After one week,

In Catania:

Christian: Where are you going?”

Christian asked.

Christian: “Lucca.”

Alex replied.

Christian: “Why?”

Alex: “To deal with the Ricci family.”

Christian: “That means I have to go to Milan.”

Christian said flatly.

Alex: “It’s just murder. Easy, bro.”

Alex shrugged.

Christian: “I hate travelling.”

Alex: “You literally travel by private jet.”

Christian: “Still. It’s so boring.”

Alex smirked. “Is there anything that doesn’t bore you?”

Christian paused.

Christian: “Still to be found.”

Christian shrugged it off while Alex shook his head.

In Milan:

Walter: “You should leave before you collapse.”

Walter said.

Lucia: “I’m okay. Lucia replied.”

Walter: “You don’t look like it.”

Nica: “Yeah, Walter is right.”

Nica added. Lucia sneezed.

Nica: “We’ll handle your work. You should go,”

Nica said.

Lucia: “No, it’s fine.”

A smack landed on Lucia’s head.

Nica: “Why don’t you listen to us? It’s been a week—you’ve been sick”

Nica scolded.

Lucia: “You hit me.”

Lucia whined.

Nica: “Should I call your mom?”

Nica threatened.

Lucia: “No! I’m going”

Lucia sighed.

Nica: “That’s better.”

Lucia POV:

I wiped my runny nose and packed my bag. I don’t know what’s going on with me—it's been a week and there’s still no improvement. I should visit a doctor tomorrow.

After collecting my things, I left the company. My home is just ten minutes away.

Lucky, right?

I walked through the dark, quiet alley—my usual route. Suddenly, I heard a groan. It was so dark I could barely see anything. I stepped forward to help, then froze.

What I saw was beyond my imagination.

A murder.

A man dressed in a tailored suit—clean, sharp—stood in front of a dead body, a gun in his hand. I gulped and slowly stepped back, careful not to make a sound.

But luck betrayed me.

My phone rang.

“Mom.”

Oh shit.

They turned toward me. Before they could see my face, I ran. My heart pounded violently. I had just witnessed a murder. What should I do—report it to the police or stay silent?

I whimpered.

Why? Just why did it have to be me?

I pulled my cap low and rushed home. I took a hot shower, letting today’s memories drift away—the murder in front of my eyes, the blood, the man’s painful groan.

Next day:

I slowly opened my eyes.

I felt weaker than yesterday. The high fever and constant cough hadn’t let me sleep the entire night. Gathering whatever little courage and energy I had left, I forced myself to stand. My legs trembled as I walked out of my room and into the kitchen to drink some water.

As I sipped and turned—

I saw them….. It was Him.

I choked and started coughing violently.

Breathe, Lucia. Breathe.
They haven’t seen you yet. Act normal.

Lucia: “W-what the hell… who are you?”

No one reacted.

One man stood out from the rest—dressed impeccably, clean, elegant. I would be lying if I said he wasn’t handsome. He sat on the couch like a king on his throne.

He must be the boss.

He slowly stood up. His aura was dark—calm, dominant, terrifying. I held my ground, but he kept walking toward me, unhurried, controlled. He stopped when he was barely three inches away.

Christian: Light brown eyes.

His gaze locked onto mine, studying me like I was something rare. His voice dark and deep, enough to scare my hsit oout.

Christian: She’s the one. Take her.

…What?

Take her?
Was I a product now?

Within an instant, his men grabbed me. My body went numb—last night memory flooding my mind.

Lucia: Hey—hey! What are you doing? This is kidnapping, you know that, right?

Christian: Good to know you’re aware.

Before I could say another word, someone pressed a napkin over my nose.

The world blurred.

And then—darkness.

Lucia’s POV:

I regained consciousness.

Darkness—then voices.

Muffled at first. Distant. My head throbbed as if it were being split open. I tried to move but couldn’t. My wrists felt heavy—tied.

I forced my eyes open. The smell hit me first.

Blood.

Dried and metallic. Some of it splattered on the walls. The place was dusty, damp, and horrifying.

A basement… I guess.

I sucked in a sharp breath and instantly started coughing. My chest burned, my throat raw.

Man: “Don’t move.”

I turned my head. One of them—black suit, cold eyes. A gun was visible at his waist.

Lucia: “Where… where am I?”

No answer.

The door opened and the room shifted.

He walked in.

The same controlled steps. The same unreadable face. He stopped near me, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on me like he was assessing damage—not a person.

Christian: “You’re awake.”

I tried to move again. Failed.

Lucia: “You drugged me.”

Christian: “What did you see last night?”

My body went still.

Lucia: “…What?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. His face remained straight, emotionless, hands still inside his pockets.

Christian: “You heard me. Don’t deny it. You didn’t see nothing.”

I gulped.

Lucia: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My forehead cover in sweat.

Christian: “Too bad for you.”

Our eyes locked. Silence stretched—thick and suffocating.

He stepped closer. Too close again.

Lucia: “What do you want? Leave me.”

Christian: “You were in the wrong place. At the wrong time. Sadly, you have to pay now.”

My breath hitched.

Lucia: “Which place? What are you talking about?”

My voice cracked midway. He leaned in just enough for his words to sink deep.

Christian: “First time someone saw me murdering someone. You’re my first witness.”

One corner of his lips twitched—not a smile. Something colder. I remained silent.

Christian: “Let’s talk when you remember everything.”

With that, he turned and left. The door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

Lucia’s POV ends.