By 1 PM, the news broke.
"Gina Frazer, General Secretary of SpitFire Technologies, confirmed dead after a tragic explosion at a local hospital. Authorities suspect foul play."Her name was everywhere. On TV. In tabloids. On social media. A photo of her—cold, lifeless—flashed across every screen. People mourned. Investors panicked. And behind the headlines, enemies celebrated.It was the second tragedy in less than a week.Just days ago, Grace Kale—wife of Edwards Kale and Co-Ceo of Kale Industries had been found dead in her prison cell after being arrested for stabbing Gina Frazer.Some called it karma. Others called it cover-up. But now, both women were gone, and the war between SpitFire Technologies and Kale Industries was about to get bloodier.Luca didn’t attend the press conferences. He didn’t make a statement. He didn’t show up in public to demand justice.He did nothing.Not a single tear.Not aBy dawn, Hay Port City was in chaos.The museum explosion was just the beginning. The entire Corinder Art Museum had gone up in flames, reducing priceless paintings and sculptures to smoldering ash. First responders arrived to a scene of utter devastation—blackened ruins, bodies charred beyond recognition, smoke still curling into the night sky like the last breath of the fallen.The tabloids wasted no time."Terror Strikes Hay Port: Corinder Museum Explosion Leaves Dozens Dead!""Who Wanted the Elite of Hay Port Dead? Massacre at Exclusive Art Event!""The Mayor, The Minister, The Actresses—Who’s Behind the Slaughter of the City's Most Powerful?"The headlines screamed conspiracy. Politicians whispered behind closed doors, the wealthy holed up in their mansions with doubled security, and the police scrambled for suspects. But no one had answers. No threats had been made. No terrorist groups had clai
Maria barely had the strength to push open the front door. Every inch of her body ached from the endless meetings, the relentless pressure of keeping the company afloat, and the sheer weight of existing without Luca's presence. She had tried—God, she had tried—to be strong, to hold up the empire while her husband drowned in grief. But every night, when she stepped through these doors, it became clearer that she was breaking, piece by piece.Tonight, however, something was different.The estate was darker than usual. There were no staff moving about, no distant hum of quiet conversation. The air felt thick, suffocating, almost unnatural in its silence.Then she saw him.Luca sat at the dining table, still as a statue, his back to her, staring blankly out the window into the cold abyss of the night. His usually immaculate appearance was a wreck—his shirt was wrinkled, half-unbuttoned, and his dark hair was a mess as if
Luca stood before the mirror, running a hand over his jaw. The scruff that had once covered his face was now neatly shaved, exposing sharp cheekbones and a jawline carved from discipline. His suit, tailored to perfection, was one of the latest collections from Avancii, a testament to the empire he had built.He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, buttoning it with precision before grabbing his watch from the nightstand.Maria stirred in bed, her hand resting on the space where he had been moments ago. Her brows furrowed slightly in her sleep, as if she could sense his absence even in unconsciousness. Luca exhaled, stepping closer. He brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second.“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.Then, with one final look at his sleeping wife, he straightened and walked out.The morning air was crisp as Luca stepped out of the sleek black car, his freshly shaven face and sharply tailored Avancii suit making a statement before he even spoke a word
The day stretched long and uneventful for Maria.She had woken up to an empty bed, Luca already gone, his scent lingering on the sheets beside her. When she attempted to get up, determined to shake off the heaviness in her limbs, she was met with an insistent force of housekeepers, cooks, and even the gardeners—each of them reminding her of Luca’s strict orders.As she reached for her phone, hoping to distract herself, the screen lit up with a notification from an unknown number.Maria sat on the edge of their bed, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the video file sent by the unknown number. The message beneath it made her stomach twist into knots."Do you really think you’re safe with a man like him?"Her throat felt dry. Slowly, she clicked on the file. The screen flickered to life, revealing a dimly lit warehouse, its concrete walls stained with something she didn’t want to identify. The camera was shaky, as if whoever was holding it was nervous.Then she saw him.Luca stoo
Luca had just returned to the bedroom, his bare feet making no sound against the polished floors. He had done a final sweep of the estate, ensuring everything was in place, every guard stationed, every camera functional. Nothing and no one could get past his security.Maria was waiting for him, curled in their bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating her in a way that made his chest tighten. She watched him enter, her gaze trailing over his body as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.Her breath hitched.The intricate tattoos on his arms, chest, and back stretched over his sculpted muscles like stories etched in ink and flesh. She had traced them many times before, memorizing the sharp edges, the elegant script of her name on his collarbone, the lion, the serpent, the marks of power and blood.Without a word, she reached for him.Luca let her pull him onto the bed, his hands already seeking her warmth. Maria straddled his lap, her fingers ghosting over hi
