Chapter 85 Luca's Villa
Chapter 85 Luca's Villa
The drive back from Dante’s villa was quiet. Sienna sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring out at the glittering curve of the coast. Monaco’s lights shimmered on the sea brightly, alive, and almost mocking. It looked like a city built for people who never had to beg to be believed.
Her hands rested motionlessly on her lap, but her thoughts were spinning, colliding into pieces of heartbreak and humiliation that refused to settle. Dante’s cold eyes, Isabelle’s smirk. The sound of her own voice breaking when she tried to defend herself.
Every word replayed in her mind until she wanted to scream.
Luca’s hands were steady on the steering wheel, his face unreadable. He hadn’t said a word since they left the villa, and she was grateful for it. Talking would’ve only made the pain feel more real.
When the car turned off the main road, she finally glanced at him. “Where are we going?” Her voice was small, raw.
He didn’t look at her. “My apartment. You need a place to rest.”
“I don’t want to rest.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through enough for one night.”
Sienna pressed her lips together, too tired to argue. Maybe silence was safer than saying how empty she felt inside.
Luca’s apartment sat on a hill above the harbor sleek but quiet, built of glass and stone, the kind of place that felt less like a home and more like a retreat from the world. The city spread out below them, all glitter and movement, but up here, it was still and almost safe.
He opened the door and stepped aside. “Come in.”
Sienna hesitated in the doorway before stepping inside. The air smelled faintly of cedar and coffee. There were no framed photos, no trace of family. Just clean lines, books scattered across a table, and the faint hum of distant traffic through the glass walls.
“Sit down,” Luca said softly, setting his jacket on the arm of a chair. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
She sank into the couch, the weight of exhaustion pressing into her bones.When he handed her a glass of water, her fingers trembled slightly.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He nodded and sat across from her. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Luca leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor.
Then Luca broke the silence. “For what it’s worth, I never agreed with what she did.”
Sienna looked up sharply. “You mean Isabelle?”
He nodded. “Her, my mother and my father too.” He exhaled slowly, as if the words carried weight. “I’ve spent half my life trying to clean up their mistakes. The other half is trying to stop Dante from following them.”
She studied him quietly, unsure what to say.
“I used to think I could keep peace between us,” he went on. “But it doesn’t work when both sides are addicted to chaos.”
Sienna folded her arms around herself. “You still tried.”
“Because he’s my brother,” Luca said simply. “Even when he makes it impossible.”
His voice softened, the bitterness fading into something closer to grief. “I’ve tried to stay close to him, but he keeps pushing me away. Always has. It’s like he thinks love is a weakness, something that can be used against him.”
She looked at him, her eyes heavy with understanding. “Maybe he’s just scared.”
He met her gaze. “Scared of what?”
“Of feeling something real,” she said. “Because when you’ve lost enough, it’s easier to believe people are replaceable.”
Luca’s expression shifted something between agreement and sadness. “Maybe that’s why he clings to Isabelle. She’s convenient and predictable.”
Sienna almost laughed. “Convenient? That woman is poisonous.”
“I know.” His tone darkened. “But he doesn’t. Or maybe he does and he’s too tired to care.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time. The kind that stretched between two people who understood pain in the same language.
““I knew Isabelle was capable of it,” he said. “But not that she’d go that far. I’ve tried to keep my distance from her schemes, but Isabelle doesn’t stop until she gets what she wants. She thinks manipulation is a form of love.”
“That sounds like your father,” Sienna said bitterly.
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “You’re not wrong.”
Silence lingered between them. Sienna took a slow breath. “You said you never supported them. But you still work with Dante.”
“I do,” he said simply. “Because he’s my brother. I’ve been trying to keep him from falling too deep into their world. But lately.” He sighed. “He won’t listen. He thinks I’m jealous or trying to control him.”
“Maybe he’s just hurt,” she said softly. “People who’ve been hurt stop listening. They think everyone’s lying.”
Luca looked at her then, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “How did you know that?”
The truth in those two words hit her harder than she expected. Sienna dropped her gaze, tracing the rim of the glass with her thumb. “When you lose everything you’ve worked for like your career, your reputation, the person you love, you start to believe that pain is the only thing that’s honest.”
