RiccardoThe room was so quiet it felt heavy, but I had come to love this stillness ever since Ava came back home and into my life. The gentle sound of her breathing and the steady beat of her heart were the only things that kept me anchored. She was here, alive, and that was what truly mattered. I stayed close to her, even though I was completely worn out. She had faced so much, and the least I could do was ensure she felt safe. Ava was still fragile, on the mend from everything she had endured. I was there to make her comfortable, whether it was fetching her a drink, wrapping her in a blanket, or just holding her hand. Steph and Bento were always around, checking in on her, hovering protectively as if they could sense the lingering tension. Slowly, Ava's eyes opened, adjusting to the soft light streaming in. She looked drained, but the pain in her eyes was beginning to lessen. Still, I knew she needed time to heal, not just physically but emotionally too. “Hey,” I said softly, tuc
AvaIt felt like everything in that moment—the struggles we had faced and the bond that had only grown stronger because of it. We weathered the storm together, and nothing could come between us. "Ava?" A gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts. It was Steph, standing by my bed, her eyes filled with concern and maybe a hint of regret or guilt? She hadn’t been there during the factory incident, but she was still part of the chaos that led to this. Yet, having her here was comforting. "How are you feeling?" The pain was there, dull but ever-present. My body felt like it had been through a tough battle, every muscle aching, reminding me of what I had endured. But it wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the nightmares, the dark memories of the men who took me, my father’s cold gaze, and the haunting recollections of the fight. Escaping them was tough. Every time I shut my eyes, they flooded back, as if I were still trapped. I managed a weak smile, trying to hide the exhaustion and lingeri
AvaIt's been a few weeks since I got out of that bed, and now every morning feels like a little win. I'm moving a bit quicker, standing a bit taller, and somehow, despite everything that’s happened, I’m starting to feel like myself again. Not the shattered version I was a few weeks back, but someone who can reclaim some control. Right now, I'm perched on the edge of Riccard's bed, slipping on the slippers he insisted on getting for me. He's at the desk across the room, busy with work. He’s always working, but he’s also always there for me. Watching, guiding, helping. It can feel a bit overwhelming at times, but I can’t deny that I need it. "You good?" His voice is soft, but it’s always filled with concern, always picking up on the little changes in me—like today, when he noticed me walking across the room without flinching. "I’m good," I reply, standing up and heading toward him, trying to act casual, even though my body is still protesting. Riccardo gives me that unreadable look o
AvaI'm sitting in the living room, still feeling a bit weak, but definitely stronger than before. I've recovered, yet I'm not the same person I used to be. None of us are. When the door opens, I see my mom first—her face shows concern, and she walks slowly and carefully. She's holding it together, but I can tell she's struggling inside. "My baby girl," she whispers, her voice trembling as she approaches me. She doesn't need to say more. Her arms wrap around me in a warm hug, and I lean into her, soaking in the comfort of her presence. It's been ages since I've let her hold me like this, but right now, it's the only thing keeping me from breaking down. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea. I couldn't keep you safe." "You didn't know," I reply gently, pulling back to meet her gaze. "It wasn't your fault, Mama. No one is to blame but him. He was always a threat. And I—I had to look out for myself. We all did what we had to do." Richard wa
RiccardoThe next day unfolded slowly, a calm before a storm. I could tell by Ava's behavior; she was deliberately trying to provoke me with a look, a word, or most annoyingly, her body when I least expected it. Her clinginess had intensified after her recovery, and while I was glad for her, I felt completely powerless to change anything. As I helped her with breakfast, her fingers danced on my arm, lingering longer than necessary. She met my eyes with an intense gaze, a captivating allure that was all-consuming."Riccardo," she whispered, her voice playful, leaning in so her lips brushed against my ear. "You're holding back," she murmured, sending my heart racing. She was so near, dangerously so, and I knew I had to resist. Not yet. Later, as we sat on the couch with her legs draped over mine, her body pressed against me, I struggled to breathe. Her eyes were locked onto mine, and I saw that challenge, that daring spark again."You're not even looking at me," she said, her voice low
Ava Tonight is a big deal for my dad. I’ve already been warned to behave myself after I ordered a yellow dress for the occasion, but when he saw it, he completely lost it. “You can’t do anything right, can you? You know Maddy hates yellow, and yet you went and ordered one!” He snatched the dress and tossed it to the floor. Then he told the maids to get rid of it. “Why can’t you think about others? You did this just to annoy me!” He shoved me down and walked away. I wanted to say I actually liked yellow, but I knew better than to argue. I glanced at the clock and realized I had only ten minutes before I had to meet my parents downstairs. If I was even a minute late, my dad would make me pay for it. I remembered that night two years ago, right after my sister passed away. I was ten seconds late, and my dad made me eat outside, forcing me to eat my food off the ground like a dog. I shook my head to push that memory away. Then I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. The w
