Her voice dropped, sharp with warning. "Don't let anyone else hear this nonsense. You're finally building a stable life with my cousin—don't throw it away over a dead man. And as for your name, he probably read it off your work badge.
Didn't he call mine as well? If that makes him Vincent, then explain this—Vincent and I never even met. He shouldn't know my name either."
Alexandra exhaled and lowered herself back into her chair, her tone softening just slightly.
"Enough, Olivia. Forget it."
Olivia clenched her hands tightly at her side. This was insane. She knew it, yet the thought refused to leave her. Lorenzo Ricci, her new boss, and Vincent Moretti—the monster who had haunted her nightmares—were completely different men. And still… every time Lorenzo looked at her, her chest tightened as if Vincent had returned from the dead.
Forcing herself to breathe, Olivia rose to her feet and faced Alexandra with lowered eyes. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble, for dragging you into this mess. I truly apologize."
Alexandra's sharp gaze softened. "No worries. Take the day off—you look pale. I'll tell the boss you're unwell. It's better if you rest before this gets worse."
"Don't worry," Alexandra assured her firmly. "Everyone saw what happened in the meeting room. They'll understand. Just go home and take care of yourself."
After apologizing once more, Olivia finally left.
Meanwhile, inside Lorenzo's office, the air turned heavy the moment he entered. A cold, murderous light flickered in his eyes, sharp enough to cut through silence.
His assistant, Enzo, stood at attention with his hands behind his back, waiting.
"Enzo," Lorenzo's voice was calm, but laced with ice. "Find out everything about that woman—Olivia. Where she lives, who she meets, the cafés she goes to, her friends, her family. Everything. I want it on my desk within an hour."
"Yes, Boss." Enzo bowed deeply before leaving the office, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
Lorenzo walked back to his chair and sat down, twirling the pen between his fingers. His lips curled as he whispered, his voice dark and venomous.
"Olivia… sweet Olivia. You thought you could live happily while I was gone? Now that I've returned, let's see how long that peace lasts."
A glint of murderous intent flickered in his eyes, cold enough to chill the room.
An hour later, Enzo stepped into the office, placing a folder neatly on the desk along with another stack of documents. He stood at attention.
"Boss, her report is there. I also prepared your schedule. Since you've taken over Empire Daily News, you'll meet the shareholders at noon. Afterward, the editors will come to report on their subordinates."
Lorenzo didn't even raise his head. "Leave."
"Yes, Boss." Enzo bowed and exited, closing the door behind him.
The office fell silent again. Lorenzo opened the report on Olivia first. With each line he read, his expression darkened further. By the time he reached the last page, the air around him was suffocating, filled with a murderous chill.
"So, Olivia… you dared to enjoy your life. A new home, a stable career—and even a boyfriend. While I suffered, you lived as if nothing had happened." His voice dripped with malice. "Now that I'm back, I'll make you beg for death before I'm done with you."
Meanwhile, the moment Olivia arrived home, she neither ate nor rested. Instead, she locked herself in her study and pulled aside the towering bookshelf, revealing the hidden investigation board concealed behind it.
Her trembling hand flipped over a large investigation board, revealing photographs pinned in tight rows—faces of mafia leaders, cartel bosses, and underworld figures. Lines of red string connected names, weaving a map of danger.
Olivia grabbed a black marker from the desk. With a sharp stroke, she wrote one more name across the board.
Lorenzo Ricci.
Olivia stopped halfway through pinning another photograph on the board. Her eyes lingered on the messy web of connections she had built over the past weeks. Something felt wrong.
She stepped back, scanning the investigation wall—the mafia families, the cartels, the shadowy underworld figures. Yet the one thread that unsettled her most was the name she had just written: Lorenzo Ricci.
Where did it all begin? How could an Italian billionaire like Lorenzo be tied to Vincent? Olivia's gut had never failed her before. If her instincts told her they were connected, then there had to be a link. She needed answers—and only a private investigation into Lorenzo Ricci would uncover the truth.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. Olivia didn't leave her study until evening. After a quick wash and a half-hearted meal, she finally stepped into her living room—just as the front door swung open.
"Olivia."
She turned, relief softening her tense expression. William stood in the doorway, his smile weary, his eyes tired. He looked every bit the exhausted doctor she knew, but the moment he saw her, warmth flickered in his face.
She hurried to him, taking his coat and briefcase before leaning in to kiss him lightly on the lips. "You're back. Why so late? Weren't you supposed to return this morning?"
William slid an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the couch as he sank into it with a sigh. "I had to cover for a friend at the hospital."
Olivia pouted, settling against him. "My boyfriend is too kind. But promise me this—don't always take on other people's burdens. It breaks my heart to see you come home looking so exhausted."
He rested his chin on her head, his smile faint but genuine. "Don't worry. I have two days off next week. No hospital, no calls. Just you and me."
"That's good," Olivia murmured, finally allowing herself to relax in his arms.
"Speaking of a day off…" William's voice softened as he studied her pale face. "I heard from Alexandra that you've stopped going to your therapist. Why don't you see her tomorrow?"
Olivia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Let me guess—she told you what happened at the office today?"
William didn't flinch. "Yes. But only because she's worried. And so am I. Olivia, listen to me." His tone carried both firmness and tenderness. "Your therapist even called me yesterday. She said that you told her you wouldn't be coming anymore, that you no longer needed to go. She also mentioned that you still haven't truly opened up to her all these years. If what she says is correct, then you still need it."
His gaze was steady, filled with concern. Olivia felt her chest tighten. For two years, William had never pressured her to speak about her past. He had given her space, patience, and quiet understanding—something not many men would do. She was deeply grateful.
"Alright," she whispered. "I'll go. But not this week… next week."
Relief flickered across his face. He leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "I love you."
Olivia laughed softly as his lips trailed from her cheek to her mouth. The kiss deepened quickly, heat rising between them. She slipped onto his lap, arms tightening around his shoulders, their tongues entwining in a desperate rhythm.
Her fingers fumbled at his buttons—but William caught her hand, halting her. His breath was rough against her ear, voice hoarse with restraint.
"Remember our promise to your family," he whispered. "Not until after marriage."
Olivia's chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath.
"Olivia, you really are killing me," William murmured with a half-smile, his voice husky with urgency. "I feel like I've shot myself in the foot. At this rate, I'll have no choice but to hurry and get engaged to you—just so I can marry you sooner."
His earnest words sent Olivia into a fit of laughter, the sound light and disarming. But when she leaned closer, her tone shifted, low and teasing.
"Well, I might have another way to help you," she whispered against his ear.
Before she could retreat, William swept her into his arms. A startled scream escaped her lips as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging tightly so she wouldn't fall. He carried her swiftly toward the bedroom and shut the door with a resounding bang. Moments later, muffled laughter and breathless moans drifted faintly from within.
Meanwhile, across the city, Lorenzo finally left his office. The clock had already struck ten. Enzo rushed ahead, pulling open the back door of the waiting car. Lorenzo slid inside without a word. With a sharp signal from Enzo, the guards closed ranks.
The driver stepped on the accelerator, and the convoy moved out: five sleek black cars clearing the road in front, another five trailing behind to shield their leader.
"Yesterday," his voice broke the silence, low and dangerous, "when Dominic met with the Silent Vipers cartel on my behalf… did they suspect it wasn't me behind the mask?"