Enzo POV
"Everybody out. Now."
My voice cuts through the panic. Arthur stops yelling. Marco stops pacing. Isabella just stares at Sophia bleeding on my office floor.
"We have twenty minutes," Arthur argues. "We can't search the whole mansion in—"
"We're not searching." I pull out my phone. Hit the emergency alert. Every guard in the building will get the message. "We evacuate. Everyone leaves. Right now."
"But the bomb—" Marco starts.
"Will explode whether we're here or not." I grab Isabella's arm. She's frozen. In shock probably. "Move. All of you. Move."
Alarms blare through the mansion. Red lights flash. My guards know the drill—get everyone out in under ten minutes. Staff, family, everyone.
We run.
Arthur helps Sophia. Marco leads the way. I keep Isabella close, my hand on her back, pushing her forward.
"My things—" she says.
"Don't matter."
"But—"
"Nothing matters except getting you out alive."
We hit the main staircase. Staff are already flooding toward exits. Professional. Calm. I've trained them for this.
Fifteen minutes left.
We're halfway down when Isabella stops dead.
"The paintings."
"What?"
"The paintings in the east gallery." She turns to me. "Your wife's collection. The ones she spent twenty years gathering. You can't just—"
"They're things, Isabella."
"They're her memory."
Something twists in my chest. She's right. Lucia spent decades collecting those pieces. Every painting has a story. Every sculpture means something.
But none of it matters as much as the girl standing in front of me.
"Keep moving," I say.
"Enzo—"
"I said keep moving."
I physically pick her up and carry her down the stairs. She fights me for three seconds then goes limp. Smart girl. Knows when to stop arguing.
We burst outside. The lawn is chaos. Fifty staff members. Twenty guards. All heading for the gate.
Thirteen minutes.
"Everyone in the cars!" I shout. "No one stops. No one comes back. Drive to the safe houses. Wait for my call."
Arthur shoves Sophia into a car with Marco. "I'm staying with you."
"No, you're not."
"Dad—"
"Your job is to protect her." I point at Sophia. "She's bleeding and she's a traitor and she might be lying about everything. But she's still your sister. Keep her alive. I'll handle this."
Arthur's jaw clenches. But he nods. Gets in the car. They speed away.
More cars follow. The mansion empties like a kicked anthill.
Isabella hasn't moved. She stands on the driveway, watching staff flee, looking back at the mansion.
"We should go," she says quietly.
"Yes."
"But you're not leaving, are you?"
How does she know? We've barely spent time together. She shouldn't be able to read me this easily.
"There might be a way to stop it," I admit. "If I can find the bomb. If I can disarm it—"
"You don't know how to disarm bombs."
"I know enough."
"That's not the same thing."
Ten minutes.
"Get in the car, Isabella."
"Not without you."
"This isn't a negotiation—"
"You're right. It's not." She crosses her arms. "Either we both go or we both stay. Choose."
Stubborn. Fierce. Completely insane.
I've never wanted to kiss her more.
"Fine. We both go." I grab her hand. Pull her toward the last car.
That's when my phone rings.
Unknown number.
I answer. "What."
"Enzo Valentino." A man's voice. Amused. "Still alive. Disappointing."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who's been waiting a long time to watch your empire burn. Check your security cameras. Main hall. You'll want to see this."
The call ends.
I pull up the security app on my phone. Switch to the main hall camera.
My blood turns to ice.
There's a woman tied to a chair in the center of the hall. Bomb strapped to her chest. Timer counting down.
Eight minutes.
The woman lifts her head. Looks directly at the camera.
It's Isabella's mother.
Sofia Romano. Alive. Here.
"Oh God." Isabella sees the screen. "Mom. That's my mom. How—when did they—"
"The attack last night." My mind races. "They didn't just come for you. They took her too."
"We have to save her."
"Isabella—"
"She's my mother." Tears stream down her face. "I know she's weak. I know she didn't protect me. But she's still my mother and I can't just leave her to die."
Seven minutes.
Every instinct screams at me to throw Isabella in the car and drive away. Let Sofia die. She's nothing to me. Less than nothing.
But she's everything to Isabella.
And Isabella is everything to me.
"Get in the car," I tell her.
"But—"
"Get in the car and drive to the gate. Wait there. If I'm not out in five minutes, leave without me."
