in his head like an old wound reopened. Elsa Salvador, why had she come? Why now? And what did she want? It was time he faced her in person, there was no need to alert his dad just yet about his one and only true love, who left them for someone else. Although it wasn't intentional but she stayed away, no messages, no letters, nothing. So why had she come now? What is the reason she was there on his wedding day staring at him and s

The news hit Luca like a blade to the chest. For one brief second, his pulse stopped, his hand still clutching Salvador’s collar as Wilson’s words echoed through his head: Amelia isn’t answering her security detail. The very next second, everything inside him roared to life. He shoved Salvador back against the wall so hard that one of the paintings tilted sideways, nearly falling. Salvador’s smirk faltered, but he masked it quickly with an icy grin. “You touch her, and you die slowly,” Luca said, his voice vibrating with lethal calm. Salvador adjusted his robe like nothing had happened, but his eyes held a flicker of something Luca hadn’t seen before—hesitation. “You think everything is about you, boy. Maybe she just went shopping without telling you.” Luca leaned closer, eyes sharp enough to cut steel. “I’ll only ask once. Where. Is. She?” Salvador spread his hands innocently, but there was the slightest quiver in his fingers. “I wouldn’t know. Perhaps she’s… with someo

The morning wind carried the faint hum of the private jet’s engines as it idled on the runway. Salvador froze at Luca’s voice, then slowly turned, his face pale under the rising sun. He looked older now, the stress of losing his empire written in deep lines across his face. “Going somewhere?” Luca repeated, his tone soft but sharp enough to cut. Salvador tried to smirk, but it faltered halfway. “A man like me doesn’t stay in one place for too long, boy. You of all people should know that.” Luca stepped forward, Amelia at his side, her eyes fixed coldly on the man who had tried to destroy her life. “A man like you runs when everything collapses,” Luca said. “And it has. Your money’s frozen. Your people flipped. Your politicians abandoned you. You don’t even have enough men left to guard your own plane.” Salvador’s eyes darted around, confirming what Luca had already said—there were no guards near the hangar now, just two men who looked more scared than loyal. “You think thi

The estate felt heavier with Elsa’s presence, not hostile, just weighted with the kind of silence that carried old memories. Luca sat at the edge of the balcony that evening, his elbows resting on his knees. Amelia joined him quietly, sitting beside him without speaking. She knew his thoughts were tangled; he’d barely spoken since Elsa had shown up. “Say it,” Amelia said softly. Luca glanced at her. “Say what?” “That you don’t know whether to hug her or tell her to leave.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You read me too well.” The next morning, Luca walked into the kitchen to find Elsa at the counter, wearing an apron, quietly chopping vegetables. The scent of onions and garlic filled the air. She looked up and froze, a knife in one hand. “I… thought I’d make breakfast. Something you used to like when you were little. Do you remember spinach frittatas?” Luca didn’t answer right away. “I don’t remember much from back then.” Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she