Chapter ~ Brand on His Soul

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the vast penthouse. Dante Moretti stood at the bar, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the counter. The crystal tumbler he'd just hurled against the wall lay in jagged pieces on the floor, a mess that mirrored his thoughts.

The divorce papers sat on the table behind him, her signature scrawled neatly across the bottom. Lia Romano Moretti. Even on paper, her name felt like a brand on his soul.

She had left.

His jaw clenched as he downed the whiskey still in his hand, the burn doing little to numb the ache in his chest. He told himself this was what he wanted, that cutting her out of his life was the only way to protect his empire. But the silence of the penthouse felt suffocating without her presence.

"Sir," came a tentative voice from the doorway.

Dante turned, his glare landing on his assistant, Alessandra Ricci. She stood there in her perfectly tailored dress, her expression carefully neutral, though her sharp eyes gleamed with a hint of satisfaction.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Alessandra stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "I have the finalized reports from the Milan merger," she said, placing a folder on the table. "And I've taken the liberty of ensuring Miss Romano's departure from Moretti Enterprises is… clean."

Dante's jaw tightened at the mention of Lia's name. "Her employment is none of your concern."

"Of course, sir," Alessandra said smoothly, though her lips curved into a faint smirk. "I only meant to say that everything is handled. No loose ends."

Her words grated on him. He knew Alessandra had never liked Lia, though she had kept her disdain well-hidden during their marriage. And now, the satisfaction in her tone was unmistakable.

"Get out," he said coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Alessandra hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but the steel in Dante's gaze silenced her. She nodded and left without another word.

Dante turned back to the bar, pouring himself another drink. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn't escape the nagging feeling that he had made a mistake.

Meanwhile, at the Romano Villa

Lia woke to the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming, but the familiar voices of her brothers grounded her in reality.

She pulled on a robe and stepped out onto the landing, looking down into the grand living room below. Alessio, Lorenzo, and Marco were gathered around the fireplace, their conversation animated as they shared a bottle of wine.

"Morning, sorellina!" Lorenzo called out when he spotted her.

"It's barely morning," she replied, descending the staircase. "What are you all doing here so early?"

Marco grinned. "Alessio called a family meeting."

Lia raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to her eldest brother. "A family meeting?"

Alessio set down his glass and rose to his feet. "We need to talk, Lia. Sit."

Her stomach sank. She knew that tone all too well—stern and unyielding, the tone of a man who always got his way.

Reluctantly, she sat on the couch, folding her hands in her lap. "What is this about?"

"You can't stay holed up here forever," Alessio said bluntly. "You're a Romano, and that means you don't run from your problems."

"I'm not running," she said defensively.

"Really?" Marco interjected. "Because it looks like you're hiding."

Lia's cheeks flushed. "I'm not hiding. I just… I need time to figure things out."

Lorenzo leaned forward, his usual playful expression replaced by concern. "We're worried about you, Lia. You've been through a lot, and we get that. But shutting us out isn't the answer."

She looked down, her fingers twisting nervously. "I'm not shutting you out. I just… I don't want to drag you into this mess."

"Too late," Alessio said, his tone softening slightly. "We're already in it, sorellina. And we're not going anywhere."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them away. "I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to figure it out alone," Alessio said, reaching over to place a hand on her shoulder. "That's what family is for."

The weight of their support settled over her like a warm blanket, and for the first time in days, Lia felt a glimmer of hope.

Later That Night, Back in Milan

Dante stood on the balcony of his penthouse, the city lights stretching out before him. His phone buzzed on the table behind him, and he picked it up, frowning when he saw the name on the screen.

"Leonardo," he said, answering the call.

"Dante," came his cousin's smooth voice. "I assume the divorce is finalized?"

"It is," Dante replied curtly.

"Good," Leonardo said, though there was an edge to his tone. "You've done the right thing. Lia was always a liability."

Dante's grip on the phone tightened. "Watch your words, Leonardo."

"Relax, cugino," Leonardo said with a laugh. "I'm just saying that it's better this way. Now you can focus on what really matters—the company."

Dante ended the call without another word, his jaw clenched.

As much as he hated to admit it, Leonardo's words gnawed at him. Was Lia really a liability? Or had he let his pride blind him to the truth?

The questions haunted him as he stared out at the city, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him like a storm cloud.

And in the distance, the first cracks of lightning illuminated the night sky, a harbinger of the storm yet to come.

To Be Continued...