The library was a sanctuary of silence, its lined bookshelves towering over her. Gia ran her fingers along the spines covered in small particles of dust, her footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rug beneath her feet. The room was dimly lit, the afternoon sunlight filtering through heavy velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She needed a distraction—anything to take her mind off the suffocating tension that had settled over the mansion like a storm cloud.
A small wooden box tucked between two books on the highest shelf caught her attention. Curious, she climbed on a seat and pulled it down, the hinges creaking as she opened it. Inside were old photographs, their edges slightly curled with age. She sifted through them, her fingers trembling slightly as she unearthed memories that weren't her own. There were pictures of Alvan as a boy, his face softer but his eyes already carrying that familiar hardness. There were others of a man she assumed was Omri, his sharp features and cold gaze unmistakable. Most of the pictures had dates behind them, the names of the people in the picture but one picture without any inscription stole her attention.
And then she saw him.
The photograph was slightly faded, but the young man's smile was radiant, his arm slung casually around Alvan's shoulders. They looked close, like brothers, their laughter frozen in time. Gia stared at the photo, a strange ache settling in her chest. She didn't recognize the young man, but there was something about him—something that made her feel as though she were intruding on a moment she wasn't meant to see.
"What are you doing?"
The voice cut through the silence like a knife. Gia flinched, nearly dropping the photo. She turned to see Alvan standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on the photograph in her hands.
"I—I was just looking for something to read," she stammered, hastily placing the photo back in the box. "I didn't mean to—"
Alvan crossed the room in three long strides, his movements sharp and deliberate. He snatched the box from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his jaw clenched as he glared at the photograph.
"This isn't yours to look at," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He shoved the photo back into the box and slammed the lid shut, the sound echoing through the room.
Gia took a step back, her heart pounding. "I didn't know it was private. I was just—"
"Just what?" he interrupted, his tone biting. "Snooping? Trying to dig up dirt on my family?"
"No!" she protested, her voice rising. "I told you, I was looking for a book. I didn't mean to—"
"Save it," he snapped, cutting her off again. He turned away from her, his shoulders stiff as he placed the box back on the shelf. "Stay out of things that don't concern you."
Gia's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to argue, to demand to know why he was so angry over a simple photograph, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she watched as he strode out of the library, the door slamming shut behind him.
The room felt colder now, the shadows stretching longer across the floor. Gia sank into one of the armchairs, her legs suddenly unsteady. She stared at the shelf where the box had been, her mind racing. Who was that young man? And why had Alvan reacted so violently to her seeing his photo?
The ache in her chest deepened, a mix of curiosity and unease settling over her. She didn't know what she had stumbled upon, but one thing was clear: whatever secrets Alvan's family was hiding, they were buried deep—and they weren't meant to be uncovered.
Gia stood frozen in the library, the echo of the slamming door still ringing in her ears. Her heart pounded as she stared at the empty doorway, her mind racing. The photograph, Alvan's reaction, the way his voice had cracked with something raw and painful—it all swirled in her head like a storm. She couldn't let it go. She wouldn't let it go.
She found him in the study, a room that always felt too small for his presence. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, and a heavy oak desk dominated the space. Alvan stood by the window, his back to her, his shoulders tense as he stared out at the sprawling estate grounds. The sunlight streaming through the glass did nothing to soften the harsh lines of his profile.
"Who was he?" Gia asked, her voice steady despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.
Alvan didn't turn around. "Who?" he said, his tone flat, as if he already knew the answer.
"The man in the photo," she pressed, stepping further into the room. "The one you were so eager to hide from me."
He turned then, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. "You really don't know?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or are you just playing the innocent victim again?"
Gia flinched at the venom in his words but held her ground. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen him before."
Alvan let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. "Of course you haven't. Why would you? It's not like your family had anything to do with his death."
Gia's breath caught. "His… death?"
