"Ms. Sinclair!" Dr. Riffe roared, slamming his hands on the desk as he stood up, his voice trembling with both anger and fear. "You have no proof. This is slander! I will ruin you! Not just here, but in the entire academic world!"Despite his loud voice, the quiver in his tone betrayed his insecurity. Lyla wasn’t intimidated. She smirked, taking two steps back. "How do you know I don't have evidence? Let's wait and see." With those words, she turned to leave.Dr. Riffe panicked. He rushed out from behind his desk, shouting, "Lyla, don’t think I don’t know about your past. I did your background check. You think I don’t know why you quit your PhD?"Lyla froze in her tracks. Hearing him mention her past, memories came flooding back like daggers stabbing her from behind. She clenched her fists, paralyzed in place.Sensing her weakness, Dr. Riffe's voice turned smug. "Got you, didn’t I? Lyla Sinclair, rumors about you engaging in inappropriate sexual relations with a subject to get your exp
After Dr. Riffe stormed out, the office was plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by Lyla's quickened breaths as fear and tension consumed her. She looked at Carlo, who was still staring coldly at the door, his expression darker and more menacing than it had been three years ago when he'd faced Jessica. That chilling, unfamiliar look unsettled her deeply.Moments later, a soft "drip" echoed in the room. A drop of blood fell from Carlo’s hand, hitting the floor with a quiet splash. Lyla followed his gaze and saw his hand, the same one that had punched the wall, now bleeding. A deep cut stretched across his knuckles, the edge of the wall having sliced into his skin, and blood slowly seeped from the wound.Lyla sighed softly. She walked over and gently took his hand, examining it. "Come to my office," she said. "I'll find some bandages."Unexpectedly, Carlo yanked his hand away. “What happened three years ago?” His eyes were cold and sharp as he demanded, "What scandal was he talkin
Hudson didn't report back to his master as quickly as Carlo had hoped.His call didn’t come until the evening. Though gathering the information took some time, it wasn’t beyond Hudson's capabilities. The real delay came from the sheer weight of the revelation. He had to carefully consider how to deliver the news to his young master.When Hudson finally called, Carlo was in a secluded spot on campus, in a small grove of trees. Empty beer cans littered the ground near a paper bag, and in his hand, he held a belt, repeatedly lashing it against a tree trunk to vent his pent-up rage.He had been doing this for who knows how long. The thick tree trunk was scarred, with a large section almost entirely stripped of bark, exposing pale wood beneath. His unbandaged hand had long since reopened the wound from earlier, the jagged tear in his knuckles dripping dark, congealed blood.Carlo didn’t stop his frenzied assault until the Hermès belt in his hand finally gave way, snapping under the pressur
After parking the car, Carlo practically sprinted to Lyla’s apartment.“Lyli, open the door. I need to talk to you,” he called, knocking on the door. But there was no response. He waited for a few minutes, and still, nothing.“Lyla, open the door. I know you’re home!” His knocking turned into frantic pounding. With both hands pressed against the door, Carlo hung his head, unable to suppress the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him—anger, sorrow, pity, and an unbearable heartache.It was only after learning the truth that Carlo began to understand Lyla’s unusual behavior. Her coldness, her tears, and her emotional outbursts—all stemmed from a wound that cut her to the bone. She had once been so proud, passionate, and brave—all the qualities that had drawn Carlo to her. But now, those same qualities, along with her dreams, had been trampled on.His heart ached with an overwhelming desire to hold her, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her fiercely. Even if she hit or kicked him, he wo
After Carlo removed his shirt, there were no further strange actions—he simply took a few steps forward and sat down beside Lyla on the sofa. This was the first time Lyla had seen his bare upper body. His physique was powerful and well-defined, his bronze skin glowing healthily under the soft light, and his six-pack abs looked chiseled, every inch seemingly brimming with raw strength.Though she knew this wasn’t the time, Lyla couldn’t stop herself from blushing at the sight, a natural reaction from her body. Awkward and flustered, she quickly lowered her head, avoiding any further glances at him. With a hint of irritation and nervousness in her voice, she warned, “I’m telling you, don’t try anything dangerous. I will call the police, and I mean it…”The next second, Carlo grabbed her hand and placed it firmly on his left shoulder. The coolness of her palm met his warm, bare skin, and it felt like touching hot iron. Lyla’s fingers instinctively curled up in tension. She tried to pull
Lyla could feel the intense heat and pressure radiating from his body, making her heartbeat erratic. Carlo suddenly lifted his head, his gaze darkening with a forceful, unyielding intensity. He placed his hand on her denim-clad hips, his touch firm but not painful, as if he was holding back a restless urge. One by one, their clothes fell away, exposing Lyla’s skin to the warm air, and she could feel the temperature in the room rise with it.His fingers trailed over her shoulder, the heat from his touch sending a shiver down her spine. It felt as though Carlo was in command of every inch of her skin. Bit by bit, her rational thoughts crumbled under the weight of his gentle yet relentless actions, her resistance melting away as her body responded to his.That night, in the empty apartment they no longer called home, their bodies intertwined, giving into the raw, unrestrained passion. They moved until they were utterly spent, their skin marked with the evidence of the night’s intensity—C