"I'm not—"
"That's the deal." I cup her face. "I go in. I get your mother. I disarm the bomb if I can. But you stay safe. Understand?"
She's crying fully now. "You'll die."
"Probably not."
"Enzo—"
I kiss her. Pour everything I can't say into it. All the feelings I've kept locked up for three years. All the want and need and desperation.
"If I don't make it," I say against her lips, "everything goes to you. The empire. The money. All of it. Use it well."
"I don't want your empire. I want you."
Those words hit harder than bullets.
But there's no time.
I push her toward the car. "Five minutes. Then you leave. Promise me."
She can't speak. Just nods.
I run back into the mansion.
Six minutes.
The halls are empty. Silent. My footsteps echo on marble that might become rubble in six minutes.
I hit the main hall. Sofia Romano is exactly where the camera showed her. Tied tight. Bomb strapped to her chest. Crying.
"Enzo." Her voice shakes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. They made me tell them about Isabella. They made me—"
"Quiet." I examine the bomb. Professional work. Military grade. Timer wired to a pressure sensor on the chair. If she moves, it explodes. If the timer hits zero, it explodes.
Five minutes.
"Can you disarm it?" Sofia asks.
"Maybe."
Lie. I have no idea what I'm doing.
I've seen bombs before. Hell, I've planted a few. But disarming one? That's specialist work.
Still. I have to try.
I pull out my knife. Start cutting wires from her restraints. Free her hands first.
Four minutes.
"When I say run," I tell her, "you run straight out the front door. Don't look back. Find Isabella. Tell her—" What? What do I tell her? "Tell her I tried."
"You're a good man," Sofia whispers.
"No. I'm really not."
I cut the last restraint. Sofia is free. The bomb is still counting down.
Three minutes.
"Run."
She runs.
Now it's just me and the bomb.
I kneel in front of it. Study the wires. Red, blue, green, yellow. One of them is the trigger. Cut the wrong one and we all die instantly.
Cut the right one and maybe—maybe—the timer stops.
Two minutes.
I reach for the red wire. My hand doesn't shake. Twenty-nine years of killing people has made my hands very steady.
That's when I hear footsteps behind me.
"I told you to leave," I say without turning around.
"And I told you I don't follow orders well." Isabella kneels beside me. "Which wire?"
"Isabella—"
"Which wire, Enzo?"
Ninety seconds.
"I don't know."
"Then guess."
"If I guess wrong—"
"Then we die together." She takes my hand. "Better than dying alone."
This woman. This impossible, stubborn, beautiful woman.
"You should hate me," I say. "I killed your father. I stalked you. I trapped you in a marriage. I've done terrible things."
"I know." She squeezes my hand. "Cut the wire."
Sixty seconds.
I choose the blue wire. No logic. No reason. Just instinct.
I cut it.
The timer keeps counting.
Forty-five seconds.
"Try another one," Isabella says. She's not even scared. Or maybe she's terrified but hiding it.
I cut the green wire.
Still counting.
Thirty seconds.
"Enzo." Her voice is calm. "I need to tell you something."
"Not now—"
"I'm falling in love with you." The words tumble out. "I know it's crazy. I know it's wrong. But these past few days, seeing who you really are, how you protect people, how you—"
Twenty seconds.
I cut the yellow wire.
The timer speeds up.
Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen.
"I love you too," I say. "For three years. Since the first moment I saw you. I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Isabella leans in. Kisses me. Soft and sweet and goodbye.
Five. Four. Three.
I close my eyes. Pull her close. If we're dying, at least we're together.
Two. One.
Zero.
Nothing happens.
We wait. Hearts pounding. Breathing hard.
Still nothing.
"Is it—" Isabella starts.
The bomb beeps once.
The timer resets.
Ten minutes appear on the screen.
And a new message scrolls across: "Fooled you. Now find the real bomb. -R"
We stare at each other.
"There's a second bomb," I say.
"Where?"
Before I can answer, an explosion rocks the east wing.
The wing where Lucia's paintings hang.
The wing where all my memories live.
"No." I'm running before I think. "No, no, no—"
Isabella chases me. "Enzo, wait! There might be more—"
Another explosion. West wing this time.
Then another. South wing.
They're not trying to destroy the mansion.
They're herding us.
Toward the north wing.
Toward my bedroom.
Where the real bomb is waiting.