Chapter 68

Chapter 68


The drive to Rico’s house was tense and silent except for Lucia’s voice breaking through every few minutes.

“Mr Adrian,” she said softly, leaning forward from the backseat, “where exactly are we going? What are you planning to do?”

No response.

She waited a few seconds, then tried again. “Mr Adrian, please. You can’t just keep quiet like this. At least let me know—”

“Lucia,” he said, cutting her off sharply but still calm, “just be quiet.”

The way he said it made her stop immediately. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried that edge — the kind that warned her he was holding something in. She sat back, crossing her arms, her heart thudding. Whatever Adrian had seen earlier had shaken him deeply.

They rode in silence for the rest of the journey. The driver didn’t dare ask questions. The light outside was dark and heavy like it was about to rain. The streetlights flickering past the windows.

When the car finally slowed in front of Rico’s house, Lucia felt her stomach tighten. The place looked peaceful, almost too peaceful. The lawn was neatly trimmed, soft music was playing somewhere in the background, and the smell of freshly watered flowers floated in the air. It didn’t look like the home of a man who was hiding anything.

They stepped out, and almost immediately, the sound of laughter drew their attention to the garden. Vee was on the grass with her two little boys, tossing a small ball between them. The sight should’ve been ordinary, even comforting — but in that moment, it felt strangely out of place.

Vee looked up and froze when she saw Adrian. Her face quickly rearranged itself into a polite smile. She stood, brushing the dirt off her dress, and came forward with a slight bow.

“Good evening, Mr. Di Santi,” she greeted, her tone respectful. “You didn’t tell us you were coming.”

Adrian smiled faintly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Evening, Vee.”

Lucia stood a few steps behind him, her eyes darting nervously between them.

“Where’s Rico?” Adrian asked.

Vee blinked in confusion. “He’s not back yet. I thought he was out with you… working?”

Adrian’s expression didn’t shift, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. His voice dropped lower. “No, he wasn’t.”

Vee hesitated, sensing the tension but not understanding it. “Oh. That’s strange. He told me he’d be with you all evening.”

Adrian exhaled slowly through his nose and forced a small nod. “It’s fine. Just tell him I came by.”

“Of course,” she said, still looking puzzled.

Lucia watched quietly, unsure if she should speak. She knew that tone in Adrian’s voice — the one that said he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to see.

Adrian’s eyes drifted toward the driveway. It was empty. Rico’s car wasn’t there. The silver sedan that always sat gleaming in the same spot, the one Rico once claimed had been totaled, was gone.

“Where’s his car?” Adrian asked.

“Oh,” Vee said, shrugging lightly, “he crashed it a few months ago. Bad accident. Said it wasn’t repairable.”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t tell me that.”

Vee shook her head, oblivious to the storm building inside him. “He probably didn’t want to worry you.”

Adrian nodded slowly, the gesture tight with suspicion.

And then his eyes caught something — a small piece of fabric tied around a flowerpot by the porch. His gaze lingered, the pattern digging into his memory until recognition struck him like a blow. The fabric was soft blue with silver embroidery along the edges — the same pattern Matteo had shown him months ago from Lucia’s wrecked car.

Lucia followed his line of sight and froze. Her pulse quickened, her lips parting as realization sank in. That was hers. The dress she’d worn the night of her accident. The same one she’d thought was lost when the paramedics cut it apart.

She stared at it, trembling slightly. When she finally tried to speak, Adrian’s low voice stopped her.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, without turning.

She bit her lip and looked away.

The two boys ran up then, giggling, their hands covered in grass. “Uncle Adrian!” one of them shouted.

Adrian forced a small smile, crouching to their level. He placed a hand on each of their heads, his voice soft. “Hey, boys. You’ve grown.”

They beamed up at him, innocent, and unaware. He managed a brief smile before standing again.

“All right, Vee,” he said gently. “Just tell Rico I stopped by.”

She nodded. “I will, sir.”

He gave a short nod and turned back to the car. Lucia followed quietly, her mind spinning.

Once the doors shut and the car pulled away, Adrian finally spoke, still looking out the window. “He’s playing games with me,” he said flatly.

Lucia’s voice trembled. “Rico?”

Adrian nodded. “But that’s not what hurts.” He paused, jaw tightening. “What hurts is that it’s him.”

Lucia stared at him, unsure what to say. “Mr Adrian… that cloth, my dress… how could it be there?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, his expression grim.

“Was Rico… was he the one who caused my accident?” she whispered.

