The storm that night was loud enough to drown out thought.
Thunder rolled across the city like an angry god, rattling the windows of Rossi Mansion.
Amira stood in front of the fireplace, watching flames claw their way through wood — wild, hungry, untamed. It reminded her of Leonardo.
He'd been gone all day — meetings, calls, silence. After last night's revelation about Elise's journal, he'd withdrawn completely. She'd tried calling twice. No answer.
Now, the house felt wrong. Too quiet again.
She turned when she heard the door open. Leonardo stepped in, rain dripping from his coat. He looked exhausted, his usual calm buried under something sharper.
"You're soaked," she said softly.
He didn't answer. Just shrugged off his coat and tossed a folder onto the table. The papers spilled out — photographs, copies of letters, police reports.
Amira's heart clenched. "What is this?"
"Everything they never told me," he said, voice low. "Everything about Elise's death."
She hesitated, then knelt beside the papers. One photo caught her eye — a car twisted on a highway guardrail, flames devouring metal. Another showed Elise's hand… and a bracelet Amira had seen before.
It was the same one Leonardo kept locked in his drawer.
"She wasn't alone that night," he said. "Look closely."
Amira leaned closer. There — in the reflection of a broken headlight — a blurred silhouette of another person.
"Daniel Hale," she whispered.
Leonardo nodded. "The man who blackmailed her."
"Then she didn't just die," Amira said. "She was silenced."
He met her gaze. "And now someone wants to silence us."
A beat of silence. Only the fire crackled between them.
Then Amira asked the question that had haunted her since last night. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Because I wasn't sure who to trust." His voice cracked on the last word — rare for him. "And because when I look at you, Amira, I see everything I could lose again."
Her heart twisted painfully. "Leonardo—"
He reached out suddenly, pulling her closer. Not roughly, not possessively — desperately. As if he needed to feel her heartbeat just to believe something in his world was still real.
"I can't lose you too," he said against her hair.
She froze for a second — then melted into him, her arms circling his waist. "Then stop pushing me away."
The silence between them wasn't empty anymore. It pulsed — full of everything they hadn't said, everything they were afraid to feel.
Then the sound shattered it — a sharp crack of glass.
Leonardo turned instantly, instinctively pulling Amira behind him. The window was broken — just enough to let in a gust of cold wind.
He crossed the room, crouching near the floor. His hand came up holding something metallic — a bullet casing.
Amira gasped. "Someone shot at us?"
"Not at us," he said grimly, pointing to the table. "At the photographs."
She looked — one bullet hole straight through Elise's picture.
A warning.
Her phone buzzed then. A message. Unknown number.
You should've stopped asking questions, Mrs. Rossi.
Her stomach dropped. "Leonardo…"
He grabbed the phone, read it, and cursed under his breath. "They know you're involved now."
"What do we do?"
His voice hardened — the CEO was back. "We fight back."
He went to the drawer, pulling out a small black box. Inside was a flash drive. "Everything Elise found before she died — I've been piecing it together. And now, you're the only one I trust to finish it if anything happens to me."
"Don't say that," she whispered.
He stepped closer, pressing the flash drive into her palm. His fingers lingered, warm and steady. "Promise me."
"I promise."
The power flickered suddenly. Lights dimmed, then went out.
The storm outside roared louder.
Leonardo turned toward the hallway. "Stay here."
But Amira caught his wrist. "No. Not this time."
For a moment, their eyes locked — firelight and fear and something deeper burning between them. Then he nodded once.
They moved together through the dark hall, flashlights cutting narrow paths through the shadows.
Somewhere above them, a door creaked open.
Leonardo lifted his gun — Amira didn't even know he owned one.
"Leonardo—"
Before she could finish, a figure stepped into the light — soaked, hooded, a glint of metal in their hand.
Leonardo fired once. The figure ducked and fled.
"Stay behind me!"
They chased the intruder down the corridor, thunder echoing through every step. When they reached the back door, it was swinging open — wind and rain pouring in.
The figure was gone.
Leonardo lowered the gun slowly. His hands trembled — not from fear, but fury. "They were inside the house, Amira."
"Then we're not safe here."
He turned to her, the lightning flashing across his face — sharp angles, wet hair, raw emotion. "You're right."
He grabbed her hand. "Pack a bag. We're leaving tonight."
Two hours later, the storm had calmed. The mansion stood in eerie silence, lights still out.
Amira was upstairs, zipping the last of her things, when she noticed something wedged under the door.
A photograph.
She picked it up — her breath caught. It was of her this time. Standing by Leonardo's office window earlier that day.
On the back, written in neat cursive:
One bride, two funerals. Choose carefully.
Her hands shook as she ran downstairs. "Leonardo!"
He turned — but before she could speak, the front door burst open. A gust of cold air swept in, carrying the smell of smoke.
"Fire!" one of the guards shouted. "The garage is burning!"
Leonardo rushed toward it — but Amira grabbed his arm. "It's a distraction! They want you outside!"
He froze — then realization hit. "You're right."
"Then what—"
He cut her off with a kiss. Sudden, fierce, real. "If anything happens," he murmured, "remember what I said. You run. Don't look back."
Before she could answer, he was gone — into the smoke, into the night.
And Amira, clutching the photograph with trembling hands, realized that love wasn't the safest place to hide.
It was the most dangerous battlefield of all.