Chapter 102 102
Chapter 102 102
Yuki sat on the edge of the massive four-poster bed, her mind spinning so fast she felt dizzy and nauseous. The untouched food tray sat on the small antique table nearby, the soup long gone cold and the bread stale.
She stared blankly at the ornate wallpaper across the room, trying desperately to make sense of the bombshell Stefano had dropped on her earlier.
Her parents were alive?
And they were involved in the Mafia?
The questions crashed through her head like violent waves, refusing to slow down or give her even a moment of peace.
Should I even believe him? What if he’s lying just to manipulate me into going with him willingly? What if this is all some twisted game designed to break me down completely?
She stood up on shaky, unsteady legs and walked to the heavy wooden door. Her fingers closed around the ornate handle and twisted. Locked.
Of course it was locked. She didn’t have her phone either, it must have been taken while she was unconscious from the sedative. A fresh wave of helplessness washed over her.
“But Ivy…” She whispered to herself, her voice cracking painfully.
“She called him boss. Does that mean she’s been working with Stefano this whole time? All those friendly talks, all the support she gave me… was it all fake?”
Yuki pressed her forehead against the cool wooden door, squeezing her eyes shut as hot tears burned behind her eyelids. The betrayal cut deeper than she could have imagined. Ivy had been one of the few people she trusted in this nightmare.
“Everything is so confusing right now,” she sighed, the words barely audible in the suffocating silence of the room. “And Kade… does he know that I’m here? Did Ivy tell him anything, or is he still thinking I abandoned him?”
Her thoughts drifted painfully back to their last fight outside the lecture hall. The raw hurt in his eyes when she pushed him away.
Why did I do that? she thought, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. I was only trying to protect him… but now I’m trapped here and he probably thinks I hate him. What if he never knows the truth?
She slid slowly down the door until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled tight to her chest. She had no way out. No one she could trust. No one to rely on.
Her mind kept circling obsessively back to Stefano’s chilling words.
My real parents… alive… part of the Mafia… and they gave me to him…
She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The uncertainty was tearing her apart.
“I just want to go home,” she whispered brokenly to the empty, opulent room. “Please… I just want to go home.”
\---
Downstairs in the elegant dining room, Stefano sat at the head of the long mahogany table, the large screen in front of him glowing with an active video call.
On the other side were Yuki’s biological parents — an American-Italian couple in their late forties, dressed in expensive, elegant clothing inside their luxurious villa.
Their faces showed a mixture of anxious hope and restrained emotion.
“I have her,” Stefano said calmly, leaning back in his high-backed chair with complete composure. “Your daughter is safely in my possession. We will be flying to Italy tonight.”
The mother’s face immediately lit up with a rush of shock and desperate hope. She leaned closer to the camera, her voice trembling with emotion.
“How does she look? Is she okay? When did you find her? Please, tell us everything. We’ve waited so long…”
Stefano’s expression remained cold and perfectly controlled on the outside, but darker thoughts swirled beneath the surface.
The fact they never knew I had been watching their daughter for five years. But they still believe I just found her.
“There’s no need to explain or say anything about your daughter right now,” Stefano replied smoothly, his tone polite yet detached. “Words wouldn’t do her justice anyway. You should see her for yourselves when we arrive in Italy. That will be far more meaningful.”
The father’s eyes filled with visible emotion. He placed a reassuring hand over his wife’s and spoke in rapid, grateful Italian, his voice thick with long-held gratitude.
“Grazie, Stefano. Grazie mille. Non so come ringraziarti abbastanza. You’ve done what we thought was impossible.”
Stefano nodded once and replied in fluent, natural Italian, his tone respectful but emotionally distant. “È un piacere. Ci vediamo presto.”
He ended the call with a decisive tap on the screen.
A young maid walked past the open doorway carrying a stack of fresh towels, neatly folded clothes, and a small wicker basket filled with bath products, clearly heading upstairs.
“Come back here.” Stefano called out.
The maid stopped immediately and turned around, bowing her head respectfully. “Yes, sir?”
“What are those for?” Stefano asked, his gaze sharp.
“I’m going to prepare a bath for Miss Yuki and give her a new change of clothes, sir,” she answered quietly.
Stefano stood up from his chair with fluid grace. “I’ll do it myself.”
The maid looked momentarily surprised but handed over the towels, clothes, and basket without question or hesitation.
Stefano took everything and headed upstairs, his footsteps steady and purposeful on the grand staircase.
He unlocked the door to Yuki’s room and stepped inside without knocking.
Yuki sat up quickly on the bed, her eyes wide and guarded, body tensing instantly.
She said nothing at first, watching him warily. Her gaze drifted from his face to the towels and clothes in his hands, then to the small basket of luxurious bath oils and salts.
“What are those?” She asked.
Stefano closed the heavy door behind him with a soft click and walked toward the adjoining bathroom.
“It’s everything you need for a proper bath. You haven’t showered since last night, and the bathroom is practically empty. I told the maid I would handle it personally.”
“Do what?” Yuki asked, watching his every movement with deep suspicion.
“Prepare your bath,” he answered simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She shook her head quickly, backing away slightly. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.”
Stefano ignored her protest entirely and walked into the spacious marble bathroom. He turned on the faucet, letting warm water begin to fill the large, luxurious tub.
Steam rose gently as he added several drops of scented oils from the basket, filling the air with a soothing but cloying fragrance.
He then laid out the fresh towels and neatly folded clothes on the marble counter with meticulous care.
Yuki stood at the bathroom doorway, arms wrapped protectively around herself, watching him with a mixture of fear and defiance.
When he was finished, Stefano turned to face her directly, his dark eyes intense.
“All done,” he said calmly. “Now strip.”
“What?!” Yuki clutched her chest, stepping back in shock.
“Strip,” He repeated calmly, his voice leaving no room for argument, “so you can have your bath.”
Yuki stared at him in disbelief, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Strip? In front of him?