Adrian’s hand tightened slightly against his thigh, but his voice didn’t come. He just swallowed hard and looked away. That silence was an answer enough.

The car drove on, and neither of them spoke again.

When they arrived at the office, Adrian was the first out. He walked briskly through the hallway, ignoring the greetings from staff. His assistant trailed behind him, informing him of waiting clients, but he barely heard her.

“Cancel all meetings,” he said curtly. “Let them wait or have someone else handle it.”

The assistant hesitated. “But sir, Mr. DeLuca—”

“Handle it,” Adrian repeated, his tone final.

Lucia followed him into his office, hesitant. He paced slowly to his desk, running a hand over it as though grounding himself. She’d seen him angry before — but never like this. This wasn’t rage; it was something colder, heavier.

She stood by the door, uncertain.

“Mr Adrian…” she began carefully.

But before she could continue, the door opened again.

Rico walked in.

He looked calm, maybe a bit confused, with that easy smile he always wore — the kind that used to make people drop their guard.

“Vee called,” Rico said, shutting the door behind him. “She said you stopped by. Is everything okay? You should’ve just called me.”

Adrian didn’t answer. He leaned against his desk with his eyes fixed on him.

Rico kept talking, oblivious. “I’ve been busy, man. You know how it is. I had to take care of some—”

“How dare you lie to my face,” Adrian said quietly.

Rico froze mid-sentence, his smile fading. “What?”

Adrian straightened up slowly. “You heard me.”

Rico blinked, trying to keep his composure. “What the hell are you talking about, Adrian? I’m not lying—”

“Enough,” Adrian cut in, his tone still calm but sharp enough to slice through the room and make Rico flinch. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Rico’s jaw clenched. “I’m tired of your outbursts. You’ve been on edge for weeks, and now you’re accusing me of lying? Do you even hear yourself?”

Adrian stepped closer, his eyes flickering with disgust and anger.. “Where were you today?”

Rico’s eyes flicked briefly to the floor, then back up. “That’s none of your business. I was busy.”

“Busy,” Adrian repeated softly. “Doing what?”

Rico sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “Adrian, what the hell is this interrogation? I said I was busy!”

Adrian tilted his head slightly. “When did you start being this way, Rico?”

Rico paused, thrown off by the question. “Being what?”

“Dishonest,” Adrian said. “Reckless. Disrespectful.”

Rico scoffed and looked away. “You’re reading too much into things.”

Adrian walked to the side of his desk, reached for a drawer, and pulled something out. He placed it on the desk — a small, torn piece of blue fabric.

Rico’s eyes flicked to it, and for the first time, his expression faltered.

“This,” Adrian said quietly, “belongs to Lucia. I saw it today at your house. Why?”

Rico stared at the fabric, then let out a dry laugh. “You can’t be serious. That’s just a piece of cloth, Adrian. Is it now a crime to have fabric in my house?”

Adrian’s tone didn’t rise. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

Rico folded his arms, smirking. “That gown could belong to anyone. It’s common. You can find it anywhere.”

Adrian shook his head slowly. “No. You can’t.”

Rico raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“I bought it,” Adrian said. “From Italy. It was the last of its kind. Limited design, custom batch. There’s no other like it.”

Rico’s smirk faded slightly, but he recovered quickly, chuckling. “So what are you saying? That I snuck into her wardrobe to steal her dress?”

Lucia, who had been standing just outside the slightly ajar door, froze. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the moment she heard her name, she couldn’t move.

Her heart pounded as she listened.

She remembered now — the day the maid brought her that gown. “The boss said to give you this,” the maid had said with a small smile. Lucia had been confused. There was no occasion, no event. She hadn’t even known the cost of that dress.

And now, it all made sense.

Inside, Rico laughed again, louder this time, though it sounded strained. “So what, Adrian? You go around buying dresses for your employees now?”

Adrian’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t answer, didn’t rise to the bait. His silence was cutting enough.

Rico pointed a finger at him. “Tell me, where did my former boss go? after all your accusations and your self-righteousness? You’re walking the same path that caused the collapse of many companies, my friend.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed level. “I’m not your friend.”

Rico’s smile faded completely. The tension in the room was suffocating now, thick enough to choke on.

Adrian finally spoke again, calm and deliberate. “Everything in your possession that belongs to me or this company — return it. Immediately.”

Rico stared at him with a shock expression, he wanted to talk but scoffed then gave a small, mocking nod. “Of course,” he said slowly. “If that makes you sleep better.”