Chapter 50

Vivienne’s POV

The bed creaked when I shifted, Sleep had not come easy since the siege—not real sleep, not the kind that repaired you.

At most, I drifted, pulled under by exhaustion only to be snapped awake by the echo of gunfire in my head. Two days had passed since the Riveras turned our fortress into a slaughterhouse, but I could smell the smoke even here, in this second house Lucian had dragged us to—Via Montelupo, it was a mansion smaller, more tucked away, andbuilt against the woods like a secret.

It was safer, he said. Secluded. Defensible. To me it felt more like a mausoleum, .

The silence of Via Montelupo house was a cruel contrast. It pressed against my ears, too still, too waiting. I hated it. The house smelled faintly of cedar and polish, but under it I swore I caught the scent of blood, as if death had followed us here too.

I was just slipping toward that edge of restless sleep when the knock came.

Three taps.

My eyes snapped open, the sleep burning away in an instant. The gun Lucian had returned to me after the siege lay on the nightstand. My hand hovered, then stopped

“Come in,” I called, my voice was hoarse

The door opened, and there she was.

Marisol.

She stood in the dim light of the corridor, no longer the fragile, trembling girl who had nearly collapsed beside Leo two nights ago. She looked recovered—or as close as anyone could be after such trouble.

Her hair was bound tight, her shoulders squared, her nightdress replaced by dark clothes that hugged her frame. But it was her face that struck me most.

Her gaze locked with mine.“I found her.”

The words sliced through me.

I bolted upright, sleep forgotten. My lips parted. “Elena?”

She nodded once. “Yes.”

Air fled my lungs. My fingers clenched the blanket as though the fabric could anchor me. Elena. The ghost of the Demarco line. Lucian’s mother,

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Tell me.”

Marisol stepped inside, shutting the door behind her She moved closer, lowering her voice.

“She’s alive. Hidden. Guarded more tightly than anything I’ve ever seen. It took weeks of following whispers, bribing, pressing, listening where no one wanted to speak. But I traced the threads, one by one. And every path led to the same place.”

I leaned forward. “Where?”

“A hospital,” she said. “But not one you’d find on any public record. It’s owned by Lucian himself, buried beneath false names and shell companies. Almost in the middle of nowhere. Remote. Private. The kind of place no one stumbles upon.”

My heart thundered. “He’s keeping her there.”

Marisol’s eyes didn’t waver. “Yes. Fiercely. I’ve never seen security like it. Cameras, patrols, layers upon layers of protection. He has her locked away like a secret he would burn the world to protect.”

A chill rippled through me. The pieces fell together—the cruelty of Enzo, the stories of Elena’s madness, the night she nearly ended her life on that balcony. And then silence. Erasure. A woman turned into a ghost while her son grew beneath the iron hand of a monster.

“Elena,” I whispered, the name tasting like forbidden truth.

Marisol studied me. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted details now, but…” She hesitated only a fraction, then added, “Boss, you should know—I almost didn’t come to you. Not after what we just went through. Not when the Riveras could strike again any day. It’s dangerous to even think about stepping out. And Lucian—” She paused, her “If he finds out, he won’t let you near her.”

I rose to my feet My hands trembled, but not from fear. From certainty.

“I have to.”

Marisol frowned. “Vivienne—”

“I have to,” I said again, firmer now. I met her eyes“Elena is the key. Don’t you see? Everything that makes Lucian what he is—the rage, the darkness, the way he binds himself in control as if he’ll tear the world apart otherwise—it all comes back to her.

To what Enzo did. To the wound she carries, and the wound she left in him. If I want to unravel Lucian, to understand him, to know how to survive him… I need her.”

Silence stretched between us.

Marisol’s gaze softened, just slightly. She exhaled. “You sound like you’ve already decided.”

“I have.”

She studied me a moment longer, then gave the faintest nod. “Then I’ll arrange a car.”

Relief moved through me, chased immediately by dread. “You’ll cover for me?”

Her lips curved—not a smile, not quite. “I’ll cover for you. Lucian doesn’t need to know. Not yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Not yet.

I stepped closer to her, lowering my voice until it was nearly a whisper. “How did you find her, Marisol? After all these years—how did you break through what Lucian built?”

Her eyes darkened with memory. “Patience. Money. And the right pressure on the right throats. People are loyal until they’re afraid. Or until they want more than what loyalty buys. Every man guarding that secret thought he was untouchable. They weren’t. One by one, I peeled the layers back until the truth showed itself.”

I swallowed “And she’s there now? Still alive?”

“Yes. Alive. Hidden.”

I pressed a hand to my lips, closing my eyes. The image of a woman—pale, broken, but breathing—burned in my mind. Not dead. Not gone. Erased, yes, but still existing in the shadows Lucian built around her.

When I opened my eyes again, Marisol was still watching me.

“Boss,” she said quietly, “if you go to her, there’s no going back. Lucian will know eventually. He always knows. And when he finds out…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

I squared my shoulders. “Then let him. If Elena is the truth that explains him, then I’ll face whatever comes with it. But I have to see her with my own eyes. I have to know.”

Marisol nodded slowly. “Then I’ll see to it. By tomorrow night, a car will be ready. Quiet. Unnoticed. I’ll clear the path.”

Something inside me finally released. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thank you.”

She inclined her head. “Get some rest

while you can. You’ll need it.”

And then she turned, silent as shadow, and slipped out the door.