Page 102 of Ruined By Capture

Leonardo smooths a hand over his perfectly-styled hair, messing it up at last. "I shouldn't have told her so bluntly. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"None of us were," Damiano interjects, his voice carrying the weight of authority even in this moment of uncertainty.

I look at Matteo. "Take him upstairs to my room. She's waiting."

Matteo nods, pushing off the wall. "This way."

Leonardo hesitates, glancing at the scattered papers and the laptop. "The evidence?—"

"Will still be here," Damiano says firmly. "Your sister needs you now."

Something passes between them—an understanding that transcends the circumstances of their meeting. For all their differences, both men know what it means to bear the weight of family legacy.

Leonardo stands, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for battle. Before following Matteo he pauses beside me.

"Thank you," he says quietly, "for taking care of her."

I give him a single nod, watching as Matteo leads him from the room. When they're gone Damiano turns to me, his expression unreadable.

"Raymond Stone will come for both of them now," he says, not a question but a statement of fact.

My mind is already shifting to our next move. "That's why we need to act now. Raymond won't wait long."

Damiano's eyes darken. "Raymond's already lost his partner. He can't find him and Leonardo will say that he doesn't know where he is. He'll be desperate, unpredictable."

"Good," I growl. "Let him make mistakes."

"We'll spread the evidence worldwide within the next few hours," Damiano decides, his voice taking on the cold precision that's made him feared throughout the city. "Noah's team is standing by. Major news outlets, law enforcement agencies, international organizations. Once it's out there even Raymond's connections won't save him."

I nod, already planning the security we'll need. "I want Matteo and Enzo with Melania while she works. Nobody gets within a hundred feet of her."

"And Leonardo?"

"He's a wild card," I admit, considering the man who executed his own father. "But he's her brother, and he chose her over Antonio. That counts for something."

Damiano studies me for a moment. "You trust her completely with this."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "With my life."

He holds my gaze, then nods once. "Then let's burn Raymond's world to the ground."

CHAPTER 35

Irun my finger along the cracked spine of my favorite Dickens novel before placing it on one of the custom-built shelves that line our living room wall. The late afternoon sun streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden rectangles across the herringbone hardwood floors. Two months have passed since my father's funeral—a somber, sparsely-attended affair that felt more like closing a business deal than saying goodbye.

That's the last of the books.

Our new apartment occupies the entire fifteenth floor of a pre-war building on Manhattan's Upper East Side. When Alessio first brought me here I was thrilled by the soaring ceilings and the way the space seemed to breathe with possibility. Afterspending weeks in his sleek bachelor pad—all chrome, leather and minimalist furniture—this place feels like it could actually become a home.

The kitchen gleams with white marble and brass fixtures, opening to a dining area where an antique table I found at an estate sale now sits. Alessio raised an eyebrow at my insistence on the scratched mahogany piece but relented when I explained how it reminded me of quiet moments with my mother.

I wander through the main living space, past the Italian leather couch that Alessio insisted on ("The only thing worth bringing from my place," he'd declared). The room flows into a library nook where I've arranged my technical books alongside the first editions Alessio surprised me with last week.

Our bedroom faces east, catching the morning light that Alessio claims helps him wake up for his dawn workouts. I insisted on a separate office for myself—a sanctuary where I can work on my cybersecurity consulting business without distraction.

I pause at the guest bedroom door, pushing it open to reveal pale blue walls and a daybed positioned under the window. Leonardo stays here sometimes when he's in town, though he's been spending more time in Italy, rebuilding the legitimate parts of the family business.

The empty moving boxes are stacked by the service elevator, waiting to be taken away. I flatten the last one, breathing in the scent of fresh paint and new beginnings. It still feels surreal—this life we're building together after everything that happened with Raymond, my father, and the evidence that brought down their entire operation.

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