The morning was bright—deceptively bright, as if the events of last night had never happened. The sun hung high, casting golden light over the estate, birds chirped in the distance, and the scent of fresh dew clung to the air.But the only evidence of the blood spilled in the dark hours before lay in the red stains the housekeepers were scrubbing off the stone pathways."Twenty-one men," one of the younger maids whispered, glancing over her shoulder as she wrung out her cloth, the water in her bucket turning pink. "That’s what Mr Collins said."Another housekeeper, older and more experienced, clicked her tongue. "And not one of them managed to step past the second courtyard.""They said snipers took them out before they even reached the main house.""Who were they?""Idiots, clearly."A gardener, kneeling beside a row of blood-speckled roses, muttered, "Only fools come for Luca Avancii in his own home and expect to leave alive."The staff exchanged uneasy glances as they worked. Some
Maria had just stepped out of the shower when her phone vibrated on the vanity counter. Wrapped in a short robe, she picked it up, her fingers already expecting a message from Luca or one of the estate staff.But when she saw the sender—an unknown number—her stomach twisted.Unknown: We need to talk. It’s about Luca. It’s important.Her pulse quickened. The text was vague, but the weight of it was enough to send a chill down her spine. Who the hell—?Her instincts told her to ignore it. Could be a trap. Could be nothing.But something gnawed at her, an uneasy curiosity that she couldn’t shake.Maria walked over to her laptop, typing the number into a tracing database. A minute later, the result flashed on the screen.Edwards Kale.Her mouth went dry.Why the hell is he texting me?She hadn’t spoken to Edwards in months, not since he tried to ruin her image at the ball. He had humiliat
The bed was cold.Maria stirred beneath the sheets, blinking against the morning light filtering through the curtains. Her hand instinctively reached across the mattress, searching for warmth, for the familiar solid presence of Luca.Nothing.Her stomach clenched.She sat up slowly, pushing back her hair as she glanced toward the en-suite bathroom. The door was open. Empty.He left.A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned to the nightstand. His watch was gone. His phone charger was missing.Luca always left something behind when he was in a rush—his cufflinks, his laptop, something. But today? It was as if he had made sure not to leave a single trace of himself in their bedroom.Maria swallowed hard.He was still angry.She had known it last night, had felt it in the way he looked at her, in the way he let her go without a second glance.But some part of her had foolishly
The bed was cold.Maria stirred beneath the sheets, blinking against the morning light filtering through the curtains. Her hand instinctively reached across the mattress, searching for warmth, for the familiar solid presence of Luca.Nothing.Her stomach clenched.She sat up slowly, pushing back her hair as she glanced toward the en-suite bathroom. The door was open. Empty.He left.A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned to the nightstand. His watch was gone. His phone charger was missing.Luca always left something behind when he was in a rush—his cufflinks, his laptop, something. But today? It was as if he had made sure not to leave a single trace of himself in their bedroom.Maria swallowed hard.He was still angry.She had known it last night, had felt it in the way he looked at her, in the way he let her go without a second glance.But some part of her had foolishly
Maria had just stepped out of the shower when her phone vibrated on the vanity counter. Wrapped in a short robe, she picked it up, her fingers already expecting a message from Luca or one of the estate staff.But when she saw the sender—an unknown number—her stomach twisted.Unknown: We need to talk. It’s about Luca. It’s important.Her pulse quickened. The text was vague, but the weight of it was enough to send a chill down her spine. Who the hell—?Her instincts told her to ignore it. Could be a trap. Could be nothing.But something gnawed at her, an uneasy curiosity that she couldn’t shake.Maria walked over to her laptop, typing the number into a tracing database. A minute later, the result flashed on the screen.Edwards Kale.Her mouth went dry.Why the hell is he texting me?She hadn’t spoken to Edwards in months, not since he tried to ruin her image at the ball. He had humiliat
The morning was bright—deceptively bright, as if the events of last night had never happened. The sun hung high, casting golden light over the estate, birds chirped in the distance, and the scent of fresh dew clung to the air.But the only evidence of the blood spilled in the dark hours before lay in the red stains the housekeepers were scrubbing off the stone pathways."Twenty-one men," one of the younger maids whispered, glancing over her shoulder as she wrung out her cloth, the water in her bucket turning pink. "That’s what Mr Collins said."Another housekeeper, older and more experienced, clicked her tongue. "And not one of them managed to step past the second courtyard.""They said snipers took them out before they even reached the main house.""Who were they?""Idiots, clearly."A gardener, kneeling beside a row of blood-speckled roses, muttered, "Only fools come for Luca Avancii in his own home and expect to leave alive."The staff exchanged uneasy glances as they worked. Some
