☆Chapter 3: A Game of Patience☆

Weeks had passed since Serafina De Luca's name was officially recorded.

And in that time, not much had changed between her and Lorenzo.

He was still the distant, cold man who barely acknowledged her existence. He came and went like a ghost, spending most of his time buried in business and leaving Serafina to navigate life in the mansion on her own.

But Serafina didn't mind.

She thrived in silence.

Lorenzo's indifference gave her space—space to observe, to adapt, and to think. She had learned a long time ago that control didn't come from force. It came from understanding the people around you.

And if there was one thing Serafina was good at, it was studying people.

Especially men like Lorenzo.

Stoic. Detached. A man who built walls so high that no one dared to climb them.

But walls could be scaled.

And Serafina?

She was more than willing to climb.

☆☆☆

Serafina had decided early on that she would live this life differently.

In her previous life, Amelia Santos had lived in a world where power was a double-edged sword. Every move she made was calculated, every relationship forged for survival. She had thrived in the corporate world, but it had come at a cost.

She had lived looking over her shoulder.

Not this time.

This life?

She was going to live as she pleased.

No more chains. No more fear.

But to do that… she needed Lorenzo.

Not his affection. Not his approval.

She needed him to see her. To acknowledge her.

Because in a world like this... the mafia world... being invisible was dangerous.

So, she had a plan.

Make Lorenzo De Luca like her.

Not as a daughter.

But as something he couldn't ignore.

An ASSET.

☆☆☆

Their first conversation happened on a quiet afternoon.

Serafina had been wandering the mansion's library, her fingers trailing along the spines of complicated books when she heard his footsteps.

Lorenzo's steps were always precise, measured—like a man who knew exactly where he was going.

Her back was to him, but she didn't need to see him to know he had entered the room.

"Shouldn't you be playing outside?"

The words were unexpected.

Serafina blinked, her fingers pausing on the edge of a leather-bound novel.

He spoke to me.

Slowly, she turned, her face composed, her expression neutral.

"I prefer books," she said softly, her tone polite but distant.

Lorenzo stood near the doorway, his suit immaculate as always, his posture as rigid as ever. His eyes dark and unreadable scanned her with calculated disinterest.

But Serafina saw the flicker of curiosity beneath the surface.

"You're young," he said, his tone clipped. "Children don't usually… prefer silence."

Serafina tilted her head, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

"Neither do you, sir."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened at the formality, but he said nothing.

"I'm not like other children," she continued, turning her attention back to the books.

"I've noticed." His voice was quieter this time.

Serafina hid her satisfaction.

Hooked.

"Why do you call me 'Sir'?"

Lorenzo's question was abrupt, his tone sharper than necessary.

Serafina turned to face him again, her expression composed.

"Because that's what you prefer, isn't it?"

Lorenzo's eyes narrowed. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then…

"Drop it," he said, his tone final.

Serafina's smile was polite. "No, sir."

Lorenzo's lips pressed into a thin line, but there was no real anger in his eyes.

Good.

This was her way of maintaining distance. A barrier.

Just like him.

☆☆☆

Serafina was patient.

She knew men like Lorenzo didn't trust easily. He was a fortress, and breaking through his walls would take time.

But time was something she had.

Her days were filled with quiet observations and subtle actions that slowly began to chip away at his indifference.

She didn't cling to him.

She didn't seek his approval.

Instead, she excelled in silence—perfect grades from the private tutor he had hired, impeccable manners that made even the staff regard her with quiet respect.

And her growing bond with Don Vincenzo?

That was the ace up her sleeve.

☆☆☆

"Checkmate."

Vincenzo leaned back in his chair, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes as Serafina's fingers gently tapped the final piece.

"Again?" he asked, chuckling softly.

"Always, sir."

"Serafina," he sighed, his tone gentle. "Drop the formalities. I'm your Nonno now."

Serafina smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I prefer it this way," she murmured softly, her tone polite but distant.

Vincenzo studied her for a long moment, his sharp eyes seeing more than he let on.

"Like Lorenzo," he finally murmured, almost to himself.

Serafina's expression remained neutral, but her heart clenched.

He sees it too.

They were alike.

Too alike.

Both of them built walls to keep people out.

But where Lorenzo did it out of necessity, Serafina did it out of habit.

It was safer that way.

☆☆☆

Lorenzo didn't notice it at first.

How could he?

He was too focused on his business, his empire, and the constant threats that came with being the head of the De Luca family.

But little by little…

Serafina's presence seeped into the cracks of his carefully built world.

He noticed how the staff had begun to treat her differently with respect, almost reverence.

He noticed how his grandfather's laughter echoed more frequently, always accompanied by Serafina's soft voice.

And he noticed, though he refused to admit it, that her name lingered in his thoughts far longer than it should.

But he told himself it didn't matter.

She was just a child.

A temporary responsibility.

Nothing more.

But then…

☆☆☆

It was a rare evening when Lorenzo returned home earlier than usual.

The house was quiet, the staff moving like shadows as usual. But as he walked toward his office, a soft sound caught his attention.

Laughter.

Soft. Familiar.

Serafina.

Lorenzo's steps slowed. He followed the sound, his curiosity betraying him.

He found her in the library, curled up in a chair by the window, a book in her hands. But it wasn't the book that had captured her attention.

It was the rain.

Soft drops pattered against the glass, and Serafina's expression…

Peaceful.

For a moment, Lorenzo just stood there.

Watching.

She looked… small.

Vulnerable.

Like a child.

Something in his chest tightened.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Serafina's head turned, her eyes meeting his.

There was no surprise.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, her tone calm.

Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "It's late."

"I know."

"Then go to bed."

Serafina tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

"Why do you care?"

The question was soft. Innocent.

But it hit harder than it should have.

Lorenzo's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I don't."

Liar.

Serafina smiled, soft, almost knowing.

"Goodnight, sir," she murmured, closing her book as she stood.

As she passed him, Lorenzo's hand twitched an almost instinctive motion to stop her.

But he didn't.

He let her go.

But as she disappeared down the hall…

Lorenzo felt the shift.

And he hated it.

Because despite his efforts to remain detached…

Serafina was getting under his skin.

And in the dangerous world they lived in…

That was a weakness he couldn't afford.