Shifting Loyalties

At the Moretti estate, Don Silvio sat in his study, phone pressed to his ear. The room was dim despite the late morning light outside, heavy curtains drawn just enough to let a thin line of sun cut across the polished desk.

He did not rush. He never did. Timing was not a habit. It was a discipline. A weapon.

“Alessandro,” he said calmly.

“Yes, Don Silvio.”

“You’ve heard,” Silvio continued, tone almost indifferent, as though discussing weather rather than lives. “Bella Valenti is married to Luca Santoro.”

A pause followed. Not hesitation. Control.

Alessandro’s breathing slowed, deliberate. “I have.”

Silvio leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled. “Then you also understand what that means. The Valenti family chose their alliance. And in doing so…” he let the silence stretch just long enough, “…they turned their back on you.”

Alessandro’s jaw tightened. Not visibly. But Silvio heard it anyway. Pride always made a sound when it cracked.

“You were useful,” Silvio went on conversationally, almost kind. “A future son-in-law. A bridge between houses. Now you are inconvenient.” A brief pause. “Replaced.”

Silvio allowed the word to settle, to rot.

“Families don’t abandon blood easily, Alessandro,” he continued. “But they abandon promises without remorse.”

Alessandro said nothing. Silence, Silvio knew, was where resentment learned how to breathe.

“You’re angry,” Silvio continued quietly. “And you should be. Pride doesn’t survive being discarded. I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise.”

His voice hardened, just enough to feel intentional.

“Stand with me. Loyalty is rewarded. And unlike the Valentis… I do not forget those who were wronged.”

Alessandro exhaled once, slow and controlled. Strategy replacing shock. “I will consider it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Silvio replied, already reaching to end the call.

Moments later, he dialed again.

“Alessia,” he said when she answered.

“Yes.”

“You are no longer engaged,” Silvio stated plainly. “Luca Santoro is married to Bella Valenti.”

Alessia did not speak. Her silence was sharp, deliberate, the kind forged by years of being taught not to react first.

“The Santoro family made their choice,” Silvio continued evenly. “And in doing so, they turned their back on you.”

Her fingers clenched. Nails bit into skin. “They didn’t consult me.”

“No,” Silvio agreed calmly. “They rarely do when a woman becomes… expendable.”

Her jaw set.

Silence stretched. Silvio waited. He always did.

“Stand with me,” he said at last. “Not out of obligation. Out of honesty. You know what you feel. I do not punish that.” A faint smile touched his voice. “I use it.”

Alessia inhaled slowly. “I understand.”

“Decide quickly,” Silvio replied. “Resentment is most useful while it’s still burning.”

The call ended.

Silvio set the phone down and rose, walking toward the window overlooking the city. He hadn’t arranged the marriage. He hadn’t needed to.

He had only waited.

Anger made people predictable. Jealousy made them brave. And betrayal made them loyal to the wrong side.

Exactly the kind of allies he preferred.

Both Alessia and Alessandro, processed the news, not with tears, but with strategic evaluation. Shock, jealousy flickered, then pride and the need to reclaim control. They were offended, yes—but not powerless.

At the Santoro estate, Luca adjusted his suit jacket, glancing at Bella as she smoothed the front of her dress. “We’ll go to the meeting… and then somewhere quieter, just the two of us,” he murmured, a faint smirk in his voice.

Bella walked toward him, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I like that idea,” she teased.

He leaned closer, voice low and amused. “I know.”

Luca and Bella moved through the living room, eyes on the pistols they had left on the table the night before.

Bella suddenly froze, her eyes falling on a crumpled shape on the floor. Her cheeks warmed instantly. “Oh…” she murmured. Her wedding dress lay there, a silent reminder of the night before.

Luca caught the faint blush, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Looks like it didn’t quite find its place yet,” he said quietly, teasing but gentle.

Bella bit her lip, caught between embarrassment and nostalgia. “I… I should probably put it somewhere safe,” she admitted, glancing around the unfamiliar room, still getting used to the layout of her new home.

Luca stepped closer, crouching slightly to gather the dress. “Don’t worry, I’ll find it a proper spot—somewhere it won’t get in the way… or remind you too much of last night,” he said, tone steady and reassuring, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Bella chuckled softly, shaking her head. “It’s a good memory,” she admitted, her voice low.

