Chapter 59

Lorenzo’s sharp intake of breath was audible through the line. Despite his power and influence, there was nothing that concerned him more than his daughter’s well-being. “I will handle this,” he said firmly. “Sleep over tonight in case she needs anything.”

“Of course,” Marco replied before hanging up.

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Minutes later, Valentina’s phone buzzed on her nightstand. She ignored it at first, thinking it was Everly. But when the buzzing persisted, she glanced at the screen through blurry eyes. Papa.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the decline button. But she knew her father well enough to know he wouldn’t stop calling until she picked up. With a shaky hand, she pressed the green button and put the phone to her ear.

“Ciao, papà,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ciao, mia cara,” Lorenzo’s voice was soft but filled with concern. “Marco told me you were upset. What’s wrong, tesoro? Talk to me.”

The familiar warmth in his voice broke down the walls she had been trying to build. Tears welled up again as she tried to speak, but all that came out were choked sobs.

“Rose,” Lorenzo said gently, switching to Italian entirely, knowing it would comfort her. “Ascoltami, figlia mia. Sei forte, ma non devi affrontare tutto da sola. Dimmi cosa ti sta succedendo.”

(Listen to me, my daughter. You are strong, but you don’t have to face everything alone. Tell me what is happening.)

“Non posso, papà,” Valentina managed through her tears. (I can’t, Papa.)

“Puoi sempre parlare con me,” Lorenzo insisted, his tone both gentle and firm. (You can always talk to me.) “Se qualcuno ti ha fatto del male, lo sistemerò io stesso. Dimmi, mia piccola principessa.” (If someone has hurt you, I will handle it myself. Tell me, my little princess.)

Valentina shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “Non è così semplice…” she whispered. (It’s not that simple...)

“Nulla è mai semplice, tesoro,” Lorenzo replied, his voice calm and steady. (Nothing is ever simple, my dear.) “Ma io sono tuo padre. È mio dovere aiutarti, non importa quanto sia complicato.”

(But I am your father. It is my duty to help you, no matter how complicated it is.)

His words wrapped around her like a safety net, and for a moment, the weight on her chest lightened just a bit. But she still couldn’t bring herself to explain everything, not yet.

“Papà, sto bene,” she said finally, though her trembling voice betrayed her. (Papa, I’m fine).

“Val,” Lorenzo said, his tone firmer now, “non mentirmi. Posso sentire che non stai bene.” (Don’t lie to me. I can hear that you are not fine.)

She let out a shaky breath, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Ho solo bisogno di stare sola per un po’. Prometto che starò meglio domani.” (I just need to be alone for a while. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow.)

Lorenzo was silent for a moment, and she could picture him running a hand through his neatly combed hair, a telltale sign of his frustration. “Se questo è quello che vuoi,” he said finally, though his reluctance was clear. (If this is what you want.) “Ma domani ti chiamerò di nuovo. E, Valentina… ricordati che ti voglio bene.” (But I will call you again tomorrow. And, Valentina… remember that I love you.)

“Anch’io ti voglio bene, papà,” she whispered before hanging up. (I love you too, Papa.)

She put the phone down and leaned back against the door, her tears slowing, but her heart was still aching. Lorenzo, on the other end, sat in his luxurious office, his hands clenched into fists as he vowed to find out what had hurt his daughter so deeply. No one hurt his princess and got away with it. He remembered that that boy Emilio was also at the party so he decided to call him.

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The dimly lit basement of Emilio’s private mansion was filled with the stench of blood and sweat. Chains clanked against the stone walls as the man tied to the chair whimpered, his face swollen and bruised. Emilio stood a few feet away, his black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his blood-smeared forearms. His eyes were cold, detached, as he wiped a knife clean with slow, deliberate movements.

“Please… I told you everything,” the man whimpered, his voice trembling. “I swear I didn’t mean to cross you—”

Emilio’s lip curled into a cruel smirk. “Meaning doesn’t matter when loyalty is broken.” His voice was calm, almost dispassionate, but it carried the weight of an unspoken threat.

Before he could take another step toward the trembling traitor, his phone buzzed on the nearby table. Emilio frowned, irritation flickering in his eyes. He didn’t like interruptions during these… sessions. But when he saw the name on the screen, his expression shifted. Lorenzo.

He exhaled sharply, trying to compose himself. Lorenzo wasn’t just any man; he was Valentina’s father, his girl's father. The thought of her sent a pang of guilt through him, but he buried it quickly. Emilio grabbed the phone and answered, his voice cool but respectful.

“Signor De Luca,” Emilio greeted, his tone much calmer than his current environment would suggest.

On the other end, Lorenzo’s deep, authoritative voice cut through the line. “Emilio, I trust I am not interrupting anything…important?”

Emilio glanced at the man tied to the chair, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle later,” Emilio replied, his voice steady. He leaned against the table, keeping his attention on the call. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

Lorenzo’s tone shifted, taking on the edge of a concerned father. “It’s about my daughter. Valentina. She came home tonight in tears, and she refused to tell me what happened. She locked herself in her room and won’t let anyone in. Marco called me, worried, and now I’m calling you because you were at the same party.”

The mention of Valentina’s tears was like a knife to Emilio’s chest. His grip on the phone tightened as he fought to maintain his composure. “She’s upset?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The memory of her running out of the party, crying, flashed through his mind.

“Very,” Lorenzo confirmed. “You know her better than most, Emilio. If something happened tonight, I expect you to tell me.”

Emilio took a slow breath, his frustration from earlier threatening to boil over. But he wasn’t about to let Lorenzo sense his turmoil. “Signor Lorenzo,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I assure you, I care deeply about Valentina. What happened tonight was… a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean for her to be hurt.”

“A misunderstanding?” Lorenzo’s voice sharpened. “Do you realize how fragile she is right now? Whatever happened, Emilio, it has clearly devastated her.”

Emilio closed his eyes briefly, guilt gnawing at him. He couldn’t tell Lorenzo the full truth—not yet, anyway. Explaining that Aiden, his own commander and so-called friend, had orchestrated the situation would only make things worse. “I’ll fix it,” he said firmly. “Whatever it takes, I’ll make this right.”

Lorenzo was silent for a moment, and Emilio could imagine the older man pacing in his luxurious office, his mind racing. “See that you do,” Lorenzo said finally, his tone cold. “But remember this, Emilio: Valentina is my only child. If you let her down again, no amount of power or influence will protect you from me. I will not even care about who you are. Trust me on this”

Emilio’s jaw tightened. He understood the warning loud and clear. “Understood,” he replied, his voice steady. “I won’t let her down.”

Lorenzo hung up without another word, leaving Emilio staring at the phone in his hand. He clenched it tightly before setting it back on the table. His dark eyes flicked toward the man tied to the chair, who flinched under his gaze.

“Lucky for you, we’re done here,” Emilio muttered, grabbing a clean towel to wipe his hands. He gestured for one of his men to take over, then turned and left the basement without another glance.

As he ascended the stairs, his mind raced. Lorenzo’s words echoed in his head, but it was his girl’s tear-streaked face that haunted him most. He had to fix this. Not just to appease her father, but because the thought of her hurting because of him was unbearable.

And Emilio never left things unfinished.

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