The air was cold and heavy when Elena woke up. Her wrists were tied again, her head pounding from the slap that had woken her earlier. The room smelled like damp wood and betrayal—her father's voice was the first thing she heard.
"You forgot everything, Elena," he said coldly, pacing back and forth in front of her. "All the plans, all the years of training, everything I taught you—gone because you let yourself fall in love with the man who was supposed to be our weapon."
She lifted her head slowly, tears already burning in her eyes. "Father… please—"
"Don't call me that!" he roared, slamming his hand against the wall. "You were supposed to make him trust you. You were supposed to make him kneel to me. I was going to use him to gain control, to rule every territory in Italy. But no—you fell in love! You told him everything, everything that was meant to stay secret!"
Elena's body trembled, but she refused to lower her gaze. "I'm not your toy anymore. I'm tired. Haven't you used me enough—for your power, your greed, your pride?" she cried. "You made my mother suffer, and when she was dying, you walked away without even looking back!"
Her father's eyes burned with rage. "Watch your mouth—"
"No!" she screamed. "You think I went to Lorenzo only because of you? No, Father. I went there for my mother—to find her, to free her, to get strong enough to fight you!"
Suddenly, a sharp slap landed across her face. Her head snapped to the side, her lip bleeding instantly.
"Don't you dare call me Father again," he hissed. "You're nothing but a mistake."
Then another voice came from the shadows—a soft, poisonous tone that made Elena's blood run cold.
"Poor Elena," her stepmother said, stepping into the dim light. Her lips curved in a wicked smile. "Still fighting for a mother who was too weak to survive. You're just like her—pathetic."
Elena's heart twisted. "You…" she whispered. "You ruined everything. You made him like this."
Her stepmother laughed, a cruel, hollow sound. "Oh no, darling. He's always been like this. I just gave him a reason to be worse." She looked at her husband with pride. "She's not worth your anger, love. She failed you. She betrayed you."
Her father turned back to Elena. "Lorenzo found out the truth, didn't he? He chased you out like the trash you are. Did you really think he ever loved you?" He leaned closer, his breath heavy and bitter. "Even with the baby inside you, he doesn't care."
They both laughed—her father and her stepmother—laughing at her pain, her heartbreak, her love.
Elena's tears finally spilled freely. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "I'm your daughter… Dad. You once loved me, right?"
For a moment, silence. Then, his face hardened again. "Yes," he said coldly. "You were my daughter—but not anymore. Everything died the day I trained you to shoot. I never loved you, Elena. I only used you to gain what I wanted. And every time I see your face, I see her—that weak woman who destroyed me."
Her stepmother stepped closer, touching his arm gently. "Don't waste your time with her. She's just a broken copy of her useless mother."
Elena's hands tightened around the rope cutting into her wrists. Her eyes blazed with fury and pain. "You're right," she said, her voice trembling but strong. "I do look like my mother. But I'm nothing like you. I may be broken—but I'm not heartless."
Her father smirked. "Then let's see how long that heart lasts, my little failure."
He turned to one of his men. "Take her to the basement. Keep her alive—but make sure she regrets every word she just said."
Elena was dragged away, her feet scraping the floor, her tears falling like rain. But as they locked her up in the dark, her heart didn't break this time—it hardened.
Her father's words echoed in her mind: Lorenzo doesn't care about you… he never did.
But she knew him better than that.
She had seen love in his eyes, felt it in his touch, heard it in his voice when he begged her not to leave.
Lorenzo wasn't like them.
He would come for her—she could feel it.
So she sat in the cold darkness, clutching her stomach softly. "Hold on, little one," she whispered to her unborn baby. "Daddy's coming for us. I know he is."
And far away, under the same dark sky, Lorenzo was still driving through the night, his heart burning with one thought—
he would tear apart the world if that's what it took to bring her back.