Leonardo Ferretti now resides in a small coastal town along the eastern shoreline. Ever since waking from his three-year coma just three months ago, he relocated to this quiet place to recover and undergo rehabilitation.Carlo drove for four hours before finally arriving at the mansion perched on the edge of a cliff.The salty sea breeze whipped against the rocky shoreline, and the distant sound of crashing waves felt like a deep, unsettling murmur. The mansion stood tall and imposing at the highest point of the coastline, like a fortress detached from the rest of the world. Yet, for Carlo, this place wasn’t one of safety or comfort. Instead, it was filled with shadows and hostility.As soon as he stepped out of the car, Leonardo's butler approached, bowing slightly. “Sir, Mr. Ferretti is resting. He’s requested that you wait in the sitting room,” he said. Carlo nodded and followed him inside. The mansion’s interior was as grand and opulent as ever, with intricate décor that spoke of
Carlo stepped into his father’s study, and the stifling air hit him immediately. The room was steeped in silence, with only the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs outside, as if the ocean itself was sighing endlessly. Near the large floor-to-ceiling windows, Leonardo Ferretti sat quietly in his wheelchair, his gaze unfocused as it lingered on the vast ocean before him, lost in a state of deep, weary contemplation.At sixty, Leonardo's body was beginning to show signs of aging. Three years ago, an assassination attempt from a family rival nearly claimed his life. Though he miraculously survived the gunshot wound to the head, it left him comatose for three years. He had only recently regained consciousness three months ago, but the ordeal had taken its toll. His once powerful physique had withered, and now he moved with difficulty, his pallor a stark reminder of his vulnerability.This man, who once led the most powerful Mafia family on the East Coast with an iron fist, w
Lyla woke up in an unfamiliar room. As she slowly opened her eyes, the dimly lit space made it difficult to observe where she was. The high ceilings and vintage furniture exuded an air of luxury, yet it felt cold and impersonal. Heavy curtains blocked out any light from the outside, leaving the faint, warm glow of a bedside lamp as the room's only illumination.This was clearly not a hospital, but the IV in her arm told a different story. For a moment, she was disoriented, her sense of time muddled. What injury had she sustained? What illness was she recovering from? Fragments of her past—the fight in the prison and the car accident—flashed in her mind. Then, a sharp pain in her lower abdomen pulled her back to reality. A flood of memories surged forth—she might have lost her child.Panic took hold. She sat up abruptly, ignoring the tug of the IV, and instinctively placed her hand over her abdomen.“Lyla, you’re awake. Are you okay?” Lucas’s voice came from beside her. Once a source o
The car sped down the desolate highway. Lucas told Lyla that Carlo would surely send someone to search her mother’s house. It was safer to stay away from her mother, both for Camilla’s safety and her own. He promised to take her to his hometown—a peaceful, quiet place where she could stay until the baby was born.Lyla, unsure where else to go, silently agreed to his plan. Resting her head against the window, she watched the scenery blur past like a fast-forwarded film. Her mind wandered back to moments with Carlo—his sudden appearances, abrupt disappearances, his truths and lies, and the magnetic charm that had once captivated her. She found herself questioning: was it the man she had fallen for, or simply the physical connection between them? More than once, she wished it had only been about his looks—the sculpted body, the possessive control, and the irresistible allure. If that were all, she wouldn’t be in this much pain. There wouldn’t be the betrayal, the despair. The only ce
Hudson’s words left Lucas frozen, unable to recover from the shock. Before he could fully process what he had just heard, Hudson continued, “Listen, Lucas. Ending the pregnancy is for everyone's best. Without the baby, Lyla will have no ties to Sir Carlo. Mrs. Bianchi won’t waste her time going after her, and she’ll lose her value to Blake. Her life will be spared, and you won’t have to pay an even steeper price. Isn’t that a better option than killing her outright?”Hudson’s voice buzzed in Lucas’s ears, like an incessant drone.He couldn’t deny the fact that Hudson's words were convincing. Without the baby, the bond between Lyla and Carlo would be irrevocably severed. A few minutes of tense silence passed before Lucas made his decision.“What do you want me to do?” he croaked, his voice rough with resignation. “I can’t guarantee it will be completely safe to… end it. You clearly have a plan, don't you? What is it?”“Of course, I have a plan,” Hudson replied smoothly, unfazed by Lucas