Alvan's jaw tightened, and he took a step toward her, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. "Luca," he said, the name heavy with emotion. "My cousin. My best friend. The only person in this godforsaken family who ever gave a damn about me."
Gia's stomach churned as she processed his words. "I… I didn't know," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Alvan repeated, his voice rising. "You're sorry? Do you think that changes anything? Do you think it brings him back?"
"No, but—"
"But nothing," he snapped, cutting her off. "Your family killed him. They planted that bomb, and they took him from me. And now you're here, pretending you don't know anything about it. Do you think I'm stupid?"
Gia shook her head, her hands clenched at her sides. "I don't know what you're talking about. My family had nothing to do with that. I swear."
Alvan let out a harsh laugh, his eyes blazing with anger. "Save your lies, Gia. I don't want to hear them."
"I'm not lying!" she shot back, her voice breaking. "I didn't even know who Luca was until today. How could I have had anything to do with his death?"
Alvan's expression darkened, and he took another step toward her, closing the distance between them. "You expect me to believe that? After everything your family's done? After everything you've done?"
Gia's chest tightened, and she took a step back, her legs bumping against the edge of the desk. "I don't know what you think I've done, but I'm not my family. I didn't ask for this marriage any more than you did."
Alvan's eyes bore into hers, his gaze piercing, as if he were trying to see through her lies. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between them so thick it felt suffocating. Then he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Get out," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Gia hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. "Alvan—"
"I said get out!" he roared, slamming his fist down on the desk. The sound echoed through the room, making her flinch.
She didn't need to be told twice. Gia turned and fled the study, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she hurried back to the library. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, anger, and a deep, aching sadness she couldn't quite place.
She sank into the armchair by the window, her hands trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself. The photograph, the accusation, the raw pain in Alvan's voice—it all played over and over in her mind. She didn't know what to believe anymore. Was her family capable of something so terrible? And if they were, what did that mean for her?
Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room into shadow. Gia stared out at the darkening sky, her thoughts racing. One thing was clear: she couldn't let this go. She needed answers, no matter the cost.
x x x
Gia's room felt like a prison. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, blocking out the last remnants of daylight, and the air was thick with the scent of roses from the vase on her nightstand. She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her mind replaying the confrontation with Alvan over and over.
"Your family killed him."
The words echoed in her head, each one a dagger twisting deeper into her chest. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe it. Her family had its flaws, but they weren't murderers. Were they?
She stood abruptly, pacing the room as her thoughts spiraled. The plush carpet muffled her footsteps, but the sound of her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. She stopped in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and haunted. She barely recognized herself.
"This doesn't make sense," she whispered to the empty room. "There has to be more to this."
But what if there wasn't? What if Alvan was right? What if her family had done something unforgivable, and she'd been kept in the dark all this time? The thought made her stomach churn. She needed answers, but where could she even begin?
Her gaze fell on the small writing desk in the corner of the room. She crossed to it and pulled open the drawer, her fingers brushing against the stack of letters she'd brought with her from home. Letters from her father, her brother, her cousins—each one a reminder of the life she'd left behind. She picked up the most recent one, her father's elegant script filling the page with promises of protection and reassurance.
"We'll always take care of you, Gia. No matter what."
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn't afford to fall apart now. If her family was innocent, she needed to prove it. And if they weren't… well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
---
Meanwhile, in the study, Alvan sat alone in the dark. The only light came from the flickering flame of the fireplace, casting long shadows across the room. The photograph of Luca lay on the desk in front of him, the young man's smile frozen in time. Alvan stared at it, his chest tight with a grief that never seemed to fade.
He picked up the photo, his fingers tracing the edges. Luca had always been the one person who could make him laugh, even in the darkest of times. They'd been inseparable since they were kids, two boys against the world. And then, in an instant, he was gone.
Alvan's jaw tightened as he thought about Gia. Her wide, innocent eyes, her trembling voice, her insistence that she didn't know anything about Luca's death. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to believe her. But how could he? How could he trust the daughter of the man who'd taken everything from him?