He hung the dress in a nearby closet, smoothing it as best he could, then returned to her side. “All set,” he said, nodding. “Now we focus.”

With the dress safely tucked away, they both turned to the pistols. Luca checked his with practiced ease, the familiar weight grounding him.

“Even a quiet ride needs this,” he said, voice low.

Bella lifted her own weapon, turning it in her hands with smooth precision. “Quiet is just a pause between storms.”

He gave a faint half-smile, dark eyes watching her. “And storms are what we’re good at, right?”

She met his gaze, unwavering. “I don’t intend to be anyone’s liability.”

Luca nodded, the tiniest edge of concern creeping in despite his calm exterior. “Good. Because if anyone underestimates you… I’ll make sure they regret it.”

Bella smirked briefly, tension easing just a fraction. “Likewise. I’ve got your back.”

“Then we’ll make it through,” he said, more to himself than her, adjusting his grip on the gun.

Luca stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. Bella’s hands rested lightly on his chest as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her lips. When they pulled apart, his gaze dropped to her wedding ring—the Valenti rose in front, the Santoro lion subtly in the background. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, his own ring mirroring the design: the lion in front, the rose entwined around it. In that quiet moment, no words were needed. Two families, two souls, and a certainty—they were together, no matter the danger ahead.

“No matter what comes,” Luca murmured, steady but warm, “we face it together.”

“Always,” Bella whispered, pressing her hand to his chest. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of playfulness and trust.

Once ready, they left the Santoro estate. The Valenti villa rose ahead, silent and watchful. Men straightened, conversations stilled, and Luca sensed the shift immediately—calculations and attention adjusting in real time.

Word had traveled. Bella didn’t cling to him—she didn’t need to. Her posture was relaxed, her gaze steady. Her presence alone commanded authority.

In the sitting room, Marco stood with two dons, hands in his pockets, grin already forming. “Finally,” he said. “I was starting to think marriage made you both irresponsible.”

Bella shot him a look. “Careful.”

Luca caught her hand briefly. “Let’s focus.”

The teasing faded as they took their places. The room tightened, attention shifting.

For a moment, it felt stable. Controlled. Almost peaceful.

The meeting unfolded with deliberate calm.

“Territory oversight must be clearly defined,” Luca began. “All disputes handled jointly.”

“And security,” Bella added smoothly. “Joint operations require shared intelligence. No blind spots.”

Marco leaned forward. “Scouts. Safehouses. Temporary ones. In case things escalate.”

Luca nodded once. “Communication stays transparent. No surprises.”

The dons observed. Measured. Tested.

It became clear quickly: Luca and Bella were not newlyweds stumbling into power. They were aligned. Controlled. Dangerous in their unity.

“This is… impressive,” Bella’s father said at last.

Luca’s father nodded. “But don’t mistake calm for safety. The Morettis remain a threat.”

Marco’s expression sharpened. “Especially now.” His gaze settled on Bella. “If Silvio moves, you’re a target.”

The room stilled.

Luca felt his jaw tighten. Not fear. Memory. Bella cornered once before. Used as leverage.

Bella’s hand brushed his arm, grounding him.

“We understand,” Luca said evenly. “We’ll be vigilant.”

“Good,” Marco replied. “Because when Silvio finds out about this alliance…” He let the sentence die unfinished.

The meeting ended with quiet agreement and unspoken tension.

Outside, the sun was too bright for the thoughts pressing in on Luca’s mind.

“We can’t waste this,” he said at last.

Bella turned to him. “Waste what?”

“Any moment we get like this,” he replied quietly. “Together. Calm. In one piece.” His gaze held hers. “In our world, you never know which day is your last.”

She didn’t flinch. She understood too well.

“Then we take everything we can,” Bella said. “Every second.”

Luca nodded. “Exactly. We don’t wait for safer days. We live now.”

He rested his forehead against hers. Not a kiss. Something steadier. A silent agreement.

Because tomorrow was never guaranteed.

Because elsewhere, unseen, alliances were already shifting.

Alessia and Alessandro had not yet chosen their side. Each weighed the risks, the gains, and the grudges they could settle. Every move carried consequence, and both knew that joining Silvio Moretti—or resisting him—would change everything.