Chapter 8 - Shadows of the Past
For two weeks, Clare lived in a dream.
She officially moved into her high-powered executive office at Vitali Enterprises, completely revolutionizing the company’s logistics network with her brilliant strategies. Every evening, she returned to the Lake Minnetonka estate with Leandro, sharing intimate dinners, quiet walks along the snow-covered grounds, and passionate nights in his bed.
Leandro treated her like a queen, showering her with subtle affection and unyielding respect.
However, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon.
One rainy Thursday evening, while Leandro was in a high-level meeting with his construction union bosses downstairs, Clare was working late in his private home study.
A loud knock sounded at the heavy oak door.
Before Clare could answer, the door swung open, and a woman walked in unannounced. She was tall, impossibly thin, wearing a five-thousand-dollar designer trench coat, with platinum blonde hair and sharp, aristocratic features.
It was Victoria Moretti—the daughter of Chicago’s most powerful syndicate family and Leandro’s former fiancée who had abandoned him four years ago after his accident.
Victoria stopped, eyeing Clare up and down with sneering disdain, her gaze landing on the silk shirt of Leandro’s that Clare was wearing.
"So," Victoria drawled coldly, setting her Hermes bag on the desk. "The rumors are true. Leandro really replaced me with a plump little clerk."
Clare stood up straight behind the desk, keeping her composure. "You're in a private home, Miss Moretti. Please leave."
Victoria laughed dryly, stepping closer. "Don't get comfortable, darling. Leandro is using you to hurt Wesley and spite society. Do you really think a man like him—a Vitali—would ever marry someone like you? You don't belong in our world."
"She belongs here far more than you ever did," a lethal voice boomed from the doorway.
Leandro stood there, his eyes burning with black fury. Marko stood right behind him, ready to intervene.
Victoria turned, putting on a sweet, manipulative smile. "Leandro, darling... I heard about your business expansion. My father sent me to discuss re-establishing our families' alliance... and our engagement."
Leandro walked into the room, going straight to Clare’s side and putting his arm possessively around her waist.
"Our engagement ended four years ago, Victoria," Leandro said coldly. "When I was lying in an ICU hospital bed with half my face torn open, and you walked out because you couldn't stand the sight of my scars."
Victoria flinched. "I was young... I made a mistake—"
"Get out of my house," Leandro commanded softly, the sheer menace in his tone leaving no room for argument. "If you or your father ever step foot in Minneapolis again, I will crush your shipping lines in Chicago. Marko, escort her to the gate."
Victoria glared at Clare with intense hatred before turning on her high heels and storming out.
Clare looked up at Leandro, feeling a sudden pang of doubt. "Leandro... is she right? Am I just a distraction?"
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Leandro cupped her face with both hands, looking into her eyes with raw intensity.
"Listen to me, Clare. Victoria left because she was weak. You walked into my life, looked at my scars, looked at my world, and held my hand. You are my future. No one else."
