Chapter 83 The Final Play

Chapter 83 The Final Play
The clock on the wall ticked one in the morning. Lorenzo sat at his home office desk, the only light coming from a small lamp and his laptop. He looked focused on the screen; the merger contract was open as he worked on it, word by word.
"This has to be perfect," he whispered to the quiet room.
He removed the obvious transfers. He hid the offshore accounts deep inside legal talk. He made sure the financial details looked like a standard deal between two powerful families. He knew Luca was smart, and he also knew Luca was looking for a trap. So, Lorenzo made the trap invisible.
By four in the morning, he finished. He scrolled through the pages one last time. It looked clean, like a fair deal that would make the Damiano family richer than ever. But once the ink was dry, every cent would belong to him and Bianca.
He leaned back and let out a breath. A small, cold smile touched his lips.
"One more day," he muttered. "One more signature, and we are gone."
The next morning, Lorenzo met Bianca in a private room in one of the fancy hotels in town. He checked the hallway before closing the door.

"Is it done?" Bianca asked him, standing by the window, her hands gripping her shawl.
"It’s perfect," Lorenzo replied her, walking over to her and taking her hands. "I’ve redrafted everything. Salvatore will sign it because he trusts me. Luca will sign it because it looks too good to refuse. We present it tomorrow."
Bianca’s eyes brightened. "And then?"
"And then we move," he said firmly. "The moment the papers are signed, the funds start moving. I’ve already set up the accounts in Switzerland. We won't wait for the closing period; we will leave the country."
Bianca gasped. "So soon?"
"We have to. Dorian is losing his patience, and I can feel Luca watching me. Get your passport ready, Bianca. Start packing your things, but do it slowly. Don’t let the maids see anything. We’ll fly out, change our names, and live in peace. Just you, me, and the baby."
Bianca threw her arms around his neck. "I’ve waited so long for this, Lorenzo. To stop lying. To stop pretending I love that man."
Lorenzo kissed her forehead. "No more lies. Just a few more days."
Just outside the door, Luca stood perfectly still. His back was pressed against the cold wall as he held his breath, his heart thundering against his ribs.

He had been following her since his discussion with Valeria, and he heard everything they planned. The revised contract. The offshore accounts. Switzerland.
His blood turned to fire. He wanted to kick the door open and wrap his hands around Lorenzo’s throat. But he didn't move.
Not yet, he told himself. If I catch them now, they’ll just lie. 
He waited until he heard their footsteps move away from the door. He stayed in the shadows for five long minutes. Then, he slipped down the back stairs and ran to his car.
He drove like a madman to the Airbnb. When he burst through the door, Valeria was already waiting.

"They’re moving soon," Luca said, gasping for air. "He redrafted the contract. They’re planning to drain the accounts and fly to Switzerland the moment the ink is dry."
Valeria’s face went pale. "We’re running out of time, Luca. We have to stop him."
"I’m going to catch him red-handed," Luca said. "When he brings those papers to my father, I’ll be there with the proof you gave me. He won’t be able to talk his way out of it."
"Wait," Valeria said, grabbing his arm. "We can't just think about the money. Alexander is still missing. If we move against Lorenzo now, he might kill Alex to hide the truth. Or he might hurt Isabella."
Luca paused. He looked at the floor, his jaw tight. "You’re right. I haven't seen Isabella in a week. Lorenzo says she’s 'resting,' but I know he’s lying. She’s a prisoner in that house."
Valeria looked at him seriously. "We need help, Luca. We can't do this alone. We need my brother."
Luca shook his head. "Vincent Harrington? He’s a criminal, Valeria. If we bring him in, this becomes a war."
"It is already a war!" Valeria shouted. "Vincent has the men. He has the resources to find that warehouse. Without him, Alexander dies. Is that what you want?"
Luca looked at her for a long time, seeing the fear in her eyes. He sighed and nodded. "Fine. Call him."

Back at the Grusso estate, Isabella was on her knees in front of the bedroom door. Her fingers were raw. The small metal ear pin was bent and scratched, but she didn't stop.
"Please," she whispered. "Just one more. Just one more click."
She thought about Alexander. She thought about the way he had saved her so many times. He had taken bullets and beatings for her. It was her turn now.
She pushed the pin deep into the lock and twisted her wrist.
Click.
The sound was small, but to Isabella, it was as loud as a cannon. She froze, waiting for the sound of footsteps, but there was none.
She slowly turned the handle. The door creaked open an inch as she peered out. The hallway was dim and empty. She stepped out, her bare feet making no sound on the cold tiles.
She knew the house well, so she avoided the main stairs where the guards usually stood. She moved quietly through the servant’s passage, reaching the back door—the one the cooks used. It was heavy, but it wasn't locked.
She pushed it open and felt the cool night air hit her face. She didn't look back. She ran.
She ran through the gardens, climbing over the low stone wall at the back of the property. Her dress caught on the briars, tearing the hem, but she didn't care. She reached the main road, her lungs burning.
The road was dark and silent. She had no shoes, no money, and no phone. She stood in the middle of the asphalt, shivering.
"Help," she whispered. "Someone, please."
Far off in the distance, two yellow lights appeared. A car was coming. Isabella didn't hide. She stepped directly into the path of the vehicle and waved her arms frantically.
The car braked hard, the tires screeching on the road. It stopped just a few feet from her. A middle-aged man in a flannel shirt leaned out the window.
"Are you crazy, girl? I almost hit you!"
Then he saw her: the dark bruises on her face, her torn dress, and her bare, bleeding feet. His anger turned to shock. "Lord... what happened to you?"
"Please," Isabella sobbed, clutching the side of the car. "I was held prisoner. I need to make a call. It’s a matter of life and death. Please let me use your phone."
The man looked suspicious for a second, but then he saw the real terror in her eyes. He reached into his pocket and handed her a smartphone. "Here. Take it. Do you need a doctor?"
"Later," Isabella responded, her hands shaking.
She dialed Luca’s number, holding the phone to her ear. It rang once. Twice. Three times.
"Pick up, Luca," she prayed, tears rolling down her face. "Please, pick up the phone."
On the fourth ring, a voice answered. "Hello?"
"Luca!" Isabella screamed. "Luca, it’s me! Don't hang up!"