Luca leaned back, watching her. “You still love him, don’t you?”
She gave a small, weary smile. “I don’t know what I feel anymore. Maybe love isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s just unfinished grief.”
He nodded slowly, as if he understood. “I know that feeling.”
Minutes passed before Sienna spoke again. “Luca, that night of the accident. Why were you there?”
His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I heard rumors,” she said carefully. “People said you showed up after it happened.”
He looked confused, cautious. “I don’t know what accident you’re talking about.”
Sienna froze, realizing her mistake.
“You don’t know,” she whispered. “Of course you don’t.”
“Know what?” His voice softened, but there was an edge of concern now. “Sienna, what happened?”
“The night of Dante's accident,” she said quietly.
Luca froze.
His eyes flickered not with guilt, but with something more fragile, memory.
“Yes,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “I was there.”
She straightened. “Why? What were you doing there?”
He looked down at his hands. “I came to save my brother.”
Sienna frowned. “Save him?”
He nodded. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I got a call late at night. Something about a plot to kill Dante. By the time I reached the stadium, my brother was already in the car.” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I was too late.”
Sienna stared at him, her chest tightening. “You mean you heard about it before it happened ?”
“Yes,” Luca said quietly. “I called him and he wasn't picking up. I think someone tampered with the brakes, the accident was meant to kill him. Luckily he survived.
Her breath hitched. “Really? Who would do such a thing? Did Dante offend anyone?”
The room suddenly felt colder. She gripped the edge of the couch, the world tilting around her.
“I don't know,” he whispered. “Dante doesn't confide in me.” He paused.
“I knew pieces,” he admitted. “Not the whole picture. Every time I tried to dig deeper, my father shut me down. He said I should let it be and focus on my brother's recovery. So I stopped, but after Clara’s death, I started asking again.”
Sienna’s heart skipped. “You knew Clara?”
He hesitated. “Not personally. I heard about her from an old contact in London. They said she was looking into the accident and she's a private detective.”
After a moment, Luca cleared his throat softly. “There’s something I don’t understand,” he said. “Dante and Isabelle, their relationship. It’s strange. They used to hate each other. Always at each other’s throats. Then suddenly, they’re inseparable.”
“Isabelle knows how to twist people,” Sienna said. “She studies their weakness and feeds on it.”
“Maybe,” Luca said quietly. “But I think it’s more than that. I think someone wanted them together.”
Sienna frowned. “Why would anyone want that?”
He hesitated, as if weighing whether to tell her something. “Because together, they’re controllable. Dante thinks he’s found loyalty again, and Isabelle gets what she wants, power. Everyone wins. Except you.”
The words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they were true. Sienna looked away, her jaw tightening. “They can have their power. I just want the truth.”
“And if it costs you everything?” he asked.
She turned back to him, her eyes steady. “Then I’ll pay.”
Luca watched her for a long moment, then nodded. “You’ve changed, Sienna.”
“So have you.”
He gave a faint smile. “Maybe that’s what surviving does.”
The clock ticked softly on the wall, marking the silence between them. For a brief, fragile moment, Sienna felt safe. Not healed, not fixed but seen.
Then Luca’s tone shifted, cautious again.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to ask.”
Sienna looked up. “What is it?”
“Your friend, Clara.”
Her heart lurched. “Clara?”
He nodded. “I came across her name a few weeks ago. I didn’t know she was connected to you at first. But someone mentioned she was part of your old team at the hospital.”
Sienna’s throat went dry. “She was more than that. She was my best friend.”
Luca’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“No,” Sienna said quickly. “It’s okay. I just haven't heard her name in a while.” She swallowed hard. “She died two days ago.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you know what happened?”
“They said it was an accident,” she lied. “But I’ve stopped believing in those.”
Luca didn’t push further. He could see she was unraveling, and yet something in her face, a spark, a defiance that told him she wasn’t done fighting.
Then her phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the quiet like a blade. Sienna reached for it, her pulse quickening. A text from an unknown number.
She unlocked it.
“Why did you go to Monaco without coming to find out what really happened to your father and brother?”
Her fingers went cold.