Chapter 72

Chapter 62


Adrian's POV

Adrian had always believed he understood people.
In his world, misreading anyone could mean death — or worse. Over the years, he had trained himself to read every flicker of a glance, every tremor in a voice, until nothing surprised him anymore. Or so he thought.

But that night, as he stood by the small firepit on the beach, watching the children play, Lucia’s face wouldn’t leave his mind.

The way she had looked at him earlier — hurt, defensive, desperate — had unsettled him. He hated that feeling, the tightness in his chest he couldn’t name. He hated not knowing. It reminded him of weakness, and weakness was something he couldn’t afford.

He had seen betrayal before. He had survived it, crushed it, built his empire on the ruins it left behind. But Lucia… she was different. Or maybe she had only seemed that way because he wanted to believe in her.

Adrian sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore mixed with the children’s laughter, softening the steel that usually lined his heart. These kids—rescued from brothels, alleys, and men who thought they owned them—were his only peace.

It was strange how they saw him. To the world, he was Adrian Di Santi — the cold, calculating billionaire with too many enemies and too few emotions. But to them, he was just “Uncle Adrian.” A man who bought them toys, who sat in the sand with them, who taught them that the world didn’t always have to hurt.

He watched them run, their little feet kicking up sand, their laughter ringing out under the fading sun.

Still, Lucia’s voice echoed in his head. Her trembling words. Her insistence that Rico was lying.

Rico.

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

He had known Rico nearly all his life. They’d gone through everything together — the same high school, the same fights, the same bloodied knuckles when someone dared mock their poverty. Later, the same college, where they built the first foundations of what would become a global enterprise.

Rico had been his brother before either of them had anything. Adrian had made sure he was always well cared for. When he rose, Rico rose with him. When the money came, Rico had a cut. When danger came, Adrian shielded him.

There was no reason, no logical reason, for Rico to turn against him.

And yet, something about Lucia’s reaction…

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He hated this — doubting himself, doubting the people closest to him. He was never the type to question his instincts, but this time, his instincts were divided.

Rico had always been loyal. Lucia had no reason to lie.

Both couldn’t be right.

He was still lost in thought when a small hand tapped his arm.

“Uncle Adrian,” a tiny voice said.

He turned, looking down at a little girl with curly hair and a missing front tooth. Her smile was wide and bright, untouched by the kind of darkness that had shaped him.

“Come play!” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re building castles! But they keep falling.”

Adrian stared at her for a moment, then smiled despite himself. “Castles, huh? Sounds serious.”

She giggled. “You have to come help! You’re strong. You can make big walls!”

He laughed softly — a sound rare and quiet — and nodded. “All right, show me where.”

Her small fingers wrapped around his, and she led him toward the others running near the shore. The sand was cool beneath their feet, the tide brushing softly against their ankles. When the other kids saw him, they cheered as if a celebrity had joined their game — which, in a way, he had.

“Uncle Adrian is coming!” one boy shouted, jumping.

“Yay!” another squealed.

For a few moments, all the whispers from people watching — the curious looks, the hushed murmurs — faded into nothing.

“Isn’t that the billionaire Adrian Di Santi?” someone whispered nearby.

“What’s he doing here with those kids?” another asked.

“Maybe he’s filming something…”

Adrian ignored them all. He crouched down in the sand, sleeves rolled up, helping the children build the tallest sandcastle they could. He gave instructions like a general leading an army, his voice playful but commanding.

“Dig deeper here. No, not too deep. You want the base strong. Otherwise, the whole thing collapses,” he told one boy.

The child nodded seriously, mimicking him.

Soon, the castle stood tall, with seashells for windows and sticks for flags. The kids clapped, jumping around it, pride lighting up their faces. Adrian smiled, watching their joy.

It had been years since he’d felt anything this pure.

When the sun dipped lower, streaking the sky in shades of gold and violet, Adrian noticed the kids slowing down. Their laughter had turned into tired giggles, their tiny shoulders drooping.

“All right,” he said softly. “That’s enough conquering for one evening.”

There was a chorus of small groans, but no one argued.

He waved to his guards, who had been stationed quietly at a distance the whole time. They came forward, helping the children gather their things. Adrian walked with them to a nearby ice cream parlor by the boardwalk.

The shop owner froze for a second when he recognized him, but Adrian only smiled faintly. “Seven cones,” he said. “Any flavor they want.”

The man nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Right away, Mr. Di Santi.”

Within minutes, the kids were licking their ice creams happily, their faces smeared with chocolate and strawberry. Adrian leaned against the counter, watching them. He caught himself smiling again.

It was moments like this that reminded him why he did what he did. He had built an empire out of blood and steel, yes — but it was also one that allowed him to save lives, in his own way.

He glanced out the window toward the beach, where the last light was fading. The sound of the sea calmed him, even as Lucia’s face flickered again in his mind.

She had looked so… broken.

Maybe he’d been too harsh on her. Maybe she truly believed what she saw.

But if she was right…

Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly. No — Rico wouldn’t dare.

He looked away from the window, trying to shake off the unease. The children were finishing their ice creams, tired but smiling.

He stood, motioning for the guards. “Time to go home.”

The ride back was quiet. The kids dozed off in their seats, their heads leaning against each other. Adrian watched them for a while, a faint sense of warmth stirring beneath his stern exterior. Then, as the car pulled into his gated property, the weight of reality began to settle again.

Rico. Lucia. 

He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When they arrived, he helped the children out, patting each lightly on the head. “Goodnight, soldiers,” he said with a half-smile.

“Goodnight, Uncle Adrian!” they chorused sleepily before heading off to their rooms with their caretakers.

The house grew silent again.

Adrian stood in the hallway for a long moment, loosening his tie. The soft sound of the busy street drifted faintly through the windows. He thought about going to check on Lucia, but the lights from her side of the house were off. She was probably asleep.

He made his way to his study instead. The room was large, lined with books and glass cases. The scent of leather and cedar filled the air. On his desk lay a familiar folder — the one containing Rico’s recent shipment original documents. The same folder he had handed to Lucia earlier that day.

He sank into his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath him, and opened the folder.

Page after page of neatly typed forms stared back at him — shipping details, authorizations, customs clearances. Everything looked perfect, too perfect.

He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and fingers tapping lightly against the paper. The numbers matched. The timelines aligned also.

Still, something felt off.

Adrian frowned, flipping to the next page, scanning the signatures. He had signed most of them himself, but a few were verified by his clearance officer. The man was reliable — meticulous, and honest. His signature had a distinct flourish at the end, something he’d developed years ago.

Adrian had never seen him make a single error.

He turned another page, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The mark was there — but something about it didn’t sit right.

He leaned closer, studying it under the light. His eyes moved from one document to another, comparing, measuring. His gut tightened.

It was faint, almost invisible to anyone else. But Adrian wasn’t anyone else. He saw patterns where others saw paperwork.

And there, beneath the smooth ink....

Something caught his eye.