Chapter 4 - BIANCA’S VENOM
The following morning, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate’s east wing.
Clara stood in the center of a luxurious bedroom four times the size of her entire former apartment. High-threaded cotton sheets, hand-carved mahogany furniture, and a private balcony overlooking the autumn gardens surrounded her.
Mia was fast asleep on the massive bed, her stuffed rabbit tucked tightly under her arm, guarded by Pino, who had refused to leave the room all night.
Suddenly, the bedroom door was kicked open with violent force.
Donna Bianca Moretti—Silvio’s twenty-six-year-old daughter—strode into the room. She was dressed in a sleek red designer dress, her golden hair perfectly styled, her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom.
Behind her stood two of her father’s personal bodyguards.
“Where is she?!” Bianca shrieked, her high heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. She stopped when her eyes landed on Clara, who immediately stepped between Bianca and the bed where Mia slept.
“Donna Bianca,” Clara said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. “You cannot enter this room without Don Lorenzo’s permission.”
“Don Lorenzo’s permission?!” Bianca scoffed, her laugh high-pitched and hysterical. “You little peasant parasite! You think because you cried a few fake tears and used your bastard child to gain sympathy, you’ve secured a place in this house? My father built this syndicate’s financial network! I am supposed to be the mistress of this estate by the end of the month!”
“I didn't ask for any of this, Donna Bianca,” Clara said quietly, holding her head high. “I only want my daughter to be safe.”
“Safe?” Bianca stepped closer, raising her hand, her manicured nails aimed straight for Clara’s face. “I will make sure you and your pathetic child are floating in the river before the week is—"
CLACK.
Bianca’s wrist was caught mid-air in a grip of cold, unforgiving steel.
Lorenzo stood behind her. He hadn't even made a sound as he entered the room. His hand wrapped around Bianca’s wrist, squeezing just enough to make her gasp in pain, dropping her hand instantly.
“Lorenzo!” Bianca gasped, her eyes wide with shock and fury. “You’re hurting me!”
“You are in my house, Bianca,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a register that made her bodyguards step back in terror. “Raising a hand against a guest under my roof is an act of war.”
“A guest?!” Bianca shrieked, pointing her free hand at Clara. “She’s a servant! A floor-scrubber! My father and I came here to sign a treaty that secures your northern borders! Are you throwing away an empire for a maid?!”
Lorenzo released Bianca’s wrist with a dismissive flick of his hand, taking a step toward her. His dark eyes burned with an absolute, terrifying clarity.
“The treaty is dead,” Lorenzo announced calmly. “Tell your father he has two hours to vacate my estate. If I see a single Moretti vehicle on my roads after noon, I will consider it an invasion and act accordingly.”
Bianca stared at him, her face turning chalk-white as the reality of his words set in. Her family’s multi-million-dollar alliance, their political leverage, their future—all destroyed in a single sentence.
May you like
“You’re insane...” Bianca whispered, trembling with rage as she backed away toward the door. “My father will destroy you for this!”
“He is welcome to try,” Lorenzo said softly. “Now get out of my sight.”
