The Valeri residence was never loud.
Power did not need noise.
The house stood behind iron gates and quiet guards, out of sight from the public. Inside, decisions that shaped cities happened over polished tables and steady voices. Photos of former ministers and party leaders lined the walls, all men with calm smiles and patient eyes.
Sofia Valeri lounged on the velvet armchair across from her father, legs crossed, phone balanced loosely in her hand. She barely looked up as he spoke.
"You will meet the Moretti family this week," Senator Valeri said, his voice even. "A formal engagement will follow, and you'd get married in two weeks".
Sofia laughed softly, unimpressed. "You say that like you're assigning me a dinner reservation."
Her father folded his hands on the desk. "This is not optional."
Now she looked up.
"The Morettis?" she repeated. "The banking family?"
"And more," he replied. "Their reach extends beyond finance."
Sofia smirked. "So, criminals with good accountants."
Her father's eyes hardened, though his tone remained calm. "Careful. Those 'accountants' keep governments afloat. Including ours."
She leaned back, unbothered. "You always told me I'd marry power. I just assumed it would be someone cleaner."
"There is no such thing," he said. "Only useful."
Sofia studied her reflection in the glass cabinet nearby, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist. "And what do I get in return for sacrificing myself to a man I've never met?"
"A future," her father replied. "Security. Influence. A name that opens doors even my own cannot."
She tilted her head. "So he needs us."
"And we need them more," he corrected.
The marriage would connect money to law, and secrets to respectability. The Moretti banks needed help from politicians, silent favors, closed investigations, and rules that could be changed a little. In return, the Valeri name would gain access to funds that did not disappear after the elections ended.
Power feeding power.
Sofia smiled then, slow and sharp. "Fine. I'll marry him."
Her father nodded once, as if the matter were settled.
The door opened softly.
"I'm sorry I'm late."
The voice was calm. Polite.
Both of them turned.
Valentina stood just inside the doorway, still wearing her coat, her dark hair pulled back loosely. She looked nothing like Sofia. She wore no jewelry and had no deliberate elegance, only a calmness that made her seem smaller than she was.
Her father barely reacted. "You're interrupting."
"I know," Valentina said gently. "I was held up by Giulia; she wanted me to pick her wedding dress as her chief bridesmaid."
Sofia rolled her eyes. "Of course you were."
Valentina walked farther in and set her bag down carefully. She glanced at her sister, then at her father. She hadn't meant to listen, but some things were impossible to ignore.
"Did I hear correctly," Valentina asked, "that Sofia is being married into the Moretti family?"
Sofia laughed. "Congratulations, you have ears."
Valentina didn't respond to the insult. Instead, she frowned slightly, thoughtful. "Isn't that… dangerous?"
The room shifted.
Her father's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"
"The Morettis are powerful," Valentina said carefully. "But they're not known for being kind. Siding with them makes us a target. Lorenzo Moretti's fiancée was buried today. And in two weeks, he wants to marry my sister."
Before he could answer, a sharp voice cut in.
"That is enough."
Sofia's mother rose from her seat near the window. She had been silent until now, watching Valentina with thinly veiled irritation. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached.
"This conversation does not concern you," she said coldly. "You have a habit of speaking where you don't belong."
Valentina lowered her head slightly. "I was only asking...."
"You were doing more than that," her stepmother snapped. "You forget yourself far too often."
The silence that followed was heavier than shouting.
Senator Valeri did not intervene.
Sofia watched the exchange with mild amusement. "Relax, Mama. She's just being… helpful."
Her stepmother's eyes never left Valentina. "Help is only valuable when it's requested."
Valentina nodded once. "Understood."
She turned to leave, but her father spoke.
"Valentina."
She paused.
"The Moretti alliance is necessary," he said. "And Sofia is perfectly suited for it. Also, enough of being maid of honor. let me know when you find someone."
Valentina met his gaze, searching for something. Maybe she wanted assurance. She found none.
"I hope so," she said quietly.
As she left the room, Sofia scoffed. "She always acts like she knows things."
Her father said nothing.
Outside the study, Valentina walked more slowly, her face unreadable. She had learned long ago that staying safe in this house meant not being noticed. It meant being quiet and watching instead of talking.
Yet one thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome.
Power like the Morettis' never married without reason.
And men like Lorenzo Moretti did not pick women, they made deals.
Unseen, unheard, Valentina disappeared down the corridor.
For now.
******************************************************************************
The lights in Lorenzo's meditation were dim when Roberto entered.
He was no longer wearing his funeral suit, but the mask he wore for others remained.
Lorenzo stood by the window, hands behind his back, watching the city stretch below. He did not turn.
"Report," he said.
Roberto placed a slim folder on the desk.
"The Valeri family," he began. "They're an old political family with quiet influence. Senator Valeri controls groups that deal with money and choose judges."
Lorenzo listened without comment.
"The daughter they chose is Sofia Valeri," Roberto went on. "She's a public figure, known among the wealthy and powerful. No scandals. She was raised to have influence."
"On paper," Lorenzo said.
"Yes," Roberto said. "The alliance helps both sides. We get political cover, and they get financial support."
Lorenzo exhaled slowly.
"Do they know about Isabella?" he asked.
"They know she's buried," Roberto said carefully. "Nothing more."
A long silence passed between them.
"They replace people quickly," Lorenzo said at last.
"That is how power survives," Roberto replied.
Lorenzo turned from the window, his face unreadable.
"Prepare the meeting," he said. "We proceed."
Roberto nodded and left.
Alone again, Lorenzo stared at the city lights.
Another engagement. Another deal.
Beneath all the planning, grief still lingered, quiet and unresolved.
And elsewhere, out of sight, things were already starting to change.