Chapter 58 Fiorella
The drive back to the ruins of my house was silent, the sole sound being that of the engine filling in the quiet. I sat still, hands folded together in my lap, my eyes focused on the road ahead of us. I wasn't sure what I'd thought I'd feel when I finally saw it again—anger, grief, maybe even guilt—but as Rocco pulled the car to a slow stop in front of the burned-out remains. I felt angry.
The house stood as a ruin. There was no smoke left in the air, but the acrid scent of burned wood tenaciously clung to the site. The iron gates were warped by the flames, one dangling halfway off its hinges, and the neatly groomed lawn was a graveyard of ash and debris.
I stepped out of the car.
This was supposed to be my home. A place of strength, of legacy. A place where I could still feel my father's presence, where I could convince myself that all had not been taken from me.
Now, it was one more thing my enemies had tried to take away.
Rocco came to stand beside me, his own hands in his pockets, silent as he took in the devastation. He made no comforting sounds, no apologies or assurances that everything would be alright. He understood I wasn't requiring that of him.
I slowly exhaled. "I'm going to rebuild it."
It wasn't a question, wasn't a skeptical thought. It was a choice, final and absolute. Vittorio and the Marchesi thought they could destroy me, that they could burn my past and scare me into submission. But all they did was give me a reason to build something stronger.
"Good." Rocco's voice was level, as if he had expected nothing less. "But in the meantime, you should stay at my house."
I turned my head to look at him. "Rocco—"
"It's non-negotiable." He met my gaze, his eyes uncompromising. "It makes sense. You'll be safe. You won't have to worry about making arrangements. You can focus on dealing with things without having to sleep in a mess."
I turned to look back at the house, at the broken windows and the soot-stained walls. He wasn't wrong. But I had been leaning on them too much already—on him. And I couldn't afford to draw them any deeper into the chaos of my family.
"I appreciate that," I said, my voice firm but even. "But I don't want to involve you or your brothers any more than I already have. This is my fight."
His jaw tightened, a silent frustration, but he didn't push it. Didn't try to argue.
For a moment, I was certain he would, but instead, he just nodded once. "Fine."
That was it. No pressure, no second attempt to convince me.
I turned back to the house, eyes scanning what was left. I had work to do—rebuilding didn't just involve bricks and walls. It involved reclaiming what was mine.
And when it was done, when I was standing in the reconstructed walls of my home, I'd make everyone who had a hand in this pay the price.
I stood among the ruins, the wind carrying the faint scent of ash and smoke. The weight of what had been done to my home pressed upon my chest, but I would not let it gain the upper hand. This was not a time for sorrow. This was a time for war.
I reached for my phone and scrolled down my contacts, my fingers steady. There was only one person I had to speak to right now—JackThe moment he picked up, I didn't waste a moment.
"Get here," I ordered him, my voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. "Bring Leo with you. We rebuild immediately."
There was a pause, and then Matteo's low, controlled voice was on the line. "Understood. We'll be there soon."
I hung up, looking out at the destruction in front of me. Rebuilding didn't simply mean taking back what was lost—it meant making a statement. A statement that I wasn't broken, that I wasn't backing down.
But rebuilding was not enough. Vittorio had schemed this, and I would not rest until he paid for it.
I phoned Jack again.
"One more thing," I said when he answered. "I want Vittorio surveilled around the clock. I want to know where he is, what he's doing, and who he's meeting. I don't care what it takes—just do it."
Matteo did not hesitate. "Consider it done."
I exhaled slowly, my fist tight on the phone.
"If we're going to hit him, we're going to hit him where it's going to hurt him the most." My voice was cold, deadly. "Get the men ready. I want a plan by the end of the week."
I hung up and jammed my phone into my pocket.
Vittorio thought he could take everything from me. He thought I was weak.
But he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
I stood amidst the rubble, the blackened remains of my home around me like a battlefield after the battle had been lost. But the war was far from over. My mind was already going through plans, strategies, revenge. But for a moment, I felt the full weight of it on my shoulders, more than ever.
Rocco leaned against the car, the motor running softly, his presence still there though he was prepared to leave. His eyes found me, intense but serene, gazing at me in that way of his—like he saw all I wasn't saying.
He didn't try to tell me it would be okay. He didn't say things he couldn't fulfil, and I appreciated that. Instead, he came forward, his voice low, firm. "Take care of yourself."
There was something in the way he said it that tightened my chest. It was not a casual farewell, nothing that was said out of routine. He meant it. And I could sense it.
“If you need anything, you call me," he said.
I nodded, unsure of what to say. Because what could I say? That his presence, however temporary, meant more to me than I could express? That with everything I'd lost, with the fact that I wasn't completely alone, steadied something inside of me?
He hesitated for just a second—long enough for me to catch the faint stumble in his face, something unreadable before he glanced at me one last time and got into the car.
I stood and watched him drive off, the tires kicking up dust against the broken pavement. There was something inside of me that wanted to call him back, to ask him to stay, to hold on to the one thing that felt real in the face of the chaos.
But I didn't.
I just stood, my arms wrapped around myself, breathing in the smoky air and trying to root myself in the weight of the moment.
Rocco had said I should take care of myself.
But I wasn’t sure I knew how to anymore.