Elena gasped, a genuine look of shock replacing her forced composure.
"I told you he lacked a certain refinement!"
"Yes, dear," her grandmother sighed, a hint of grudging amusement in her voice. "I see that now."
"Very well," the formidable voice of the matriarch finally conceded, cutting through the strained air with an unexpected note of finality.
"You have my blessing."
Elena blinked, utterly nonplussed.
"That's it? Just... that easily?"
The grandmother smiled—a rare, genuine curve of the lips.
"I like this man, Elena. His audacity, his bracing honesty—it is quite refreshing."
She fixed her gaze on the couple once more, her expression sharpening.
"By the way, when is the ceremony? You cannot possibly be married without a proper wedding. You know this."
"Yes, Grandmother," Elena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"And I was planning to keep it small. Just you and Sophia."
**Smack.**
The grandmother's hand hit the polished table.
"A small wedding? For my only granddaughter? Absolutely not! I refuse! I shall invite every one of those wretched society harpies who used to torment you. I shall show them what a real wedding looks like!"
Elena slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning inwardly.
Luca, perched on the edge of the divan, let out a bark of astonished laughter at the fiery theatricality of the woman.
"Then, Grandmother," Luca intervened, rising smoothly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Invite whomever you please. I will send my assistant; he will settle all the accounts. Spare no expense."
He walked over and, with a graceful bow, took her hand and lightly kissed her knuckles.
A softened, approving expression settled on the old woman's face.
"Well," she mused, a grudging respect entering her tone,
"it seems you possess some measure of good manners after all."
Then she glanced at the grandfather clock ticking imperiously in the corner.
"It is late. You must both leave now."
Luca and Elena moved toward the front door, relief washing over them.
Just as they were about to exit, the grandmother's silver-tipped walking stick shot out like a barrier.
"And where, pray tell, do you think you are going, Elena?"
"Grandmother, I'm returning with him."
"No, no, no." She shook her head firmly, her eyes fixed on Luca.
"You shall remain here until the wedding. And that will be in two days. You, young man, will return then to collect your bride."
Luca was momentarily speechless, caught completely off guard by the lightning decree.
"Um, well, yes, of course. Two days. Good night, then."
He gave a stiff little bow and a final, bewildered glance at Elena before he was ushered out.
Outside, the cool night air hit him like a shock.
Enzo leaned against the sleek black sedan, a question in his eyes.
"You're alone?"
Luca ran a hand through his hair.
"I have been forbidden to see my wife until the wedding. Can you believe it? Two days."
---
Inside the house, the grandmother's gaze softened as she looked at Elena.
"Sophia was terribly worried, you know. She's been sleeping in your room. Go check on her. Finally, I can sleep in peace."
She offered a rare, warm smile.
"Good night, my dear."
Elena made her way upstairs.
Her old room felt strangely empty for a moment—an echo of the past—until the door clicked shut behind her.
Sophia stood by the window, arms crossed, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Remarkable," she said, her voice a low, amused purr.
"Usually, you bring home groceries. Now you've brought home a groom. Wow."
Elena laughed, a genuine, relieved sound, and moved to embrace her friend—
but Elena flinched.
"Ouch! Gently, I'm injured."
Sophia froze.
"Injured? What happened?"
Elena's expression sobered.
"It's a long story, but I'll tell you everything," Elena promised.
Over the next few minutes, she recounted the frantic events of the past week:
the daring infiltration, the near-fatal wound, the forced marriage as a cover, and her grandmother's sudden, surreal blessing.
Sophia's brow furrowed as she absorbed the tale.
"So... I'm the reason you're married?"
"Yes, you, and your idiotic dare," Elena confirmed—though a thoughtful light was in her eyes.
"But it worked out for the best. I've been attracting too much attention this lately. I'm single, without a certain reputation, and frankly, I had nothing to lose. But with a husband like Luca Vitali? No one will dare come near me. Let's just say I found an opportunity and seized it."
She shrugged.
"All men are the same, anyway. I simply chose the best available. Now, hand me the scalpel and the forceps."
"Why?" Sophia asked, already reaching for her medical bag.
---
Under the bright, focused lamp, Elena located a tiny puncture wound at the base of her neck.
With a steady hand, she made a shallow incision—and extracted a **microscopic chip**.
It was a piece of chilling, routine spy-craft.
Sophia stared, mesmerized, as Elena stitched the wound shut, covering it flawlessly with artificial skin.
"What... what was that you just took out of your body?" Sophia whispered.
"A tracking chip," Elena replied coolly.
"Good. You should leave it here," Sophia said, her tone turning serious.
"Frederic requested your presence."
"Frederic? Why?"
"His sister has been murdered, and he wants you to handle the forensic autopsy."
She paused, her gaze steady.
"It would probably be best if your 'husband' didn't know about this."
Elena froze.
"What?" she gasped, the instruments slipping in her hand.
"Cecilia was murdered?"
"We don't know yet if it was suicide or a calculated murder," Sophia explained quickly.
"That's why he requested your immediate presence."
The shock lasted only a moment.
Elena was a woman of lethal efficiency.
The instruments were tossed aside.
The velvet dressing gown was replaced by black trousers, a fitted tunic, and finally, her heavy medical coat—a uniform that announced her identity as clearly as a badge.
"Then let's move," she said, her voice stripped of all softness.
Before leaving, her gaze flickered to the vanity.
There, glinting innocently under the lamp, lay the tracking chip—the silent witness to her hasty surgery.
She left it there and swept out, Sophia close behind.
The two women hurried down the stairs and into the waiting car, the engine already idling quietly at the curb.
A block away, beneath the shadow of a plane tree, a sleek black Mercedes remained stationary.
The window lowered with a faint hum.
Luca took a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the gloom.
He watched Elena's house, a sardonic smile curving his lips as the small car pulled away.
"She removed the chip," he said flatly, exhaling smoke into the cool night.
The tracker's signal on his palm had just flatlined.
Enzo raised an eyebrow.
"So, what's the play now?"
Luca crushed the cigarette beneath his heel and slid into the back seat, his demeanor shifting from amused fiancé to hunter.
"We follow them, of course," he said, voice edged with dry amusement.
"Let's see where my impulsive little wife is heading in the middle of the night—dressed in a doctor's coat."