He slammed the photo down on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. He couldn't afford to be weak. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a moment. Gia was a pawn in this game, just like he was. And if she was lying, if she was playing him for a fool…
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wouldn't let her get to him. He couldn't.
---
Back in her room, Gia sat at the desk, a blank sheet of paper in front of her. She picked up a pen, her hand trembling slightly as she began to write.
"Dear Omar…"
She paused, staring at the words. Her brother had always been her confidant, the one person she could trust no matter what. If anyone could help her make sense of this, it was him.
She wrote quickly, her pen scratching against the paper as she poured out her thoughts and fears. She told him about the photograph, about Alvan's accusations, about the growing sense of unease that had taken root in her chest. She ended the letter with a plea for answers, no matter how painful they might be.
When she was done, she folded the letter carefully and sealed it in an envelope. She'd send it first thing in the morning. For now, all she could do was wait.
x x x
The mansion was eerily quiet at night, the kind of silence that made every creak of the floorboards and every rustle of the curtains feel like a whisper. Gia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind too restless to sleep. The confrontation with Alvan earlier that day played on a loop in her head, his accusations and the raw pain in his voice haunting her.
She tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around her legs. Finally, she gave up and sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair. The clock on the nightstand read just past midnight. She needed air—or at least a distraction.
Slipping out of bed, she padded barefoot across the room, the cool wooden floor sending a shiver up her spine. She grabbed her robe from the chair and wrapped it around herself, the silk soft against her skin. The hallway outside her room was dimly lit, the sconces casting long shadows on the walls. She moved quietly, her footsteps barely audible as she made her way toward the staircase.
As she passed the study, she heard voices—low and urgent. She froze, her heart skipping a beat. The door was slightly ajar, and a sliver of light spilled out into the hallway. She recognized Alvan's voice immediately, his tone sharp and clipped. The other voice was deeper, more commanding. Omri.
Gia hesitated, her instincts warring with her curiosity. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but the mention of Luca's name earlier had left her with more questions than answers. She crept closer, pressing herself against the wall just outside the door.
"You need to let it go, Alvan," Omri was saying, his voice calm but firm. "Luca's gone. Nothing you do will bring him back."
"I know that," Alvan snapped, his voice tight with frustration. "But that doesn't mean I'm just going to forget what happened. Someone needs to pay for it."
"And they will," Omri replied, his tone almost soothing. "But you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You're too close to this."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Alvan demanded.
There was a pause, and Gia held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She could almost picture Omri's expression—cold and calculating, his sharp eyes boring into Alvan.
"It means," Omri said slowly, "that you're letting your hatred for Gia and her family blind you. You're so focused on revenge that you're not seeing the bigger picture."
Gia's stomach twisted at the mention of her name. She pressed a hand to her mouth, afraid to make even the slightest sound.
"I'm not blind," Alvan shot back, his voice rising. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Omri challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're letting your personal feelings get in the way of what needs to be done."
Alvan didn't respond, and the silence that followed was heavy with tension. Gia could hear the crackle of the fireplace, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.
"Just remember," Omri said after a moment, his voice low and dangerous, "the past needs to stay buried. If you start digging, you might not like what you find."
Gia's breath caught in her throat. What did that mean? What was Omri hiding?
"And Gia," Omri continued, his tone hardening. "You need to keep her in line. She's a liability, Alvan. If she starts asking questions, it could ruin everything."
Gia's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. A liability? Is that all she was to them? A pawn to be controlled?
"I'll handle her," Alvan said, his voice cold and dismissive.
"See that you do," Omri replied. "We can't afford any mistakes."
There was the sound of footsteps, and Gia's eyes widened in panic. She turned and hurried back down the hallway, her heart racing. She barely made it to the staircase before the study door opened, and the sound of Omri's footsteps echoed behind her.
