Chapter 79 CHAPTER 079

Chapter 79 CHAPTER 079
Camilla’s words made Anna freeze at the top of the stairs. 

She slowly turned, her eyes drifting downward, while passing maids halted mid-step, their gazes drawn to the tense scene below.

Vincenzo’s jaw tightened. He spun toward Camilla, closing the distance between them in swift strides.

“V—answer me,” Camilla said. “Don’t tell me it’s tru—”

Vincenzo’s hand shot out, gripping her chin, fingers digging into soft flesh as the words died in her throat. 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Vincenzo snarled, his gaze drilling into Camilla like he wanted to pierce her soul. “I’m done tolerating your bullshit.” His voice dropped low, a controlled roar that echoed off the high ceiling. “Anna is not a maid. And whether I fuck her or not is none of your fucking business.”

Camilla stared at him, panting, eyes wide with fear and fury. 

She had so much to say, but dared not speak, not wanting to anger him any further.

“This is your last warning, Camilla,” Vincenzo said, each word striking like a hammer. “I won’t warn you again.”

He yanked his hand away from her chin. 

Camilla yelped, stumbling back, one hand flying up to cradle the red marks Vincenzo’s fingers had left. 

Vincenzo turned and walked away without so much as a glance at her. 

The maids who had halted to watch scattered quietly, not daring to draw Vincenzo’s attention.

As he made his way toward his office, his eyes flicked up the staircase, briefly catching Anna’s gaze. 

She froze for a heartbeat before quickly looking away, her face flushed and hands tightening on her suitcase.

Vincenzo continued toward his office, and after a frozen moment, Anna grasped her suitcase and hurried to her room.



~A WEEK LATER~

The sun was just setting as Anna sat in the back of the black sedan, heading toward the private airfield. 

The past week had flown by in a haze. 

She’d spent most of her days locked in her room, and since Vincenzo’s warning to Camilla, the two of them hadn’t crossed paths. 

She was quietly glad for that.

“Are you scared?” Vincenzo’s voice made her turn, her eyes locking with his.

“No, I’m not,” she said after a pause.

“Not scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Then why are your fingers shaking, and why are you rubbing the back of your hand like that?”

Anna looked down at her hands. 

Her fingers were trembling as her right thumb traced small, frantic circles over her left palm. 

“Oh,” she breathed. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” 

She pulled her hands apart, clenching them into fists in her lap, trying to steady herself.

“You don’t need to be scared. Italy is a nice place,” Vincenzo said smoothly.

“I… I guess so,” she whispered, her fingers still trembling in her lap.

“Is your hand completely healed now?” Vincenzo asked.

Anna knew immediately he was talking about her left hand, the one that had been burned a few weeks ago.

“Oh. Yeah,” she said after a brief pause.

She had removed the bandage from her left hand days ago. 

The burn had healed, leaving only a faint, pale pink patches against her skin.

“Let me see it,” Vincenzo said.

Before Anna could respond, he reached for her left hand and closed his fingers around it. 

He turned her hand over, exposing the back, his grip firm and warm as he examined it.

Anna watched him in silence, acutely aware of the rough calluses along his fingers as they brushed her skin.

“The marks are barely there,” Vincenzo said, his thumb brushing over the faint patches. A shiver ran up Anna’s arm at his touch. “They should fade completely soon.”

“I… I hope so,” she whispered.

Vincenzo held Anna’s hand for a moment longer before letting go.

And just like that, silence settled between them. 

They both sat in the sedan, saying nothing, the ride stretching on with only the hum of the engine to fill the space.

Soon, they arrived at the airfield. 

Stepping out of the car, the cold wind hit Anna’s face. 

Before her stood a massive, sleek white private jet, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. 

She had never seen one up close, and for a moment, she simply stood there, awed by its presence.

Vincenzo glanced at her, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips as he took in her reaction.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the steps.

Anna followed obediently behind him as they climbed the stairs into the private jet. 

A few guards trailed behind, carrying their luggage.

Once inside, they sank into the plush, cream-colored seats. 

The engines hummed, the cabin vibrating softly as the jet taxied and lifted into the sky.

Anna pressed her face to the window, watching the city lights shrink into a glittering map before disappearing beneath a veil of clouds. 

It was breathtaking. 

Never in her life had she imagined flying to Italy on a private jet with a Mafia Don. 

This was no dream she’d ever wished for—no fantasy of hers. 

Yet here she was, swept into a fate she had neither chosen nor wanted, a fate wrapped in terrifying, gilded luxury.

Roughly eight hours later, the jet finally landed, and Italy stretched out before them.

When they descended the steps, a convoy of black sedans was already waiting, engines humming softly. 

Vincenzo led the way, Anna close behind, followed by the guards who had accompanied them. 

They settled into the middle cars, the ride beginning quietly and faster than Anna had expected.

Outside the window, Italy unfolded like a living painting. 

Ancient stone buildings jutted up between vibrant greenery, terracotta rooftops catching the last light of day. 

The countryside blurred past, so different from the crowded streets and glass towers of the city she knew.

After a short while, the convoy reached a massive estate.

A mansion loomed ahead, its size dwarfing even Vincenzo’s, with sprawling wings, grand facades, and perfectly manicured gardens. 

They passed through towering, wrought-iron gates, the doors creaking open to reveal a long, tree-lined driveway. 

The middle car, which Anna and Vincenzo occupied, rolled to a stop at the front entrance, the grandeur of the estate leaving Anna momentarily speechless.

The guards stationed on the mansion grounds opened the sedan door. 

Vincenzo and Anna stepped out, flanked by the guards, who maintained a respectful distance.

At the top of the broad stone steps of the front entrance stood an old man in a wheelchair, accompanied by three women of varying ages, each strikingly beautiful and impeccably dressed. 

Bright, expectant smiles lit their faces.

Anna’s mind raced as she stared at them. 

She knew the old man was clearly Vincenzo’s father, and the women, given how young they looked, must be his sisters.

And yet… they looked so ordinary, not at all like the monstrous, terrifying crime family she had imagined.

Suddenly, Vincenzo’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her close against his side. She flinched and glanced up at him.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin.

“Play along,” he murmured.

Straightening, a wide, almost affectionate smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 

He guided Anna carefully toward the stone steps.

“Welcome home, my son!” Vincenzo’s father called as Anna and Vincenzo drew closer to him, his voice raspy yet strong. “I’m so glad you came with your wife!” His sharp, dark eyes, so much like Vincenzo’s, settled on Anna.

Vincenzo’s grip on Anna’s waist tightened. 

“She insisted on seeing you all,” he said, his voice booming with forced cheer.

He glanced down at Anna, the wide smile on his lips unwavering as his gaze held hers. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?”