Chapter 37 A l ittle too late
Alessandro saw the magazine before he touched it.
It lay on the long table in the war room of the safehouse, half-hidden beneath surveillance reports and satellite prints, its glossy cover catching the light like something obscene in a room meant for blood and strategy. At first it registered as nothing — just paper, just ink, just another distraction. Someone had brought it in. He didn’t know who. It didn’t matter.
Because right then, he saw his own face.
He stopped moving.
The room around him continued — men speaking quietly, a phone vibrating somewhere, the low hum of computers — but all of it fell away as he stepped closer and slowly lifted the magazine.
DE LUCA HEIR SPOTTED WITH NEW COMPANION
The photograph beneath it was cruel in its perfection.
Him.
And a woman.
A woman from his past — harmless, irrelevant, someone he had once escorted to a charity gala for appearances alone. Nothing more. But she was laughing in the picture, her head tilted toward him, her hand resting too close. His own expression was softened by the camera’s timing, by the light, by a moment that meant nothing but looked like everything.
Anyone who knew Alessandro knew this was nothing.
To anyone who wanted to believe it, it looked like love.
Something inside his chest cracked.
A cold wave rolled through him, hollowing him out from the inside. His knees gave in and he sat heavily in the nearest chair, the magazine still clutched in his hands.
“No,” he whispered. “Is this real?”
He looked around the room. “How popular is this magazine?”
A low voice answered carefully. “Boss… it’s everywhere.”
“When did it go public?”
“Early this morning. Every major outlet. This is one of the big ones. It belongs to one of the strongest social media families. They own multiple sites and magazines. This is their most popular one.”
Isabella had seen it.
The realization slammed into him so hard it felt like being struck.
Marco had been ahead of him the whole time.
He crushed the magazine in his fist. “Who printed this?”
A man stepped away to make a call. When he came back, his face was tight.
“Ricardo Fini. The oldest son of the family.”
Alessandro was already dialing. They had met before so he knew where to contact him. He had tried to make alliance with the Deluca family in the past.
The editor answered on the second ring, voice slick with professional courtesy.
“Società Media Group, how may I—”
“This is Alessandro De Luca.”
Silence.
“You printed a lie about me this morning,” Alessandro said quietly. “You will remove it.”
“Mr. De Luca, the photo was supplied anonymously—”
“You will remove it,” Alessandro repeated. “You will issue a public apology. You will state clearly that the woman is not involved with me.”
“We can’t just—”
“If this story is still live in five minutes,” Alessandro interrupted, “your building will no longer exist.”
The line went dead.
But the damage was already done.
Alessandro dropped back into the chair, pressing his hands to his temples.
“She’ll think I left her,” he whispered. “She’ll think I betrayed her.”
No one spoke.
“She already believes I didn’t come for her,” he said hoarsely. “This will confirm it. This will destroy her.”
He stood suddenly, pacing like a wounded animal.
“I need a counter-story,” he snapped. “Something she will see. Something she will believe.”
“Marco will move if you do this,” one of his men warned.
“Marco is already moving,” Alessandro replied. “I don’t care. I will not let her think that lie is true.”
He called the editor again.
“You will print a new story,” he said coldly. “One that corrects the damage you caused.”
Within the hour, the scandal was erased. A new story rised. Front page. Big letters and a picture of Alessandro.
No woman.
No insinuation.
Just him.
And beneath it:
My heart belongs to Isabella.
No rumors. No lies. No past will change that.
No surname.
Just truth.
Alessandro stared at the screen until his eyes burned.
“If she sees this,” he whispered, “she’ll know I’m still here.”
Marco
Marco saw the correction three minutes after it went live.
His lips curved faintly.
So De Luca was still trying.
Still believing love could beat power.
“Not anymore,” Marco murmured.
“Bring her back from Nonna’s,” he ordered. “Immediately.”
A pause.
“Yes. Now.”
Then he made another call.
“Vitale.”
A smooth voice answered. “Ah. You saw the article.”
“He’s still pushing.”
“That means he’s desperate,” Vitale replied calmly.
Marco closed his eyes. “We announce the engagement.”
“So soon?”
“She’s breaking. And De Luca just tried to reach her through the press.”
Vitale smiled. “Then lets keep him away permanently.”
Alessandro
Hours later, his phone rang again.
“She was moved.”
Alessandro’s blood went cold. “Where?”
“Back to the Romano estate. Heavy security. No outside access.”
Marco had pulled her back inside.
The endgame had begun. Alessandro smiled. He realised Marco had seen the article and was now scared, but as soon as he started relaxing that maybe this time he will be ahead of game
another alert flashed across his screen:
ROMANO DAUGHTER TO BE ENGAGED
His breath left him.
“No,” he whispered.
He had been too late.