Chapter 11 The Things left Behind
••Luciana••
The villa halls felt colder after dinner. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, heavy and piercing, like metal scraping against stone.
I had shared everything with him: how the first note had surfaced in my coat pocket, and how tonight brought the second message. I explained my intention to meet the sender and the involvement of Matteo and Antonio.
His response was immediate and firm.
“You should have informed me the moment this started,” he declared. “You are the princess, Luciana. You do not chase shadows alone.”
There was no trace of gentleness in his voice, only a commanding presence. He continued, “I’ll take care of it. You need not worry anymore.”
Though his words were intended to comfort me, they only tightened the anxiety coiling in my stomach. In this house, "taking care of it" could mean anything—from interrogation to vanishing without a trace.
Now, in my room, I heard the door click shut as Matteo and Antonio entered. They stood before me, with Antonio leaning against my shelf while I sat at the edge of my bed. The atmosphere buzzed with the weight of unspoken worry.
Matteo broke the silence first. “The question is simple. How did the Don get the note? It was in your drawer.”
Antonio folded his arms, a serious look on his face. “Someone intruded her space, someone with access.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Are we talking about a traitor in our midst?”
Antonio shook his head. “Not merely a traitor. This is someone bold enough, who knows father will punish this.”
Matteo’s voice dropped. “Could be a guard, could be staff, or could even be someone close enough to move freely.”
I buried my face in my hands, "If they can enter my room, they can do more than leave messages.”
Antonio crouched in front of me. “We’re not letting anything happen to you. Tomorrow, we’ll sweep your room, your hallway, and your wing. We’ll check the cameras.”
Matteo nodded. “And we track all staff assignments from the last week.”
“Father said he’ll handle it,” I murmured.
Matteo exhaled. “You know what that means.”
Yes, I knew.
If he found the culprit first, the person wouldn’t live to explain their intention. Whether they were warning me, threatening me, or something in between—it wouldn’t matter.
I brushed my hand across my face, feeling the weight of the situation. “Let’s stay vigilant; nobody moves alone. Keep me posted on any updates.”
Antonio gave a small smirk. “Absolutely.”
Just before they headed out, Matteo turned back to me, giving one last piece of advice.
“Make sure you lock your door tonight.”
“I always do,” I replied.
He nodded firmly and shut the door behind him.
The ensuing silence didn’t bring comfort; instead, it felt as if someone was eavesdropping.
\---
••Roman••
It was late at night, and Theo and I were the only ones left in the east wing of the estate. Most of the lights were off, leaving long shadows stretching across the hall as we walked. Theo was carrying a flashlight and a small box of keycards.
“Your father said this entire wing needs to be cleared before tomorrow,” Theo said. “They’re beginning the renovation at dawn.”
I gave a short grunt of acknowledgment. “Whatever he wants.”
The corridor led to the room that once belonged to Adrian. My Father insisted everything be removed quickly, “to avoid sentiment interfering with duty.”
Theo unlocked the door, and the faint scent of Adrian’s cologne hit me immediately —sharp, woodsy, and painfully familiar.
I stepped inside. The walls were bare, the shelves half empty, and boxes stacked near the bed.
Theo whispered, “You sure you want to do this yourself? The cleaners can—”
“No.” I replied, “I’ll do it.”
He stayed near the doorway while I moved around the room, touching items out of habit more than sentiment. Adrian’s things had never mattered much to me until they were the last things left.
I rummaged through the desk drawers—completely bare.
Checked the side cabinet—nothing inside.
Another drawer—totally cleared out.
Each object I touched sparked a flood of memories:
Adrian’s laughter… him training beside me… his sudden outbursts… his vanishing beneath the earth.
I pulled open one drawer from the desk—empty. The next one yielded the same result. Moving on to the wardrobe, I crouched down to inspect the bottom shelf; it was filled only with clothes and dust.
I let out a slow breath, running my fingers through my hair. “Father always said Adrian left behind nothing—no clues, no letters, nothing at all.”
Theo spoke softly, “Don Lorenzo has been particularly selective about what he shares."
I felt a jolt of tension. That nagging suspicion had been eating away at me for days. My father’s secretive late-night meetings, his hushed commands, and his insistence that I "concentrate on the wedding and the future."
The future.
With Luciana Moretti. A woman who hardly glanced my way unless absolutely necessary.
Then, I opened the top shelf of the wardrobe. A scraping sound made me stop in my tracks. There, a thin panel at the back of the shelf seemed slightly out of place, as if it had been forced in.
Theo moved in closer. “Boss?”
I pressed against the panel, and it popped loose. In the darkened space behind it, I discovered a small leather notebook, covered in dust and mold. My heart raced as I slowly pulled it out.
The initials embossed on the cover were unmistakable.
A.O.
Adrian Orlov.
A frown crossed my face. Adrian wasn’t one for reading; he preferred to collect fine wines, while books were never really his thing. I took it out, the cool leather sending a shiver through my palm. Theo straightened at the sight of my expression.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied.
But deep down, something in my chest clenched—a feeling I despised. "Was it recognition or a warning? I couldn’t quite tell.
As I turned to the first page, a sudden stillness enveloped me.
It wasn’t dramatic. No gasp. No curse.
Just a sharp, cold shift inside me, like someone had flipped a switch I didn’t know existed.
“Roman?” Theo stepped closer. “What’s in it?”
I closed the book slowly, my fingers pressing into the cover.
“Nothing,” I replied, though it felt like I was disguising a truth.
Theo didn’t press further; he knew me well enough. I tucked the book into my coat.
“We’re keeping this from my father,” I murmured.
Theo gave a slight nod. “Understood.”
As I stepped out of the room, I felt certain whatever Andrian had written held answers to unspoken questions, and I'm about to find out.