Chapter 95

Chapter 95
Damian’s POV
The family meeting had run longer than expected. Three hours of careful negotiations with the Sicilian faction over territory disputes and shipping routes. But even as I'd discussed percentage splits and distribution networks, part of my attention had remained fixed on a single nagging concern.
Aria was alone at the Montrosso estate tonight. In enemy territory, surrounded by people who might not have her best interests at heart.
When my phone buzzed with a call from Jennifer, I knew immediately that something had gone wrong.
"She's back, Mr. Cavalieri," Jennifer's voice carried that careful tone she used when delivering unwelcome news. "Miss Aria returned from the Montrosso estate about an hour ago. She... she's not herself, sir."
I was already reaching for my car keys. "Meaning?"
"She won't speak about what happened. Won't eat. She went straight to the sitting room and just... collapsed. She's been crying, but she won't tell me why." Jennifer paused, and I could hear the maternal worry in her voice. "Whatever happened over there, it broke something in her."
The drive back to the estate felt interminable. Florence's evening traffic moved like molasses, every red light an eternity. By the time I finally pulled through the gates, my jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.
I found her exactly as Jennifer had described—curled up on the leather sofa in the main sitting room, her elegant dress from dinner wrinkled and stained with tears. She'd fallen asleep where she'd collapsed, one hand still clutching her purse with white-knuckled intensity.
Even in sleep, she looked fragile. Breakable.
Mine to protect, and I'd failed her.
The possessive thought struck with unexpected force, cutting through the careful emotional barriers I'd constructed around our arrangement. This wasn't supposed to matter to me beyond the practical implications. She was a contract, a means to an end, a temporary asset that would eventually outlive its usefulness.
But looking at her now, seeing the tear tracks on her cheeks and the vulnerable curve of her sleeping form, I felt something darker and more complex twist in my chest. Something that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way she'd unconsciously curled into my warmth when I'd lifted her.
I carried her upstairs to the master suite, moving carefully to avoid waking her. She was lighter than I'd expected, delicate in a way that made me hyperaware of my own strength. When I settled her onto the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, she made a soft sound of contentment that hit me like a physical blow.
Tomorrow, I'll fix whatever went wrong tonight, I promised silently. Whatever they did to her, there will be consequences.
But first, I needed information.
I retreated to my study and closed the door, then pulled out my secure phone. Lorenzo answered on the first ring.
"Lorenzo," I said without preamble, "I need a complete investigation. Twenty-four hours maximum."
"What kind of investigation?"
"Tonight at the Montrosso estate, someone orchestrated a setup against Aria. I want to know everything—who was involved, how it was planned, and what evidence exists." My voice carried the cold edge that my subordinates had learned to recognize as absolute authority. "Start with the servant who claimed to witness suspicious behavior. Maria, I think her name was."
"The girl who works in their kitchen?" Lorenzo's tone sharpened with interest. "Interesting choice for a witness. She's new to the staff, only been there about six weeks."
Six weeks. Right around the time Antonio had announced his intention to adopt Aria. The timing was too convenient to be coincidental.
"Find out who recommended her for the position. Check her background, her financial situation, anyone who might have reason to pay her for false testimony." I moved to the window, looking out at the darkened grounds while my mind processed possibilities. "Also investigate the logistics of how the ring disappeared and reappeared. Security camera footage, staff schedules, anyone who had access to both Adriana's belongings and Aria's purse."
"You think this was an inside job?"
"I think someone wanted Aria discredited and removed from the Montrosso family before the adoption could be finalized." The pieces were already forming patterns in my mind, conspiracy theories that made my blood run cold. "The question is whether this was Adriana acting alone or something more organized."
"And if it turns out to be more than just a spoiled princess throwing a tantrum?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy with implications. If someone else was pulling strings, if there was a larger conspiracy against Aria, then I'd been focusing on the wrong threats entirely.
"Then we escalate our response accordingly," I said quietly. "No one touches what's mine, Lorenzo. No one."
After ending the call, I remained at the window, staring out at the night sky while uncomfortable thoughts circled through my mind. The methods I'd used to keep Aria under my control—the manipulation, the isolation, the carefully orchestrated dependence—suddenly felt less like protection and more like something far uglier.
I'd told myself it was necessary. That she was too naive, too trusting, too vulnerable to survive in my world without strict supervision. That the contract gave me the right to dictate her living arrangements, her medical care, her very existence.
But tonight had proven that my control was an illusion. I couldn't protect her from threats I didn't see coming, couldn't shield her from damage that happened outside my direct sphere of influence. All my careful plans and calculated restrictions meant nothing when someone else was playing a different game entirely.
Have I been the villain in her story all along?
The question was uncomfortable, unwelcome. I'd spent months convincing myself that everything I did was for her own good, that my possessiveness was a form of protection rather than selfishness. But standing here in the darkness, remembering the broken trust in her eyes when she'd spoken about the theft accusation, I found those justifications crumbling.
She'd wanted to leave from the beginning. Had asked for guest room accommodations, for privacy, for the basic dignity of maintaining some independence within our arrangement. Instead, I'd stripped away every freedom, every choice, every option for escape.
Because you knew she'd run if given the chance, my conscience whispered with brutal honesty. Because you wanted her trapped here, regardless of what she wanted.
The medical procedures. The excuse I'd used to justify sharing a bedroom, maintaining constant supervision, keeping her isolated from outside influences. Dr. Ferretti had confirmed that Aria was perfectly healthy, an ideal candidate for IVF with an excellent probability of success. There was no medical reason we couldn't have proceeded with the artificial insemination immediately.
But I'd delayed it. Made excuses about needing more comprehensive testing, better timing, optimal conditions. All while knowing that each postponement brought her closer to the point where natural conception would become the only viable option.
I'd been engineering her dependence while telling myself it was protection. Creating a cage while calling it a sanctuary.
And tonight, someone else hurt her while she was trying to build a life outside that cage.
The irony was bitter. The one time she'd found genuine acceptance, real family connection with Antonio, someone had sabotaged it. Someone had taken the trust and belonging she'd started to feel and twisted it into suspicion and betrayal.
My phone buzzed with a text message. Lorenzo, already starting his investigation: "Initial report: Maria received a significant cash payment three days before the dinner. Working on tracking the source."