CHAPTER 63:Mine in Life and Death
LILIANA
Just as Damian warned, there are spies among his men two of them, planted by the Greco family.
What unsettles me most isn’t their betrayal, but their lack of fear. They walk the halls of the mighty Damian’s empire as if they are untouchable, as if death itself won’t come for them.
One of them is Joe. On the surface, he’s harmless, the eager worker always offering Damian tidbits about his colleagues. At first, I brushed it off as ambition. But then he started drawing closer to me, too close. His sudden interest in my life, his attempts at familiarity it was a warning I couldn’t ignore. Something in him reeked of secrets.
Their mission is simple and dangerous: keep Damian from ever discovering the truth about his father’s death.
Joe sits across from me now, pretending to be just another coworker. You want to know how I figured him out? It wasn’t difficult. Weeks spent under Damian’s shadow sharpened my instincts. I’ve been working tirelessly at his side, hoping he’ll help me wipe out my brothers, hoping he’ll expose every sin they committed against me. And maybe just maybe he’ll give me one last chance to see Isa.
My Isa. My friend. The girl who once laughed at everything, who used to link her arm with mine as if nothing in the world could break us she’s gone. What’s left is a shell. Shattered. Shackled. When I look at her now, it feels like I’m staring through prison bars into a cage built around her soul.
But I’ve done my part. I whispered doubts into her heart, planted a seed of rebellion. She’ll call Matteo soon. Do I trust him? No. Matteo’s danger is colder, sharper, the kind of danger that cuts clean where Damian crushes. But if it gets her out of Damian’s grip, I’ll take the gamble. And when she’s free of him, I’ll find a way to free her from Matteo too.
The thought both comforts and haunts me. I’m so lost in it that I don’t hear the footsteps until Joe’s voice breaks through my haze.
“What are you thinking?” His tone is casual, almost playful, but it makes my skin crawl. He leans against the edge of my desk, tapping his fingers like he owns the place. “I’ve been standing here for five minutes. You didn’t even notice. It’s lunchtime. Come on, let’s eat.”
I lift my eyes to him, and the smile plastered across his face feels rehearsed, practiced. Too smooth. He’s been watching me I can feel it in the way his gaze lingers, the way he tries too hard to seem harmless. Every word he offers is bait, a hook waiting for me to bite.
I force my lips into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I still have work to finish. I’ll join you soon.”
His eyes flick to my screen. “You’re always glued to that system,” he says, leaning closer, craning his neck as though he has any right. “What are you working on? Maybe I can help. Colleagues should look out for each other, right?”
The moment his hand drifts toward my desk, something inside me snaps. My fingers clamp around his wrist before he can touch a single key.
“Don’t.” My voice drops, low and sharp, like steel against his skin.
His smile falters, just for a second, and his eyes widen in surprise. But then he recovers, lips twitching into another strained curve. “I just want to be friends with you. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
I hold his gaze, letting every ounce of my disdain bleed into the silence. My eyes tell him what my words don’t: he’s already a dead man walking.
He laughs nervously, stepping back too quickly, as if the space between us suddenly matters. His retreat is clumsy, his footsteps uneven.
Big fool. He doesn’t even realize his days are numbered.
When he disappears down the hallway, I reach for my phone. My fingers tremble not from fear, but from the surge of anticipation. Damian answers on the first ring, his voice cold and sharp.
“I found them,” I say, wasting no time. “Joe and William.”
“Keep an eye on them,” he orders without hesitation. “My men are coming to take them.”
And just like that, he hangs up. No questions. No chance for me to add more.
I stare at the black screen, the silence pressing heavy against my ears. Typical Damian. Always in control. Always deciding when the conversation ends.