Chapter 4: Web of Deceit

Isabella's POV

Luca's garage was a marvel. It looked like a cathedral for machines—spotless concrete floors, high ceilings, and rows of sleek, exotic cars that gleamed beneath fluorescent lights like they belonged in a luxury magazine spread. The polished floor reflected their curves like glass.

Everything about this mansion screamed wealth. No—power. From the multiple kitchens with marble countertops to gold-plated fixtures and private elevators, it made my father's estate look like a modest summer home or a rich man's imitation.

And yet, none of it compared to Luca Moretti himself.

It wasn't just because I needed to find ways to make my father and me more powerful. It was the way Luca moved—like the silence between words. The cold calculation in his eyes. Luca didn't just exist in a room—he owned it.

"Isabella."

His deep voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I turned, smiling softly. "Yes, Luca?"

He didn't smile back. His expression unreadable,Voice cold.

"You've been here for days and I don't want you idle in this house, so I asked your father for your academic records and certificate."

He let the pause linger.

"and i must say... you did well."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Thank you…" I murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"So i've arranged a job for you. My associate owns a company. You'll start working there next week."

That was it, no discussion.Just orders—wrapped in icy indifference and most importantly, no choice. Still, I played along, masking my annoyance.

"Wow. Thank you, Luca!" I said brightly, faking enthusiasm. "That's so thoughtful of you."

He didn't respond, Just looked at me—sharp, unreadable—then turned and walked away.

I stood there, fake smile frozen, heart pounding.

Then I thought

If this was a test, I must make I was going to pass it, then I'd earn his trust—and maybe become something more.

But I couldn't forget one thing.

Luca Moretti doesn't do favors.

He makes investments.

---

Celeste's POV

Returning to work after days away felt... strange, Like stepping into someone else's life.

Rachel, my longtime colleague, tried to lift the mood with her usual sarcasm, bad jokes, and freshly brewed coffee. And yes,It helped—a little.

But inside, my thoughts spiraled.

Luca Moretti had sent over an official offer—inviting me to be his personal legal counsel. Just like that.

Every fiber of my professional instincts screamed conflict of interest. Every ethical bone told me to decline.

But another part of me—a quieter, darker part—wanted to say yes.

It wasn't about attraction or curiosity, it was strategy.

That man was a walking red flag. A contradiction wrapped in control.

And accepting meant access,Proximity.

And Luca didn't let people close unless he wanted something.

Luca doesn't allow that without reason.

And I needed to know what that reason was.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

Text from Marcus:

"Meet me at the café, our usual spot. It's urgent."

My pulse jumped. I grabbed my coat and left.

Something told me—this wasn't small talk.

---

Luca's POV

From the balcony, I watched the city sink into dusk. A golden haze bled into the skyline, blurring the edges of glass towers and asphalt veins.

There was always comfort in the view from this height, the city sprawled like something beneath my control.

"Mark."

My most trusted guard stepped from the shadows behind me.

"How are the men who touched Celeste?"

"Handled," he said. "Unrecognizable, but alive."

A thin smile touched my lips. "Good,Send their bodies back to their boss, crushed and packaged In a box."

Mark nodded and vanished.

This wasn't vengeance, not yet. This was a message.

I wanted Celeste to know she was being watched and protected, but not out of kindness.

Am sure she hasn't realized she was already a pawn on my board. But soon, she'd start asking questions.

But something about her made me restless, and hate restlessness.

Emotions kill, my father used to say.

Yet, the way her lips shaped my name... it made my control slip.

Luca clenched his fist, crushing the thought before it bloomed.

She wasn't an exception.

She was a target.

So.

Let her dig.

Let her come closer.

Let her believe this was about her job—about justice.

But the truth?

I want her mind as my cage.

---

Tea Haul Café – Celeste

The café smelled of roasted beans and blooming hibiscus. The breeze drifted in through the open windows, soft and warm.

It should've felt calming Instead, my nerves twisted tight.

Marcus sat at our usual corner table by the window. When he saw me, he stood and pulled me into a hug.

"Celeste," he said, his voice warmer than usual. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I smiled. "Still a workaholic, I see."

He chuckled—but it didn't reach his eyes.

I sat. "Alright, am actually curious can you spill, What's going on?"

His smile faded. He slid his tablet across the table.

"Celeste... I found something. Something bad. And it could incriminate you and also affect your job."

My chest tightened. "What do you mean?"

He swiped through photos. My hands trembled.

Images of mutilated bodies—bloodied, twisted, broken. One face struck me.

The man who hit my car.

But it wasn't just what chilled me.

It was the message carved into one of the bodies:

"La prossima volta non toccare ciò che è mio. Perché lei è mia."

I whispered the translation aloud:

> Next time, don't touch what's mine. Because she is mine.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

"Marcus," I breathed. "What... what is this?"

"I don't know," he said. "Thats why you needed to see it first,This isn't random it's personal and Someone somewhere is sending a message. A very harmful one."

"Marcus I swear to you—I have nothing to do with this, I don't even know anything about it"

"I know, I believe you," he said, leaning in. "But whoever did this, they're watching. They want you to know they're watching and it might harm you"

"oh my gosh... Can you trace the source?"

"After the dump, everything went dark. They're careful, Scary careful there no clue anywhere it's like they wiped it off."

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number.

I slipped it into my purse.

Then again. Another vibration, Subtle and dismissive, But my instincts flared.

I pulled it out. Two new messages.

My thumb hovered. Then tapped.

Blood drained from my face.

I reread the texts again. And again. Each word hammering into my skull.

The first message:

A photo of the same bloodied man. The carved message visible.

The second:

"Hope you liked the gift. You two are playing a game without me and thats... So how about we make it three?"

See you soon.

My grip faltered. The phone almost slipped,My stomach coiled.

"Fuck."

Marcus looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer.

Next moment—I bolted,Coat in hand.

The world outside blurred as I ran. Wind, cold, breath—all gone.

Only one thought echoed in my mind.

Who sent the message...

And what the hell have I just been pulled into?