CHAPTER 25

The Moretti estate seemed darker that night, its sprawling corridors shrouded in an oppressive silence. Maya sat in Zane’s suite, her knees drawn to her chest as she stared at the flickering flames in the fireplace. The note she’d found earlier burned in her mind, its chilling message looping in her thoughts: 

*“She’s the key. Break her, and he falls.”* 

The weight of it pressed down on her. She couldn’t deny it anymore—she was a pawn in a game far more dangerous than she’d imagined. 

Zane entered the room quietly, his presence a comfort despite the tension lingering between them. He poured a glass of whiskey, his movements deliberate as he joined her by the fire. 

“You’re too quiet,” he said softly, his silver eyes studying her. 

Maya didn’t respond immediately, her fingers tightening around the blanket draped over her shoulders. “I keep wondering what they mean by ‘break her,’” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Zane’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to the fire. “It means they’ll stop at nothing to hurt you. To use you to get to me.” 

She turned to him, her green eyes searching his face. “Why? Why go through me instead of targeting you directly?” 

His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression hardening. “Because I’m too well-protected. And because they know hurting you would hurt me more than anything else.” 

The raw vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver through her. 

The next morning, Maya was determined not to let fear dictate her actions. She wasn’t going to cower while someone plotted her downfall. Instead, she resolved to gather her own information, starting with the surveillance room she’d found. 

She waited until Zane left for a meeting, then made her way to the western wing. The corridors were empty, the air heavy with the weight of her purpose. When she reached the room, she slipped inside, her heart pounding. 

The corkboard with its photos and notes still loomed ominously. Maya began sifting through the scattered papers on the desk, her hands trembling as she uncovered fragments of correspondence. 

One note caught her eye, written in bold, precise handwriting: 

*“The estate is impenetrable, but the staff can be turned. Start with the driver.”* 

Maya’s breath hitched. The driver. She hadn’t thought much about him since the brake incident, but the words on the note made her stomach churn. Could he have been involved? 

She shoved the paper into her pocket and continued searching. Among the clutter, she found a folded envelope marked with a name that sent chills through her: 

Donovan Scott.

Maya opened the envelope with shaking hands. Inside was a series of receipts, all indicating large cash transfers to an account linked to Donovan’s company. The dates matched the timeline of her arrival at the estate. 

Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t just about Helena or Luca anymore—Donovan was orchestrating something far larger. 

Maya barely made it back to the suite before Zane returned. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when he walked in, his silver eyes narrowing as he noticed her tension. 

“What is it?” he asked, closing the door behind him. 

Maya hesitated, then pulled the note and receipts from her pocket. “I found these in the surveillance room.” 

Zane’s expression darkened as he read the note, his grip tightening on the papers. “The driver,” he muttered. “If he’s involved…” 

He trailed off, his jaw tightening. 

“And Donovan,” Maya added, her voice trembling. “These receipts—they prove he’s been funneling money to someone inside the estate.” 

Zane set the papers down, his gaze turning cold. “This changes everything. Donovan’s always wanted to bring me down, but this… this is calculated.” 

“What do we do?” Maya asked, her voice laced with fear. 

Zane’s eyes met hers, a storm brewing in their silver depths. “We find out who’s been taking his money. And we shut them down before they can make another move.” 

That evening, Zane summoned Alex to the suite, his expression grim as he laid out the evidence Maya had uncovered. 

“We start with the driver,” Zane said, his voice sharp. “If he’s involved, he’s the weakest link. And he’ll crack under pressure.” 

Alex nodded, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll bring him in.” 

It didn’t take long for the driver, a wiry man in his late forties named Carlo, to arrive. His face was pale as he stepped into the suite, his eyes darting nervously between Zane and Alex. 

“What’s this about, Mr. Moretti?” Carlo asked, his voice trembling. 

Zane didn’t respond immediately, his gaze piercing. He gestured for Carlo to sit, his movements slow and deliberate. 

“I want to know who’s been paying you,” Zane said finally, his tone icy. 

Carlo’s eyes widened. “Paying me? I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Zane’s lips curved into a cold smile. “Don’t play dumb, Carlo. We know about the transfers. The question is, how much did Donovan offer you to sabotage my wife’s car?” 

Carlo’s face drained of color. “I don’t… I didn’t…” 

“Enough,” Alex snapped, stepping forward. “We have the receipts. We know the money went through you.” 

Carlo’s hands shook as he gripped the edge of the chair. “Alright, alright! It wasn’t my idea—I was approached.” 

“By who?” Zane demanded, his voice a dangerous growl. 

Carlo hesitated, his gaze darting toward the door as if considering an escape. But the weight of Zane’s presence pinned him in place. 

“Luca,” he admitted finally. “He said it was just to scare her. I didn’t know it would go this far.” 

Maya’s heart pounded as the words sank in. Luca had orchestrated the attack on her life. 

After Carlo was escorted out of the estate under Alex’s watch, Zane turned to Maya, his expression hard. 

“This is just the beginning,” he said, his voice low. “Luca and Donovan are working together, and they’ve made it clear they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get to us.” 

Maya nodded, her fear mingling with a growing resolve. “Then we have to stop them.” 

“We will,” Zane said, his hand brushing against her cheek. “But we have to be smart about it. We can’t let them see us coming.” 

As Zane spoke, Maya’s mind raced. She couldn’t shake the image of Luca’s smug smile or the way Isabella’s words seemed to echo with hidden meaning. 

She wasn’t just a pawn in this game anymore. She was a target. 

And she was determined to survive. 

That night, as Maya prepared for bed, another note appeared on her pillow. This time, it wasn’t hidden—it was placed deliberately, a bold declaration that her enemy was close. 

The words were simple but chilling: 

“You’re running out of time.”

Her hands shook as she read the note, but she refused to let the fear consume her. She tucked it into her nightstand, her mind already turning to the next move. 

If they wanted a war, she was ready to fight.