Ava The ballroom glows with a warm golden light, crystal chandeliers casting dazzling reflections on the sleek marble floor. Mafia families mingle with forced politeness, their smiles as empty as the greetings they exchange. Guards lurk in the shadows, always alert—a constant reminder of the tension that hangs in the air like a heavy perfume. I step into the gala with my family, the fabric of my black gown trailing behind me. The dress hugs my figure just right, and I can feel the weight of countless eyes on me. I’ve gotten used to it—being scrutinized, evaluated, judged. My dad always said that’s just part of our legacy. Still, I hold my head high and keep my face neutral, hiding the unease bubbling just below the surface. “Don’t you dare embarrass me. You know what will happen. I wish your sister was here. She knew how to play the game and win people over.” It stings, but I’ve learned to take my father’s harsh words in stride. As I scan the room, I nod politely at a few familiar
Riccardo The tie around my neck sat just right against the crisp white collar of my shirt, but I fiddled with it anyway. Everything had to be perfect tonight. No slip-ups. No distractions. I knew what I had to do. I looked up and met my own gaze in the mirror. Sharp suit, polished shoes, not a hair out of place. In our world, presentation was key. If you looked powerful, people would believe you were. The only person missing was her. She was the one that always made sure I looked perfect for these events. "Are you going to take forever, or are you actually planning to leave this room?" Bento’s voice cut through the quiet. I glanced over at my brother. He was lounging against the doorframe, his suit jacket draped casually over his shoulder, his tie already loosened. He was the complete opposite of me in every way. I straightened up and said, “I’m ready,” while fiddling with my cufflinks. Bento raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t look ready. You look like you’re about to
RiccardoThe next day unfolded slowly, a calm before a storm. I could tell by Ava's behavior; she was deliberately trying to provoke me with a look, a word, or most annoyingly, her body when I least expected it. Her clinginess had intensified after her recovery, and while I was glad for her, I felt completely powerless to change anything. As I helped her with breakfast, her fingers danced on my arm, lingering longer than necessary. She met my eyes with an intense gaze, a captivating allure that was all-consuming."Riccardo," she whispered, her voice playful, leaning in so her lips brushed against my ear. "You're holding back," she murmured, sending my heart racing. She was so near, dangerously so, and I knew I had to resist. Not yet. Later, as we sat on the couch with her legs draped over mine, her body pressed against me, I struggled to breathe. Her eyes were locked onto mine, and I saw that challenge, that daring spark again."You're not even looking at me," she said, her voice low
AvaI'm sitting in the living room, still feeling a bit weak, but definitely stronger than before. I've recovered, yet I'm not the same person I used to be. None of us are. When the door opens, I see my mom first—her face shows concern, and she walks slowly and carefully. She's holding it together, but I can tell she's struggling inside. "My baby girl," she whispers, her voice trembling as she approaches me. She doesn't need to say more. Her arms wrap around me in a warm hug, and I lean into her, soaking in the comfort of her presence. It's been ages since I've let her hold me like this, but right now, it's the only thing keeping me from breaking down. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea. I couldn't keep you safe." "You didn't know," I reply gently, pulling back to meet her gaze. "It wasn't your fault, Mama. No one is to blame but him. He was always a threat. And I—I had to look out for myself. We all did what we had to do." Richard wa
AvaIt's been a few weeks since I got out of that bed, and now every morning feels like a little win. I'm moving a bit quicker, standing a bit taller, and somehow, despite everything that’s happened, I’m starting to feel like myself again. Not the shattered version I was a few weeks back, but someone who can reclaim some control. Right now, I'm perched on the edge of Riccard's bed, slipping on the slippers he insisted on getting for me. He's at the desk across the room, busy with work. He’s always working, but he’s also always there for me. Watching, guiding, helping. It can feel a bit overwhelming at times, but I can’t deny that I need it. "You good?" His voice is soft, but it’s always filled with concern, always picking up on the little changes in me—like today, when he noticed me walking across the room without flinching. "I’m good," I reply, standing up and heading toward him, trying to act casual, even though my body is still protesting. Riccardo gives me that unreadable look o