"Who the hell do you think you are to order me around?" Lucas stormed forward, grabbing Carlo by the collar, his voice shaking with fury. "I warned you—if you hurt her again, I’ll never forgive you.""What the hell does this have to do with you?!" Carlo snapped, shoving Lucas's hand away. He didn’t even know who he was truly angry with, but the storm of emotions raging inside him demanded release. "She’s carrying my baby! Of course, I’ll protect her and the baby. This is none of your fucking business!""Enough!" Lyla’s voice cut through the tension, low but sharp. She clutched her still-flat stomach, her eyes brimming with pain and despair. "This isn’t your baby, Carlo. And I will never let you see it. You don’t deserve to be a husband, a father, or to be loved!"Though she spoke quietly, afraid of being overheard, her words were like daggers. The raspy, restrained anguish in her tone sliced through the night, hitting Carlo like a blow to the chest. His voice trembled as he tried to p
"Who is this woman?!" Isabella quickly approached Carlo, her eyes sharp with suspicion as she examined the disheveled, tear-streaked woman before her. The stranger's casual attire was out of place for the elegant engagement party, and she clearly wasn’t one of the household staff either.Carlo clenched his fists tightly, avoiding Lyla's gaze and refusing to meet Isabella's eyes either. His voice was cold and detached as he replied, "I don’t know. Just some crazy woman. I found her acting suspicious, so I followed her out to check. No big deal. I'll call Hudson to handle this. Come on, babe, let’s head back. We shouldn’t keep the guests waiting."He grabbed Isabella’s arm, attempting to lead her away, but she jerked free. "A crazy woman?" she snapped, clearly irritated. "I won’t allow anyone to ruin our engagement party. There’s no need to bother Hudson over this."With a sharp snap of her fingers, two burly men stepped out from the shadows at her beckon. Speaking in Italian, one asked
The mansion was enormous, filled with laughter and brightly lit from corner to corner. Lyla fought back tears and nausea as she tried to navigate her way out, relying on her memory of how she had arrived. She was aware that Carlo was silently following her, but he dared not call out to her in front of the crowd, and she dared not stop. They weaved through the bustling throng of guests, Lyla quickening her pace with each step, until she finally reached the dark, desolate vineyard.“Stop following me!” Lyla couldn’t hold it in any longer. The emotions she had been suppressing erupted as she turned to Carlo and screamed, her voice raw and miserable. “Don’t you have more important things to do? Go back! Be a happy fiancé! Why should you care if I live or die? I don’t need you anymore! I never will!”Her screams were filled with such pain and despair that she seemed like a porcelain doll, covered in cracks and on the verge of shattering at any moment. Carlo’s instinct was to rush forward a
Lyla sat quietly at a secluded table, her gaze fixed on the center of the grand ballroom. There, Carlo, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was recounting the story of how he and Isabella met and fell in love.Just minutes ago, Blake had escorted her to this dimly lit corner. He had placed her at an inconspicuous table, posted two men to keep an eye on her, and then disappeared.When she arrived, she caught the tail end of Leonardo’s announcement—Carlo being granted the family name and partial control of its power. Carlo stood proudly beside his father, with his mother on the other side, her arm looped around Leonardo’s, her smile radiant. They looked like the perfect family, united and unshakable. Carlo’s expression was brimming with triumph, his striking green eyes gleaming with ambition and a hunger for power—something Lyla had never seen in him before. In that moment, he felt like a stranger to her.Now, the spotlight had shifted to Carlo and Isabella. The stunning, confident
The mansion on the seaside cliff was unusually lively today. The engagement party of Carlo Ferretti and Isabella Cavalieri wasn’t just a union of two powerful Mafia families; it symbolized their collective expansion into international territories. The Cavalieri family had flown in hundreds of members from Europe, while the Ferretti family made an equally impressive show of force, gathering nearly all their key figures. Adding to the grandeur were representatives from other factions hoping to curry favor with the two Mafia dynasties.The whole thing felt like a royal wedding—lavish and over the top.For Carlo, this wasn’t just another party—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He had spent over two decades fighting for recognition within his family. While his initial agreement to marry Isabella had been a strategy to save Lyla, recent developments had shifted his perspective. Just before the engagement, his father, Leonardo, had visited him in the hospital despite his failing hea
Lyla felt like she’d been hit over the head, her mind foggy and spinning. Stumbling, she grabbed onto the table for support, picking up the invitation and staring at it as if she didn’t recognize the words. She flipped it over, studying it again and again.“No… I don’t believe it,” she murmured, her voice trembling as if she were trying to convince herself. “He told me Isabella was only six. They… they can’t be getting engaged.”“Oh, so that’s what he told you?” Blake sneered. “No wonder. When you heard it yourself that day, I thought your temper would have you walking out on him for good. But looks like even a stupid lie like that was enough to fool you. Ah, poor girl. I almost feel sorry for you.”Lyla shook her head, unsure if she was rejecting Blake’s words or denying that Carlo had lied. Her eyes filled with tears, but she bit them back. “No, you’re lying. You’re just using me to hurt him!”Blake clicked his tongue, his expression laced with fake sympathy and disdain. “Why don’t