Page 106 of Ruined By Capture

Alessio grins at her, pulling out a chair. "My apologies. I was momentarily blinded."

"You two are adorable," Lucrezia says, gathering her sketches. "Like teenagers flirting at prom."

Alessio's expression shifts to mock horror. "Don't tell your brothers that. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What reputation?" Lucrezia snorts. "That you're some terrifying enforcer? Please. I've seen how you look at her when you think no one's watching."

"And how's that?" he challenges, though his hand finds mine under the table.

Lucrezia stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Like she hung the moon and stars just for you." She smirks at his discomfort. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. For now. Unless you annoy me, of course."

I nod, squeezing Alessio's hand as Lucrezia leaves us alone for our pretend first meeting and very real desire.

I study Alessio's face. Though he's smiling, there's tension around his eyes that wasn't there moments ago. My stomach tightens with familiar dread.

"What is it?" I ask. "You have that look."

"I have news."

"About Raymond." Only one person raises that particular black shadow in Alessio's eyes.

I watch Melania's face fall when she registers Raymond's name. Even after two months, just the mention of him makes her fingers itch to twist that ring—her mother's—the way she does when she's anxious.

"About Raymond," I confirm, running my thumb across her knuckles.

My mind drifts back to that night in Damiano's office. Leonardo standing there with the USB drive that changed everything.

"We need to bury this bastard," Leonardo had said, his voice glacial. "Not just kill him. Destroy him."

We worked through the night, selecting the most damning evidence. By dawn Noah's team had created encrypted packages for every major news outlet, law enforcement agency, and human rights organization across three continents.

Raymond Stone was having breakfast when they came for him. The security footage leaked later showed him in his silk robe, coffee cup halfway to his lips, utterly unaware his empire was already crumbling. That image—his complete shock—is one I replay when sleep won't come.

The days that followed were hell for him but heaven for justice. Families appeared on television clutching photographs of missing children and spouses. Hospital records matchedblood types to victims. Financial trails connected Raymond to every atrocity.

His political connections couldn't save him. His money couldn't buy silence. The evidence was too overwhelming, too public.

The only choice Raymond had left was which maximum-security prison would house him until his trial. His lawyers negotiated a single concession—a facility where his safety could be ‘guaranteed’. As if men like him deserve safety after what they've done.

I pull myself back to the present, to Melania's questioning eyes.

"Raymond's dead," I say, my voice flat. "They found him this morning."

Her fingers tighten around mine but her face doesn't register shock—just a quiet acceptance. She's been expecting this.

"How?" she asks.

"Officially? Suicide." I meet her eyes directly. "Unofficially? The other inmates. They have their own justice system inside those walls. Men who hurt children..." I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to.

She nods once, her gaze drifting to the window. "Was it quick?"

"No." The word hangs between us. "He suffered,piccola. For the two months he was in there, he suffered daily. The guards found him in his cell this morning. The condition of his body..." I shake my head. "Let's just say they're having trouble determining exactly what killed him first."

Melania takes a sip of her coffee, her hand steady. "I thought I'd feel something more," she says after a moment. "Relief maybe. Or satisfaction."

"And what do you feel?"

"Nothing." She looks back at me. "Just... nothing. Like closing a book I never wanted to read in the first place."

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