Bruce sat behind the wheel of the black sedan he had rented, parked across the street. He watched Isabella through the café window from behind the windshield.She was still seated at the table, the phone pressed against her ear, her expression growing increasingly frustrated as she argued with her father.Bruce reached up and adjusted the tiny earpiece in his ear. He listened to every word of Isabella's conversation with her father.While they were talking about literature earlier, he secretly planted a tiny, invisible device under the edge of the table. It was a calculated risk, but necessary for his mission.Yuji sat in the back seat, surrounded by a small arsenal of laptops, signal devices, and encrypted communication equipment. His fingers danced over the keyboard, retrieving data, cross-referencing names, and monitoring flights.Bruce kept his gaze fixed on Isabella through the windshield. She was still on the phone with her father, her free hand gesturing sharply. He could hea

Bruce stared at the screen, unable to believe what he saw. The private room was silent except for the faint sound of Enzo's angry voice still coming through the speakers.On the screen, Isabella was already gone"I can't believe this guy," Bruce said, turning to Yuji. "How do you fumble a woman like Isabella on your first date? She gave him every chance. And he just kept on talking."Yuji's fingers hovered over his keyboard. "Some men are experts at self-destruction, Master Bruce. Enzo Marchetti seems to be one of the best."Bruce shook his head. "This operation took me hours to plan. And this fool managed to ruin himself before I even got to use half of my plans."Yuji looked at the monitor, seeing Isabella's silhouette vanish down the street. "Master Bruce, Isabella is leaving now. You need to hurry up."Bruce stood up immediately. "It's showtime."He quietly slipped out of the private room, passed through the kitchen, and exited through the back door into the alley behind the resta

Bruce stirred as the pale morning light filtered in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The ceiling above was unfamiliar, and the sheets beneath him felt like silk. The air carried the scent of lavender mixed with something warm and unmistakably feminine.Then, he felt a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.Isabella lay beside him, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her head resting against his shoulder. One of her hands rested gently against his chest, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. She was still asleep, her lips slightly parted, her expression peaceful in a way he hadn't seen before.Bruce caught his breath.Memories of the previous night flooded back in a mad rush—the whiskey, the firelight, and the way she had looked at him before she closed the distance between them. He remembered how soft her lips were, the warmth radiating from her skin, and the way her fingers tangled in his hair.He remembered it all.He had sl

Later that evening, Bruce arrived at the Hotel. Inside, the lobby was too quiet. Two men dressed in plain dark suits stood by the reception desk. They didn’t speak at first. They simply watched him approach, then one of them gave a small nod and gestured toward a private elevator tucked behind a marble column.Bruce followed them to the private elevator without a moment's hesitation. One of the men pressed a button, and the doors slid open. They stepped inside, and the doors shut behind them.The man standing to Bruce's left stepped forward. "Hold your arms out."Bruce complied. The man patted him down, checking his jacket, waist, legs, and ankles. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to his partner.The elevator doors opened.They entered a hallway adorned with gold-framed mirrors and covered in thick carpet that softened their footsteps. At the end of the hall, double doors stood open, revealing a private suite beyond them.As Bruce entered, his attention was immediately caught by the

Three days have passed since Lucy last saw Bruce. In the space of those three days, a lot had happened. The house which she had bought to raise her son was no longer hers. The day after Bruce's last visit, the Watson family moved in as if they were invaders. Her father, Gerald Watson, had taken the master bedroom without asking. He then spent the rest of the day in the armchair by the television, barking orders and grumbling about the temperature, the food, and the quality of the sheets."You call this coffee?" he had grumbled earlier that morning, pushing the mug aside. "It tastes like dishwater. When I was running the company, my assistant knew exactly how to brew a proper cup."Lucy had bitten her tongue and wheeled herself to the kitchen to make another pot.Her mother, Brenda, had taken over the guest room and immediately begun bossing her around like she owned the house. Sometimes, Lucy could hear her mother through the thin walls, gossiping about her to her friends."I don'