POV: LORENZO
In Rome, Lorenzo Russo sat in his study, a glass of whiskey in hand, reviewing the same surveillance reports Isabella had been sent.
Dimitri and Eve. Together. In love. Building a future. Which he finds unacceptable.
The Russo-Valentino alliance was worth billions. Territories. Power. Influence that spanned continents. And his daughter, his carefully groomed, perfectly trained daughter had allowed some nobody to steal it.
His wife Sophia entered without knocking.
"You were too harsh with her," Sophia said, sitting across from him.
"I was honest. She's failing."
"She's adapting. Building something with Enzo. That's not failure, that's strategy."
"It's SETTLING." Lorenzo's voice was hard. "We didn't raise Isabella to settle.
We raised her to be a queen. The queen. Dimitri Valentino's queen."
"And if she can't get him back?"
"Then she's no daughter of mine." Lorenzo took a drink. "I've already set contingencies in motion."