AvaIt felt like everything in that moment—the struggles we had faced and the bond that had only grown stronger because of it. We weathered the storm together, and nothing could come between us. "Ava?" A gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts. It was Steph, standing by my bed, her eyes filled with concern and maybe a hint of regret or guilt? She hadn’t been there during the factory incident, but she was still part of the chaos that led to this. Yet, having her here was comforting. "How are you feeling?" The pain was there, dull but ever-present. My body felt like it had been through a tough battle, every muscle aching, reminding me of what I had endured. But it wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the nightmares, the dark memories of the men who took me, my father’s cold gaze, and the haunting recollections of the fight. Escaping them was tough. Every time I shut my eyes, they flooded back, as if I were still trapped. I managed a weak smile, trying to hide the exhaustion and lingeri
RiccardoThe room was so quiet it felt heavy, but I had come to love this stillness ever since Ava came back home and into my life. The gentle sound of her breathing and the steady beat of her heart were the only things that kept me anchored. She was here, alive, and that was what truly mattered. I stayed close to her, even though I was completely worn out. She had faced so much, and the least I could do was ensure she felt safe. Ava was still fragile, on the mend from everything she had endured. I was there to make her comfortable, whether it was fetching her a drink, wrapping her in a blanket, or just holding her hand. Steph and Bento were always around, checking in on her, hovering protectively as if they could sense the lingering tension. Slowly, Ava's eyes opened, adjusting to the soft light streaming in. She looked drained, but the pain in her eyes was beginning to lessen. Still, I knew she needed time to heal, not just physically but emotionally too. “Hey,” I said softly, tuc
AvaI felt like I was sinking, not in water but under the heavy silence, the beeping machines, and the dull pain in my body. My eyelids felt so heavy, as if they were resisting opening, and even the slightest movement shot sharp pain through me. I blinked slowly, trying to focus on my surroundings. Bright white walls enclosed me, and the strong smell of antiseptic filled the air. Machines quietly hummed beside my bed, with tubes and wires connected to my arms and chest. The cold hospital sheets pressed against me, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor was a constant reminder that I was still alive—just barely. A soft murmur of voices in the background made me tense, my thoughts cloudy as I tried to figure out where I was. My fingers twitched, realizing they were attached to an IV drip, a line of saline keeping me stable. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and I struggled to breathe through the pain that gnawed at every part of me. “Riccardo…” I whispered, my voice barely a cro
RiccardoThe waiting room felt like I was in hell. I was pacing the cold, clinical floor, my thoughts racing uncontrollably. Ava was in surgery, losing blood fast. I could still hear her screams and feel the warmth of her trembling body in my arms, my hands stained with her blood. Those images haunted me—the sound of her breath catching, the quiver in her voice as she fought to stay conscious. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was meant to keep her safe. Maybe I was a failure. My team of expert doctors had rushed her into surgery the moment we arrived, and they were working hard to save her. But with every tick of the clock, time felt like it was dragging on forever. “She’s losing too much blood,” the lead doctor had told me earlier, his tone heavy with determination. “We’re getting her ready for surgery, but… Don, it’s a critical situation.” Those words didn’t register. Not Ava. I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t lose her—not like this. I tried to suppress the guilt, the ange
RiccardoBound to a chair, her face bruised and her body bloodied. Her hair was a tangled mess of dirt and sweat, hanging limply around her face. But her eyes... they still sparkled with that fire, that will to fight. A chill ran through me. She was weak—too weak—but she was alive. She was still breathing. I rushed over, my hands shaking as I cut the ropes that held her captive. Bento was right there with me, working fast, but I could feel time slipping away. "Ava," I whispered, my voice thick with relief. "You're safe now. We're getting you out of here." She didn’t reply immediately. She was breathing heavily, pain etched on her face, but I could see the strength in her eyes. Despite everything they had done to her, she wasn’t broken. She looked at me, as if trying to say something, but her words were lost in a cough. "You’re gonna be okay, Ava," Bento said gently, helping her to stand. I supported her, my hands on her waist, but I was taken aback by how little strength she ha
RiccardoIt's been three agonizing days since Ava was taken. I haven't slept or eaten, and nothing else matters but getting her back. Time feels like it's dragging on, each minute more painful than the last. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart races, but nothing compares to the moment I heard her voice. I was in the dining room, looking at the map of the city on the table with my team around me, searching for any clue. Then my phone rang with an unknown number. My heart raced, but I picked it up without thinking, desperate to act. “I have your precious wife,” the voice said. Before I could reply, I heard her voice—faint and distorted, but undeniably Ava. “No!-Riccardo!” Her fear and pain hit me hard, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Then the line went dead. That sick bastard wanted me to hear her cries. I promised her I'd come for her, no matter what. The silence after that was unbearable, and I gripped my phone so tightly that I felt it start to crack in my hand."Track that