Their kiss deepened slowly, unhurried, as if neither of them wanted to be the first to pull away. Lorenzo lifted her into his arms and carried her back into the room, their lips never parting, their breaths mingling as one. He lowered himself onto the sofa and guided Isabella onto his lap, her legs instinctively wrapping around him.‎‎She felt how tightly he was holding her, how his body reacted to her closeness, and the awareness sent a warm rush through her veins. It made her cling to him, fingers curling into his shirt as a quiet sound escaped her throat.‎‎Isabella felt his growing erection pressing against her panties, and the sensation only made her wetter than she already was.‎‎A soft moan escaped her lips as his kiss grew more demanding, before he reluctantly pulled away. Both of them were breathless.‎‎Lorenzo finally pulled back, resting his forehead against hers as they struggled to catch their breath.‎‎“Baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint, “I don’t w

the next day, Power did not arrive with applause. It arrived quietly. Like a knife sliding between ribs. Isabella felt it the moment they left the Council chamber—the subtle shift in the way the guards looked at her, the hesitation before doors were opened, the sudden silence that followed her steps. No one bowed. No one needed to. They already knew. She was no longer just Lorenzo De Luca’s weakness. She was his axis. The safehouse they were taken to afterward was not a refuge—it was a gilded cage. Stone walls reinforced with steel. Cameras hidden behind carved wood. Guards positioned just far enough to seem respectful. Lorenzo noticed everything. Isabella noticed something else. Him. He hadn’t spoken since they left the Council. Not a word. Not even to Lucio. He walked beside her like a shadow given flesh, shoulders rigid, jaw locked, eyes burning with a restrained violence that felt barely contained beneath his skin. When the heavy door closed behind them

The world learned Isabella’s name overnight.Not whispered. Not rumored.Broadcast.Screens across cities lit up with her face—calm, composed, unreadable—as headlines burned beneath her image.THE COUNCIL ANNOUNCES A NEW VOICE FOR STABILITYISABELLA MORETTI APPOINTED INTERMEDIARYA PROMISE OF PEACELies wrapped in polished language.Isabella stood alone in a white room as the announcement aired for the tenth time. No windows. No mirrors. Just a single chair and a camera watching her breathe.She didn’t move.Didn’t blink.She had known this part would hurt.She hadn’t known it would hurt this much.THE WORLD TURNSThe backlash came within minutes.“Traitor.” “Sellout.” “Council puppet.”Former allies erased her name. Neutral territories closed their doors. People she once protected spat at her image from behind screens.A feed scrolled endlessly in front of her.She sold her soul.She’s just another mask for power.I believed in her once. Never again.Isabella felt each word like a bl

The house looked ordinary.That was the cruelest part.A quiet street.Trimmed hedges.Warm lights glowing behind lace curtains.The kind of place neighbors described as respectable.Lorenzo watched it from across the road, jaw tight, pulse slow and controlled. He had survived wars, betrayals, brothers turning into enemies—but nothing had ever unsettled him like this.Because this wasn’t a battlefield.It was a cage pretending to be a home.Lucio checked his watch. “Pattern hasn’t changed. He comes home at twenty-one thirty. No guards. No cameras outside.”“No cameras doesn’t mean no control,” Lorenzo said quietly.Lucio glanced at him. “You’re angry.”“Yes,” Lorenzo replied. “But I’m not reckless.”That was true.Which was exactly why Lucio was worried.Isabella’s mother sat at the kitchen table, hands folded in her lap.Maria Moretti had once been beautiful in a way that filled rooms. Now her beauty was muted—pressed flat by years of careful silence. Her hair was streaked with gray

The first sign wasn’t violence.It was silence.No updates.No warnings.No chatter on the encrypted channels that never truly slept.Lucio noticed it just after dawn.He stood in the operations room, staring at the screens like they might blink back to life if he stared hard enough.“They’re dark,” he said quietly.Lorenzo didn’t look up from the table where he was assembling a rifle with slow, deliberate precision. “All of them?”Lucio nodded. “Every auxiliary contact. Every external relay.”Isabella felt the shift immediately.The air changed.This wasn’t chaos.This was design.“They’ve activated it,” she said.Lorenzo’s hands paused.“The contingency,” Lucio murmured.The Council’s last resort.When influence failed. When threats didn’t work. When fear stopped being effective.They erased.It arrived without warning.A single secure transmission pushed through the blackout, forcing itself onto every screen in the safehouse.No Council seal. No signatures.Just text.YOU WERE WARN