Page 10 of Silent Night With Alessio

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my breathing even. I know I haven’t done anything wrong. I treated that ring with care, just like every piece that crosses my bench. Analyzing the stones, polishing every surface to perfection.

And when I saw the phoenix engraving, I was impressed by its intricacy.

I couldn’t betray them. I’d never dare. My grandpa told me enough about the Luciana family for me to understand what they’re capable of. He always warned me: respect them, handle their requests with care, and never, ever cross them.

The world outside feels muted as we pull up in front of the Bellini Lodge. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat tightening around my ribs, reminding me how precarious this moment is.

Alessio kills the engine without a word, and I can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace.

When he opens my door, it feels less like a gentleman’s gesture and more like a command, a clear, silent directive to step out and face whatever awaits me inside.

We walk through a dimly lit corridor, my heels clicking on the tiled floor, every sound sharper and heavier in the quiet. Thewalls close in as we reach a door with a brass handle, and I feel a chill run down my spine.

The silence stretches, and in that brief moment, I almost feel the urge to turn and bolt.

But I don’t. I can’t. I force myself to step forward, to be the woman my grandfather raised me to be.

He always told me, “Respect the Luciana, Isabella. They may offer warmth, but they can turn cold as ice.”

Those words feel like a prophecy now as Alessio opens the door. And then I see him—Massimo. The new Luciana patriarch, a big man in a dark suit, wearing a menacing expression.

The sight of him is terrifying as he stands by his desk, shrouded in the haze of his cigar smoke, his face a storm of restrained fury.

“Isabella Marino.” His voice cuts through the room, low and dangerous, and I feel my stomach twist. “Do you want to tell me what you did with the ring?”

The accusation hits hard, its sharpness biting into me. I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I did exactly what you asked, Massimo. I cleaned it, polished it, checked every gem. It was perfect when it left my hands.” I keep my gaze steady, hoping he sees the truth in my eyes, but the look on his face doesn’t soften.

Massimo steps around his desk, his movements slow and deliberate, each step heavy. He watches me carefully, like a lion deciding whether its prey deserves mercy.

His hand dips into his pocket, and then, without warning, he throws something small and metallic onto the table in front of me. The clink of metal is the only sound in the room.

“Then explain that.”

An object…a ring…sits on the table, gleaming under the dim lights. I feel the room spin slightly as I pick it up, turning it over in my fingers.

The realization hits me instantly.

The weight… it's wrong. Not by much, barely enough for anyone else to notice, but I can tell. The balance is off, like a whisper only I can hear.

And the texture... the gold doesn’t have that same rich density. Fewer karats, maybe. Definitely not the same gold I worked on.

My eyes narrow as I study the diamonds. They’re close, almost perfect, but there’s a dullness, an unfinished quality.

But it's when I spot the engraving that my heart rockets to my throat. I know what I saw there…a phoenix aiming itself downward to perch, fierce and unmistakable.

This? This is… a ridiculous, awkward chicken.

I feel a surge of dread, like ice in my veins. This is wrong. So wrong. I can barely form a thought as I clutch the ring tighter, feeling the smooth metal press into my palm.

My legs give out before I know what’s happening, and suddenly, I’m on my knees, head bowed.

“Sir, please… I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this. I’d never betray you.” The words tumble out in a panicked rush. “My grandfather, he told me stories about your family, about everything your family has done for us. I know better than to cross you. I’d never dare.”

Massimo shakes his head, his face a mask of stone.

“What happened to the ring, Miss Marino?” His voice is low, biting, each word edged with an icy threat. “You tell me now, or I’m gonna do something you’re not gonna like.”

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