Valeria DeLuca left behind a bloodstained legacy for art and ambition, wielding power through elegance, not violence. But some debts are never erased, and some names never forgotten. Rafael Moretti has waited long enough. He was promised something, and now, he is here to collect. Valeria can fight, but in his world, promises are binding and sealed in blood. She belongs to him. She just doesn't know it yet.
Chapter 1 The Exhibition
VALERIA'S POV
"That sculpture is off-center."
Valeria DeLuca's voice rang across the gallery, calm but firm. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode across the room, sharp eyes scanning every detail.
"Move it two inches to the left," she instructed, arms crossed. "It needs to align perfectly with the light. The shadows should stretch just enough to command attention when people walk in."
Marco, the head installer, muttered under his breath as he adjusted the piece. Valeria didn't need to hear him. She was used to the irritation her precision caused.
Perfection wasn't optional.
She turned to Clara, who was flipping through her tablet, a crease forming between her brows.
"Tell me," Valeria said, already sensing bad news.
"The last shipment is delayed again," Clara sighed. "Customs is holding one of the paintings. They claim it is a 'documentation issue.' But we both know what it is."
"A bribe," Valeria finished, a cold smile touching her lips. "Typical."
She had built this gallery from nothing; every deal, every exhibition, every client, she had earned. But there were always people who wanted a cut. People who still saw her as Salvatore DeLuca's daughter rather than a force of her own.
"Should we push harder?" Clara asked.
Valeria exhaled, rubbing her temples. "No. Just pay them."
Clara hesitated. "Val, it is a ridiculous amount this time..."
"It is always ridiculous," Valeria cut in. "But we don't have time for games. I want every single piece here before the exhibition opens."
Clara nodded, though doubt lingered in her eyes. They both knew this wouldn't be the last time. Valeria exhaled, brushing a hand over her blazer as if smoothing away the conversation itself. There was work to do. Yet, a quiet unease settled in her chest. Like something was watching her. It was ridiculous. She wasn't that paranoid.
Outside the gallery, across the street, a man hovered near parked cars, posture relaxed, gaze fixed. The evening crowd moved around him, uninterested.
Valeria didn't see him. She was too busy pretending her past wasn't about to collide with her future.
RAFE'S POV
Rafael Moretti knew who was calling before he even looked at the phone.
The device buzzed against the mahogany desk, the only sound in the dimly lit study. Beyond the open window, the restless night hummed, but inside, silence reigned. His men stood motionless, eyes shifting between Rafe and the two kneeling figures on the cold stone floor.
The phone buzzed again.
Rafe rolled his whiskey glass between his fingers before answering.
"Go ahead."
A low voice sliced through the silence. "It is time. We have waited long enough."
Rafe said nothing at first, his jaw tightening.
Valeria DeLuca.
A name he had not spoken in years. A name that should mean nothing now. Except it did. She had built her gallery with the arrogance of someone born into power, believing that turning her back on her world meant it would turn its back on her. But the past was never that kind.
And debts were never forgotten.
"You have given her time, Rafael. More than she deserves," the voice pressed. "She thinks she is untouchable."
Rafe's fingers stilled on the rim of his glass. "And?" His voice was calm, but something sharper lurked beneath it.
The voice on the other end scoffed. "You hesitate?"
"I consider."
"You have been lenient," the voice continued. "Now remind her who she belongs to."
His fingers flexed once before he placed the glass down with a soft thud.
"She doesn't know yet."
"Then make her know."
A sharp silence stretched before the call cut off. The room remained still. His men didn't speak. They knew better.
One of them muttered under his breath, "The boss won't like this."
Rafe's expression darkened. His stepbrother's discontent was not his problem. Yet.
Instead, he turned to the two men kneeling before him; battered, bruised, begging.
"Boss, please," one croaked, blood dripping from his split lip. "It was not personal. We just.."
"Just what?" Rafe lifted a brow.
"We were following orders," the second man gasped, breath ragged. "We had no choice."
Rafe let out a slow breath, crouching before them. He reached out, gently fixing the bloodied collar of one man's shirt.
"Following orders," he mused, voice almost sympathetic. "I can respect that."
Relief showed in their eyes. One nearly sagged in gratitude.
Rafe nodded as if considering their plea. Then, with calculated ease, he stood, turned his back and pulled the trigger.
Two shots. One for each of them.
The bodies slumped. The scent of gunpowder lingered as Rafe holstered his gun. He took a slow sip of whiskey.
Then, his gaze shifted to the phone.
It was time.
And Valeria would never see him coming.
Chapter 1 The Exhibition
14/03/2025
Chapter 2 Protect you
14/03/2025
Chapter 3 Marry Rafe
14/03/2025
Chapter 4 Tomorrow we get married
14/03/2025
Chapter 5 The Wedding Night
14/03/2025
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