Rain hammered Manhattan hard enough to make the floor-to-ceiling windows of The Velvet Room tremble.

The atmosphere in the studio went completely dead.

Vanessa’s smug, triumphant expression faltered slightly. She glanced at Gerard, whose face had turned the color of damp chalk, his eyes darting frantically toward the door as if calculating his chances of escape.

“Enzo,” Vanessa began, her voice losing its razor-sharp edge, trying to adopt a tone of concerned affection. “This is ridiculous. Why would you waste time looking at security tapes for a fifty-dollar spoon? Gerard is the manager of a high-end establishment. His word should be enough—”

“Gerard is an employee,” Lorenzo cut in, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying rumble. “And you are a guest who has overstayed her welcome by three months.”

Lucia stood behind Lorenzo, her hand gripping the edge of the wooden easel. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat, but watching the towering silhouette of Lorenzo standing between her and her accusers gave her a strange, unwavering anchor.

Five minutes later, the studio door opened again.

Thomas walked in carrying a sleek, black ruggedized laptop. Without saying a word, he set the laptop on the workbench beside Lucia’s pigment jars, opened the screen, and tapped a few keys.

“Camera 4, service corridor, 9:22 PM yesterday, sir,” Thomas said calmly.

Lorenzo stepped up to the bench. “Play it.”

Vanessa and Gerard were forced to step closer, standing under the bright glare of the overhead studio lights.

The video played in crisp, high-definition color.

On the screen, the dimly lit service station of The Velvet Room appeared. Lucia was visible in the background, walking away toward Table Four with a tray of sparkling water.

A few seconds later, Gerard walked up to the station. He glanced around nervously, checking both ends of the hallway.

Then, the video showed Gerard opening his own jacket pocket, reaching into the silver drawer, pulling out three antique silver spoons, and slipping them directly into his coat.

Two minutes later, after Lucia walked past to return to the kitchen, Gerard approached Lucia’s coat hanging on the employee rack, reached into his coat, and jammed one of the spoons deep into the inner pocket of her faded trench coat.

The evidence was absolute. It was clear, undeniable, and broadcast in 4K resolution.

Lucia let out a long, shuddering breath, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

Gerard collapsed onto his knees right there on the hardwood floor, weeping hysterically. “Mr. Romano! Please! Miss St. James paid me! She gave me five thousand dollars to put the spoon in her coat! She said she wanted the girl fired and arrested so she wouldn't come near your mother again!”

Vanessa gasped, her eyes wide with frantic horror. “You lying little worm! How dare you—”

“Thomas,” Lorenzo commanded softly, not even looking at Vanessa. “Call the Precinct Commander. Have two officers dispatched here to arrest Mr. Gerard for corporate theft, evidence tampering, and filing a false police report.”

“Right away, sir,” Thomas said, pulling his phone out and stepping toward the hallway.

“And Thomas,” Lorenzo added, his voice dropping into a register that made the windows rattle softly. “Call the managing partners at St. James Development. Inform them that The Romano Group has officially canceled our forty-million-dollar credit facility for their Midtown tower, effective immediately. Cite gross ethical violations by the executive family.”

Vanessa let out a high-pitched, hysterical shriek. “No! Enzo, you can’t! My father’s firm will go bankrupt! You’re destroying my family over a server?!”

Lorenzo turned to face Vanessa.

The look in his eyes was so cold, so devoid of mercy, that Vanessa stumbled backward, catching herself against the doorframe.

“I am not destroying your family because of a server, Vanessa,” Lorenzo said, stepping toward her until his broad shoulders completely dominated her vision. “I am destroying your family because you are a cruel, hollow predator who thought she could destroy an innocent woman to protect her own fragile vanity.”

He leaned down, his dark eyes burning with absolute, lethal fury.

“Get out of my studio,” Lorenzo whispered. “Before I have security throw you down the stairs.”

Vanessa turned and fled down the hallway, her high heels clicking a frantic, desperate retreat, her weeping cries echoing down the stairwell as Thomas guided the sobbing Gerard out behind her.

The heavy studio door clicked shut.

Silence returned to the high-ceilinged room.

Lucia stood beside the easel, her hands trembling, her mind reeling from the terrifying speed with which Lorenzo had completely dismantled two powerful people in under ten minutes.

Lorenzo turned slowly to face her.

The cold, ruthless titan vanished instantly, replaced by the man who had written his private phone number on the palm of her hand.

He walked over to her, reaching out to gently take both of her shaking hands in his large, warm grip.

“Are you alright, Lucia?” he asked softly.

Lucia looked up into his eyes, a dry, emotional laugh escaping her lips. “I... I don't know. I’ve never seen anyone do what you just did.”

“They tried to hurt you,” Lorenzo said simply, as if that explained everything in the universe. “I don't allow people to hurt what belongs to me.”

Lucia’s heart stopped. What belongs to me.

She looked into his eyes, seeing no hesitation, no doubt—only a deep, fierce protection that made her feel safer than she had in her entire life.

“Lorenzo...” she whispered.

He raised his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jawline, tipping her chin up until her lips were inches from his.

“I’m taking you to dinner tonight, Lucia Rossi,” Lorenzo murmured, his breath warm against her mouth. “Not at The Velvet Room. At my mother’s house in Brooklyn. Where people eat real food, speak the old language, and know how to love.”