The Morning After

Valerio awoke with a contentment he hadn't known in years. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind like a dream, so vivid that he could still feel the warmth of Leona's skin pressed against his. The way she had kissed him, the way their bodies had moved together in perfect harmony — it had been a release, an affirmation of everything he had longed for. It had been more than just passion. It had been connection. It had been a surrender, but also a claiming.

His fingers grazed the empty space beside him, and for a brief moment, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips. She was gone. The warmth that had been beside him was no longer there.

Valerio shifted slightly, his body still groggy from the intense, intoxicating exhaustion of their shared night. The room was bathed in soft, morning light, filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over everything. He blinked a few times, stretching his body, trying to shake off the sleep that clung to him.

Leona was probably downstairs, he thought. She had always been independent, often rising early, her mind never still. Maybe she was already out of bed, doing something, taking a walk, or simply getting ready for the day.

With a soft sigh, he threw the covers off, the coolness of the room hitting his skin as he sat up. His heart still thudded in his chest, the events of the night before filling him with a quiet satisfaction that only the few, true moments of fulfillment could bring. It had felt right. The way she had come to him, the way she had opened up — even if it was just for a short while — had made all the difference. It felt like more than just a stolen moment.

Valerio rubbed his face and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up. The silence in the room was comfortable, though now a sense of unease started to grow at the edges of his mind. He didn't hear any sounds from downstairs, no soft movement or distant noises. No music playing from Leona's room, no sound of the shower running, or even the soft shuffle of her feet on the stairs.

He paused.

Something felt… off.

His mind wandered to the things he had learned about Leona, the subtle layers of her past, the way she kept to herself, the things she kept buried. It wasn't unusual for her to slip away, to keep her distance. She was never one to open up fully, even to him. But after everything last night, he had expected her to stay. To linger. To be there when he woke up.

Valerio's chest tightened, his fingers curling into a fist. He tried to push down the anxiety gnawing at him, but the feeling only grew stronger. He grabbed a shirt from the back of the chair beside the bed and pulled it on quickly, heading for the door.

His first instinct was to check downstairs, but as he stepped into the hall, the stillness of the house only deepened the unease in his gut. The house was quieter than usual, almost too quiet. There was no sign of movement, no hint of life. He started walking down the stairs quickly, calling her name softly at first, unsure if she would be able to hear him.

"Leona?" His voice was low, tentative, almost a whisper in the stillness of the house.

He made his way into the living room, scanning every corner. No sign of her. The kitchen was just as empty. He even checked the back porch, but the door was ajar, and she wasn't there either.

His heart began to beat faster now, panic slowly creeping in. Where was she?

"Leona?" he called again, his voice more urgent this time.

Valerio turned on his heel and walked back into the hallway, heading toward the staircase that led to the other rooms of the house. His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, none of them good. Had she left? Had she gone somewhere without telling him? But why? She knew they had shared something real, something important.

And yet… the emptiness of her absence tugged at him, a heavy weight pressing on his chest.

He knocked on her door, though there was no answer. His heart thudded painfully as he pushed the door open. The room was immaculate, just as he had left it the night before, but there was no sign of her. Her bed was still made, the sheets perfectly smooth. Her things were in their usual places — nothing out of place, nothing to suggest she had been there at all.

A sudden, overwhelming thought struck him.

Had she left without a word?

Valerio's frustration mounted as he quickly moved back downstairs. He checked the kitchen again, but there was no sign of her. The rest of the staff was just beginning to stir, starting their morning routines. He spotted one of the maids in the hallway and approached her.

"Have you seen Leona?" he asked, his tone barely controlled. "Where is she?"

The maid looked up, her expression a bit surprised. "I haven't seen her, sir. I'm afraid I don't know where she's gone."

Valerio nodded tightly, turning away quickly. His mind was whirling now. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but the possibility of her leaving without saying anything gnawed at him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Dante appeared at the end of the hallway, his face still shadowed by sleep, but his posture was alert, his eyes quickly assessing Valerio's expression.

"Valerio?" Dante's voice was soft, laced with concern. "What's wrong? Is something going on?"

Valerio turned to face him, his jaw clenched. "Leona's gone," he said, his voice tight with a mixture of frustration and confusion. "I woke up, and she's not here. I checked everywhere."

Dante's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he processed what Valerio had said. "She's not in her room?"

"No. She's nowhere," Valerio replied, his tone sharp. "It's like she just vanished."

Dante remained silent for a moment, considering the situation. "Maybe she needed some time alone," he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction. "She's always been like that, hasn't she? Detached. Hard to pin down."

Valerio's frustration flared again. "This isn't like her," he snapped. "She was here, Dante. We… we were together last night. She didn't leave. She wouldn't just leave."

Dante paused for a moment, his eyes searching Valerio's face. It was clear that his brother was worried — and he had every right to be. But Dante's own concerns were starting to settle in, too. Leona had always been unpredictable. She had her own way of doing things, her own motivations that only she truly understood.

"We'll find her," Dante said finally, his tone firm. "Don't worry."

Valerio nodded, though his mind was still running in a hundred different directions. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was off. Leona wasn't one to just disappear without a word, not after everything they'd shared.

Dante started to walk toward the other rooms, his footsteps steady. "I'll check with the others. Maybe someone saw something last night."

Valerio remained where he was, the weight of his worry still heavy on his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that Leona had slipped away from him, that somehow, despite everything, she had disappeared into the night.

What had she been running from? What had she hidden from him?

The questions churned in his mind, making him feel more helpless than he ever had before. But one thing was certain. He wouldn't stop until he found her.

Valerio stood motionless in the middle of the hallway. The ache in his chest had transformed into a gaping void. The house was awake now, buzzing with activity and whispered concerns. Leona's sudden disappearance had rippled through the family like a silent earthquake, unsettling everything in its path.

He stormed back up the stairs, flung open every door on the floor, calling her name louder this time. No reply. Even her scent, usually lingering in the air — sweet and fleeting like jasmine — was fading. He returned to her room and opened the wardrobe, only to find it eerily empty. The dresses, the shoes, even the jacket she'd tossed over the chair two nights ago — all gone.

Valerio's pulse thundered in his ears. She hadn't just slipped out. She had left.

Dante arrived at the doorway, expression grim. "I checked the garage. Her duffel is gone. The red one."

Valerio turned to him sharply. "How the hell did she sneak out with it? Nobody saw anything?"

Dante shook his head. "I already spoke to the guards. She must've left before sunrise. We were all out cold."

A tension-laced silence settled between the brothers before footsteps echoed down the hall. Chiara appeared, her face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. "She's not on the grounds. The staff searched every inch of the property."

Valerio ran a hand down his face. "She left without a goddamn word."

Chiara hesitated, then said, "There's something else."

She turned and led them into the room Leona had claimed as her own. The windows were shut, curtains drawn neatly. The bed was made with an eerie precision, as if no one had ever touched it. Chiara opened the closet — completely bare. Even the drawer where she kept her journals, the perfume on the table, the photograph tucked behind the mirror — gone.

"It's like she never existed here," Chiara whispered.

Dante moved to the dresser, opened the drawers. Empty.

Valerio clenched his fists. "She wiped herself out."

Chiara turned slowly to him. "Not just her things. Every trace that Leona Vale ever stepped into this house — it's gone."

Silence fell over them.

Valerio felt like he couldn't breathe.

No note.

No message.

No goodbye.

Only the lingering void where she had once been — so full of life, chaos, mystery.

Alessia stood in the doorway now. Her face was unreadable, but her voice was quiet. "I checked the digital logs. No ID swipe. No car movement. But she's not here."

"Then how did she leave?" Dante snapped.

Alessia's gaze dropped. "I don't think she used the front gates. I think she walked through the woods."

Valerio shook his head in disbelief. "She could've been attacked—"

"She wasn't," Alessia cut in gently. "She didn't run away. She planned it. Every bit of it. She wanted us to believe she was never here."

Chiara exhaled shakily. "What does that even mean?"

No one answered.

They stood in that hollowed-out space where a woman they all knew — or thought they knew — had lived and laughed and cried. And now, she was gone. As if the house had imagined her.

Valerio finally spoke. "Find out where she went. Use every camera. Every person we know. I don't care how long it takes. Bring her back."

But something in him already knew:

She wasn't just gone.

She had chosen to disappear.

And she had done it flawlessly.

Like a ghost trained to vanish.

Like Vesper.

BREAKING NEWS – NYC ERUPTS IN FLAMES: THREE WAREHOUSES LINKED TO DE LUCA FAMILY DESTROYED IN COORDINATED EXPLOSIONS

"What appears to be a highly-coordinated series of bombings rocked New York City last night, targeting three warehouses suspected to have ties with the notorious De Luca crime family. The explosions, happening within minutes of each other, set the skyline ablaze and sent shockwaves across the criminal underworld.

Sources report the damage is extensive, with millions lost in illegal weapons and assets. Authorities have yet to identify any suspects, but one chilling detail has surfaced: all three locations bore a single mark—a large, red-painted letter 'V'. No additional message, no known symbolism. Just the haunting trace of whoever did this.

This isn't the work of a rookie or a rival gang. Experts say the precision and timing suggest military-level expertise—or something far more dangerous. Panic ripples across the city's underground. Who is 'V'? Why now? And what's next?"

As the news played across the television, the entire house sat frozen.

Valerio's hand clenched the glass of whiskey tighter. His throat was dry. The mark. The method. The silence.

His eyes didn't move from the screen as a terrible thought took root in his chest, sharp and gutting.

No. It couldn't be… Leona?

But his gut twisted cruelly. He swallowed hard.

And for the first time, he was afraid his suspicion might be right.