Luca had just returned to the bedroom, his bare feet making no sound against the polished floors. He had done a final sweep of the estate, ensuring everything was in place, every guard stationed, every camera functional. Nothing and no one could get past his security.Maria was waiting for him, curled in their bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating her in a way that made his chest tighten. She watched him enter, her gaze trailing over his body as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.Her breath hitched.The intricate tattoos on his arms, chest, and back stretched over his sculpted muscles like stories etched in ink and flesh. She had traced them many times before, memorizing the sharp edges, the elegant script of her name on his collarbone, the lion, the serpent, the marks of power and blood.Without a word, she reached for him.Luca let her pull him onto the bed, his hands already seeking her warmth. Maria straddled his lap, her fingers ghosting over hi
The day stretched long and uneventful for Maria.She had woken up to an empty bed, Luca already gone, his scent lingering on the sheets beside her. When she attempted to get up, determined to shake off the heaviness in her limbs, she was met with an insistent force of housekeepers, cooks, and even the gardeners—each of them reminding her of Luca’s strict orders.As she reached for her phone, hoping to distract herself, the screen lit up with a notification from an unknown number.Maria sat on the edge of their bed, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the video file sent by the unknown number. The message beneath it made her stomach twist into knots."Do you really think you’re safe with a man like him?"Her throat felt dry. Slowly, she clicked on the file. The screen flickered to life, revealing a dimly lit warehouse, its concrete walls stained with something she didn’t want to identify. The camera was shaky, as if whoever was holding it was nervous.Then she saw him.Luca stoo
Luca stood before the mirror, running a hand over his jaw. The scruff that had once covered his face was now neatly shaved, exposing sharp cheekbones and a jawline carved from discipline. His suit, tailored to perfection, was one of the latest collections from Avancii, a testament to the empire he had built.He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, buttoning it with precision before grabbing his watch from the nightstand.Maria stirred in bed, her hand resting on the space where he had been moments ago. Her brows furrowed slightly in her sleep, as if she could sense his absence even in unconsciousness. Luca exhaled, stepping closer. He brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second.“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured.Then, with one final look at his sleeping wife, he straightened and walked out.The morning air was crisp as Luca stepped out of the sleek black car, his freshly shaven face and sharply tailored Avancii suit making a statement before he even spoke a word
Maria barely had the strength to push open the front door. Every inch of her body ached from the endless meetings, the relentless pressure of keeping the company afloat, and the sheer weight of existing without Luca's presence. She had tried—God, she had tried—to be strong, to hold up the empire while her husband drowned in grief. But every night, when she stepped through these doors, it became clearer that she was breaking, piece by piece.Tonight, however, something was different.The estate was darker than usual. There were no staff moving about, no distant hum of quiet conversation. The air felt thick, suffocating, almost unnatural in its silence.Then she saw him.Luca sat at the dining table, still as a statue, his back to her, staring blankly out the window into the cold abyss of the night. His usually immaculate appearance was a wreck—his shirt was wrinkled, half-unbuttoned, and his dark hair was a mess as if
By dawn, Hay Port City was in chaos.The museum explosion was just the beginning. The entire Corinder Art Museum had gone up in flames, reducing priceless paintings and sculptures to smoldering ash. First responders arrived to a scene of utter devastation—blackened ruins, bodies charred beyond recognition, smoke still curling into the night sky like the last breath of the fallen.The tabloids wasted no time."Terror Strikes Hay Port: Corinder Museum Explosion Leaves Dozens Dead!""Who Wanted the Elite of Hay Port Dead? Massacre at Exclusive Art Event!""The Mayor, The Minister, The Actresses—Who’s Behind the Slaughter of the City's Most Powerful?"The headlines screamed conspiracy. Politicians whispered behind closed doors, the wealthy holed up in their mansions with doubled security, and the police scrambled for suspects. But no one had answers. No threats had been made. No terrorist groups had clai
By 1 PM, the news broke."Gina Frazer, General Secretary of SpitFire Technologies, confirmed dead after a tragic explosion at a local hospital. Authorities suspect foul play."Her name was everywhere. On TV. In tabloids. On social media. A photo of her—cold, lifeless—flashed across every screen. People mourned. Investors panicked. And behind the headlines, enemies celebrated.It was the second tragedy in less than a week.Just days ago, Grace Kale—wife of Edwards Kale and Co-Ceo of Kale Industries had been found dead in her prison cell after being arrested for stabbing Gina Frazer. Some called it karma. Others called it cover-up. But now, both women were gone, and the war between SpitFire Technologies and Kale Industries was about to get bloodier.Luca didn’t attend the press conferences. He didn’t make a statement. He didn’t show up in public to demand justice.He did nothing.Not a single tear.Not a