Part 5
The DeLuca estate was massive.
It sat on a hill overlooking the river, surrounded by high concrete walls and armed security.
Inside, the house was a blend of old-world wealth and modern luxury.
But to Elena, it just felt like a larger cage.
Enzo spent the afternoon in his study, leaving her to wander the main floor under the watchful eyes of the house staff.
They treated her with a strange, hesitant respect.
They didn't speak to her unless necessary, but they didn't treat her like a prisoner either.
As evening fell, Enzo sent for her.
She entered his study to find the desk covered in folders, photographs, and financial documents.
A large map of the city’s shipping ports was pinned to the wall.
Enzo was leaning over the desk, a pen in his hand, tracing a line on a document.
“Sit,” he said without looking up.
Elena took a seat in the leather chair opposite him.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, gesturing to the papers.
“My family’s shipping company,” she said softly. “The one my uncle runs.”
“The one he used to run effectively,” Enzo corrected, finally looking up. “He owes thirty million dollars to various syndicates across the ocean. He used your marriage to me as a guarantee to buy more time from his creditors.”
Elena wasn't surprised.
She had heard whispers through the walls of her old home.
“He told them the DeLuca family would back his debts now,” she murmured.
“Exactly,” Enzo said, a cold smile touching his lips. “He thought I would pay his debts to keep you happy. He thought a pretty face would make me soft.”
Enzo leaned back in his chair, locking his fingers together.
“Tell me about the warehouse on Pier 4.”
Elena blinked. “The warehouse? I—I don't know anything about the business. They never let me near it.”
“Think, Elena,” Enzo said, his voice dropping into that absolute, demanding tone. “You survived in that house by noticing things. When your uncle came home angry, what did he talk about? Who did he call?”
Elena closed her eyes, forcing her mind back into the dark corners of her memories.
She remembered the shouting.
The sound of breaking glass.
The smell of cheap cigar smoke that always preceded her uncle's outbursts.
“He... he had a key,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “A heavy brass key. He kept it in a hidden compartment in his desk. He only took it out on Tuesdays. He would say he was going to verify the 'special inventory'.”
Enzo’s eyes sharpened.
He leaned forward, interest flaring in his dark gaze.
“What else?”
“He always wore a specific pair of boots on those days,” she continued, the memories flowing faster now. “Muddy boots. Even when it hadn't rained. There is a section of Pier 4 that is unpaved, near the old marshlands.”
Enzo smiled.
It wasn't a warm smile. It was the smile of a predator that had just found the scent of its prey.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
He looked at her, his gaze intense, assessing.
“You see? You aren't useless, Elena. You just needed someone who knew how to ask the right questions.”
Elena felt a strange rush of adrenaline.
For the first time in her life, her knowledge meant something.
Her suffering wasn't just a silent burden; it was turning into data.
“What are you going to do to him?” she asked, her voice steadying.
Enzo stood up, walking around the desk until he was standing right over her.
“I am going to take his 'special inventory',” he said softly. “And then, I am going to let his creditors know that the DeLuca family has canceled his guarantee.”
May you like
He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I am going to watch him ruin himself, Elena. And you are going to have a front-row seat.”