She didn't stop until she was back in her room, the door closed firmly behind her. She leaned against it, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her mind was spinning, the conversation replaying in her head.
"The past needs to stay buried."
"Keep her in line."
The words sent a chill down her spine. Omri knew something—something he didn't want anyone else to find out. And Alvan… Alvan was so consumed by his hatred for her family that he couldn't see the truth.
Gia crossed to the window, pulling the curtains aside to stare out at the dark grounds below. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the gardens. She felt a surge of determination, her earlier unease hardening into resolve.
She wouldn't be kept in the dark anymore. She wouldn't be controlled. If Omri and Alvan thought she was just a pawn in their game, they were about to find out how wrong they were.
x x x
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the dining room, casting a golden glow over the polished wooden table. Gia sat at one end, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though she hadn't taken a single sip. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the conversation she'd overheard the night before. The words "keepher in line" and "the past needs to stay buried" echoed in her head like a relentless drumbeat.
Beside her, Javan sat quietly, his sharp eyes studying her over the rim of his coffee cup.
"You're quiet this morning," Javan said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made Gia look up.
She hesitated, glancing around the room to make sure they were alone. The servants had already cleared the breakfast dishes, and the only sound was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Still, she lowered her voice as she spoke.
"I overheard something last night," she began, her fingers tightening around the teacup. "Alvan and Omri were talking in the study. They mentioned Luca."
Javan's expression didn't change, but she saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table. "What did they say?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Gia recounted the conversation, her voice barely above a whisper. She told him about Omri's cryptic warning, about the way he'd dismissed her as a liability. She told him about Alvan's cold determination, his refusal to see anything but his own hatred.
When she finished, Javan leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on the window behind her. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
"You need to be careful, Gia," he said, his voice low and serious. "This family… they're not like yours. They play by different rules."
"I know that," Gia said, frustration creeping into her voice. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. If Omri knows something about Luca's death, if he's hiding something… I need to find out what it is."
Javan's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't understand what you're getting into. Capo is dangerous. If they think you're poking around where you shouldn't be…"
"I'm not afraid of them," Gia interrupted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her words.
Javan reached across the table, placing a hand over hers. "You should be," he said firmly. "I've heard things, Gia. Rumors about Luca's death, about what really happened. If Omri's involved…"
He trailed off, his expression darkening. Gia's heart skipped a beat. "What rumors?" she pressed. "What do you know?"
Javan shook his head. "Not much. Just whispers. But enough to know that you're playing with fire. If you go digging, you might not like what you find."
Gia pulled her hand away, her resolve hardening. "I don't care. I need to know the truth. For Luca. For Alvan. For myself."
Alvan studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "You've always been stubborn," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just… be careful. And if you need me, I'm here."
---
That night, Gia waited until the mansion was silent before slipping out of her room. The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the moon streaming through the windows. She moved quickly but quietly, her bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor.
Omri's private office was on the second floor, at the end of a long corridor. The door was locked, but Gia had come prepared. She pulled a hairpin from her pocket and bent it into shape, her hands trembling slightly as she worked the lock. After a few tense moments, she heard a soft click, and the door swung open.
The office was exactly as she'd remembered it—opulent and intimidating. A large mahogany desk dominated the room, its surface cluttered with papers and ledgers. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes and expensive-looking trinkets. The air smelled of cigar smoke and old money.
Gia moved quickly, her heart pounding as she rifled through the desk drawers. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she hoped she'd know it when she saw it. Finally, in the bottom drawer, she found it—a thick manila folder labeled "Luca."
Her hands shook as she pulled it out, her breath catching in her throat. This was it. The answers she'd been searching for. She opened the folder, her eyes scanning the first page.
Before she could read more than a few words, she heard it—the sound of footsteps in the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she froze, her mind racing. There was no time to escape.
The door creaked open, and Gia's blood turned to ice.