"Good." Lorenzo's voice was as sharp as a blade. "Enzo will send you the address. I want it done before today ends."
Without another glance, he slid into the black car. Enzo followed, his expression unreadable.
The engine rumbled, and within moments the car pulled out of the mansion gates, disappearing down the street and leaving Paola standing there,Paola's nails dug into her palm as her fist tightened, her eyes burning with ruthless determination.
Because of that woman, Lorenzo had scolded her—had even threatened to hand her over to Carlo. The thought made her blood boil. That woman would pay. Paola vowed she would find her, and when she did, the bitch was as good as dead.
Forcing a sweet smile back onto her lips, she turned on her heel and walked into the mansion as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, in the heart of the business district, Olivia hurried into the office just as the clock struck eight. A quiet breath of relief escaped her—she had arrived before Lorenzo. Dropping her bag onto her chair, she quickly slipped back out.
Each newsroom floor buzzed with twenty to thirty reporters, but Olivia barely noticed them. Her grip tightened around her phone as she pushed open the rooftop door.
The cool morning air hit her face as she dialed a number. The line rang once before a voice answered.
"Hello? Reporter Joe… this is Olivia from Empire Daily News. I was hoping we could meet today. I need a favor," Olivia said softly, her tone carrying a quiet plea.
There was a pause, then a reluctant agreement.
"Thank you," she said quickly. "Please, check if you have any information about someone named Lorenzo Ricci. I'll text you the place—we'll meet at noon. See you then."
She ended the call and exhaled heavily, pressing the phone to her chest.
At three in the morning, Vincent had called her. She hadn't thought much of it at first, but now her instincts screamed otherwise. How could it be a coincidence? The very day she met Lorenzo, Vincent suddenly called her…
Her pulse quickened. She didn't believe in coincidences. There had to be a connection between the two men.
Although Olivia had only seen Vincent once—on that terrifying night when she stumbled upon him murdering two police officers—she could never forget the look in his eyes. That cold, merciless smile had been seared into her memory. And yesterday, when she caught the fleeting glint in Lorenzo's gaze, her blood had run cold.
It was the same look… she wasn't mistaken.
She needed to investigate him secretly and observe this new boss of hers carefully. With that thought steadying her chaotic mind, Olivia left the rooftop and returned to her office.
Just as she was about to sit down, James leaned closer and whispered, "Olivia, the boss's assistant just came in. He said the boss wants to see you." His worried gaze lingered on her face.
Olivia forced a calm smile, gently patting his hand in reassurance. "It's alright," she murmured, though her own nerves twisted inside her. Maybe God is helping her.
After giving James one last glance, she walked out of the office and stopped before Lorenzo's office. Her fingers trembled slightly as she knocked on the heavy mahogany door.
"Come in." The cold, indifferent voice cut through the heavy wooden door like a blade.
Taking a steadying breath, Olivia pushed it open and stepped inside. But the moment her eyes fell on Lorenzo's expressionless face, her body stiffened. Her hand at her side trembled uncontrollably.
For a heartbeat, she forgot how to move, frozen in place as she stared at him.
No… his face and Vincent's are different… completely different.
Yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself, the memory of that same chilling gaze he had fixed on her yesterday refused to fade.
But their faces were completely different. Vincent's features were unmistakably American—his sharp jawline, that cold smile, and the brutal edge in his eyes. Lorenzo, on the other hand, embodied Italian elegance. His voice, his mannerisms, even the way his green eyes glinted in the light—everything about him radiated European refinement.
But could surgery really change so much? Olivia wondered. Had she been projecting Vincent's shadow onto every man who looked at her?
She was so absorbed in her unease that she didn't notice how close he'd gotten—until a cold, accented voice murmured at her ear.
"Why is Reporter Olivia staring at me with such eyes?"
The deep Italian accent jolted her back to reality. Startled, she lifted her head too quickly—her lips grazing the corner of his face. Both froze, shocked.
Flustered, Olivia stumbled backward. She missed a step and nearly fell—only for Lorenzo's hand to catch hers with unyielding strength. His other arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest.
Her forehead bumped against his chest with a dull thud. She winced, biting back a gasp of pain.
Once he is sure she won't fall, Lorenzo releases her with cool precision, stepping back to put distance between them. Olivia rubs her forehead, certain a red mark will form there soon.
While Olivia was rubbing her forehead, Lorenzo had already returned to his chair and sat down. From behind his desk, his cold voice cuts through the air again.
"I didn't think Reporter Olivia was the type of woman to throw herself into her boss's arms."
Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. Throw herself into his arms?
She wanted nothing more than to get away from him—not cling to him. The aura surrounding him was suffocating, heavy with a darkness that felt violent, almost murderous. It was the kind of presence that whispered of blood already spilled.
And when she finally forced herself to meet his gaze, her breath caught in her throat.
Because in that brief, piercing look—she saw Vincent in him again.
Lorenzo's gaze locked on her, sharp and unyielding, carrying not only disgust but something darker—hatred, perhaps, or an emotion she couldn't place. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
Forcing herself forward, she walked up to his desk and stopped on the opposite side, the heavy mahogany table the only barrier between them.
"Boss," she said carefully, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "I wasn't trying to throw myself into your arms. I already have a boyfriend—I would never do something like that. I only wanted to step away."
"It had better be," Lorenzo replies coldly, his tone like a blade. His face hardens as the pen in his hands spins in slow, deliberate circles. "I saw the report from your editor. She says you're investigating the Moretti family… and the Silent Vipers. Is that true?"
Olivia couldn't help but curse in her heart. Why did Alex have to tell their boss about what she was doing? What if he really is involved with Vincent and wants her to stop investigating the Moretti family and the Silent Vipers, and instead report on something else? Her hand clenched tightly at her side.
"Yes, Boss. That's what I've been working on," Olivia replied, keeping her tone respectful.
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Hmm. I see. You report on mafias and politicians, don't you?" His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
"Yes, Boss," she answered, her throat tightening.
"Good." His eyes narrowed. "Then I want you to shift your focus. Drop the Moretti investigation—for now. Instead, you'll cover the Obsidian Brotherhood and the Silent Vipers. On your way out, meet my assistant. He'll hand you the files. That's the story you'll work on, and I expect a detailed report.
After you finish, you may return to the Moretti family if you wish."
The pen in his hand stilled. Slowly, Lorenzo lifted his gaze. His green eyes locked on hers—icy, sharp, and filled with a coldness that pierced through her composure.
A shiver ran down Olivia's spine. "Yes, Boss. I'll get on it right away," she said quickly, forcing steadiness into her voice.
At least he hadn't completely forbidden her from investigating the Morettis. Does that mean he isn't involved with Vincent after all? she wondered. Or maybe… he doesn't know who Vincent really is. But no… that doesn't make sense. A man like Vincent wouldn't just disappear. Once a mafia, always a mafia.
Her thoughts tangled with unease, but Lorenzo's cold voice snapped her back.
"Is Reporter Olivia planning to stand here all day—or does she know how to leave when dismissed?"