I had twelve candles left. That was all. Twelve candles, one silver lighter, and a dining room full of people pretending not to

(Word count: ~1500 words)

The words hung in the warm, humid air of the gardener’s cottage like a strike of thunder.

Luca stared down at the black-and-white photograph. His father, Antonio Moretti, had died fifteen years ago—a ruthless syndicate leader whose sudden heart attack had passed the empire down to a twenty-four-year-old Luca.

"My father?" Luca’s voice was dangerously low. "Vanessa was nineteen years old when my father died."

"She didn't come here as his lover, Luca," Rosa said softly, sitting down across from him. "She came here as his debt collector."

Luca frowned, turning the antique brass key over in his fingers. "The Bellini family has been prominent in Chicago politics for thirty years. What debt could a nineteen-year-old politician's daughter collect from Antonio Moretti?"

"Her father, Senator Bellini, was secretly broke twelve years ago," Rosa revealed, leaning closer. "He took a fifteen-million-dollar cash loan from your father to finance his first senatorial campaign. When your father died unexpectedly, Senator Bellini thought the debt died with him. But your mother found the original paper ledger hidden in your father's private vault."

Rosa pointed a trembling finger at the sealed envelope sitting on the wooden table.

"Your mother called Senator Bellini to this estate to demand repayment," Rosa continued. "Instead of coming himself, he sent his nineteen-year-old daughter, Vanessa, with a forged release document. Vanessa tried to bribe your mother, offering her political favors and police protection in exchange for burning that ledger."

Luca's eyes narrowed. "And my mother refused."

"Your mother threw her out of the house," Rosa said firmly. "Your mother told Vanessa that the Bellini family were snakes. But seven years later... Vanessa showed up in Miami, met you at that charity gala, and spent the next five years working her way into your heart, your bed, and your estate."

Luca closed his eyes, a cold, violent rage blooming behind his ribs. Everything he had believed about his five-year relationship with Vanessa was a calculated lie. She hadn't fallen in love with him in Miami. She had hunted him. She had spent half a decade infiltrating his life to find that fifteen-million-dollar ledger before he discovered it.

Luca stood up, slipping the sealed envelope, the brass key, and the photograph into his suit pocket.

"Rosa," Luca said, his voice dropping into the icy tone that made grown men tremble. "You're staying in the main house tonight."

"Luca, no, Vanessa will—"

"Vanessa doesn't own a single stone of this estate," Luca interrupted smoothly. "And by tomorrow morning, she won't even have a key."

Ten minutes later, I was lying on a soft leather examination couch in the estate’s private medical wing on the second floor.

Dr. Harris, a kind, elderly physician who had served the Moretti family for decades, finished shining a small penlight into my left eye. Mrs. Carter stood nearby, holding a ice pack and a clean glass of water.

"Good news, my dear," Dr. Harris said gently, setting his light down. "Your retina is completely intact. The bone beneath your eyebrow took the brunt of the impact, causing severe tissue swelling that pressed against your optic nerve. That’s why your vision was doubling."

I let out a massive sigh of relief. "So... I won't go blind?"

"Not at all," Dr. Harris smiled, applying a cooling medicinal salve over my bruised cheekbone. "With ice and twenty-four hours of rest, the swelling will subside, and your vision will return to normal by tomorrow evening."

The heavy medical room door clicked open.

Luca walked inside. He had removed his wet suit jacket, wearing only his white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

Mrs. Carter and Dr. Harris immediately straightened.

"How is she?" Luca asked, his gray eyes locking directly onto mine.

"She will make a full recovery, Mr. Moretti," Dr. Harris reported. "She just needs rest and ice."

Luca nodded once. "Thank you, Doctor. Mrs. Carter, please prepare the master guest suite on the third floor for Julia. And have Rosa Alvarez settled into the blue bedroom beside it."

Mrs. Carter looked astonished. "The master guest suite, sir? But that's reserved for family—"

"Julia is resting in the master guest suite," Luca repeated flatly. "And tell my security guards at the front gates that Miss Bellini is not permitted on the third floor tonight under any circumstances."

"Yes, Mr. Moretti," Mrs. Carter bowed her head quickly, leading Dr. Harris out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving Luca and me alone in the quiet medical room.

Luca stepped closer to the leather couch. The intimidation that usually radiated from him was gone, replaced by a deep, intense gentleness that made my chest ache.

He reached out, his large, warm hand gently taking mine. He looked down at the dark bruise covering my cheekbone.

"Rosa told me everything," Luca said softly.

My breath caught in my throat. "Mr. Moretti... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble at your dinner—"

"Stop," Luca commanded gently, his thumb softly tracing the back of my hand. "You saved an seventy-two-year-old woman from being thrown out into a rainstorm. You took a physical blow to your face, lost your vision, and then endured hours of agony at my dinner table just to keep Rosa safe from Vanessa."

He looked deeply into my eyes, his gray gaze burning with an intensity that made my pulse race.

"You don't owe me an apology, Julia. I owe you everything."

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. "Vanessa threatened my father's pension. I was so scared..."

"Vanessa Bellini will never threaten you or your father again," Luca promised, his voice low and fierce. "I give you my word as a Moretti."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and set it on the side table beside my bed. Inside was a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills and a key.

"That is ten thousand dollars for your father's heating bills and your rent," Luca explained. "And that key belongs to a private apartment downtown. It's yours. Fully paid for five years."

I stared at the velvet box in absolute shock. "Mr. Moretti... I can't accept this! I'm just a maid—"

"You're not a maid anymore, Julia," Luca whispered, leaning down until his handsome face was just inches from mine. "Starting tonight... you're under my personal protection."

Before I could answer, the door burst open.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, wearing her red silk gown, her eyes blazing with fury as she saw Luca standing beside my bed, holding my hand.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vanessa shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Why is a servant being moved to the master suite? Luca, have you lost your mind?"

Luca didn't flinch. He slowly stood up to his full height, turning around to face his fiancée.

"Leave the room, Vanessa," Luca said softly.

"I will not!" Vanessa snapped, taking a step inside. "I am your fiancée! I am the mistress of this house! I demand to know why you're catering to this pathetic little—"

"I said," Luca's voice dropped into a register so dark the air in the room seemed to freeze, "leave the room before I have my men throw you out into the rain."

Vanessa froze. The absolute hatred in Luca's gray eyes made her take a sudden step backward. She looked at me, her eyes filled with murderous rage, before turning on her heel and storming down the hallway, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble.