Bound by Duty

Chapter 7 I’m not a child

Vincenzo brought the car to a stop in front of Matteo’s apartment. Matteo reached for the handle and pushed the door open, one foot already out before he hesitated, “Whatever you’re thinking…” Matteo murmured, “Just make sure you’re not the only one thinking it.” He stepped out and slammed the door shut.

The car didn’t move for a few seconds, his gaze was fixed at the empty street, just staring eventually he slammed on the accelerator, his gaze didn’t linger or flicked as he drove straight towards the Bosco Verticale, the gates opened without delay, he drove into the underground parking, the engine echoing briefly before dying into silence, for a moment, he sat there, Staring at the windshield after a while before he finally stepped out.

The elevator ride to the penthouse was smooth and quiet, but every second felt stretched. When the doors finally opened, he walked through the hallway but stopped a few feet from the heavy oak door. He slowly reached for his pocket, brought his set of keys, and opened the door

He stepped forward slowly, the floor barely making a sound beneath his feet. The door clicked shut behind him. His gaze swept the entire living room as he moved forward. “Lucia?” he called out. No answer.

He slipped his hand inside his coat and drew his revolver, checked it, and moved forward. Each step across the marble floor was controlled and measured; his eyes continued to scan everything: the reflections in the glass, the corners, the spaces between objects. He moved deeper into the penthouse, past the living area, toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Then, hearing a sound he could barely make out, he stopped and listened, a faint shift of fabric. Vincenzo c****d the gun, and from the darkness at the end of the hallway, a figure stepped forward. Immediately, he lowered the gun.

“You’re late,” said Lucia

“Why are the lights off?” Vincenzo asked

“I was about to sleep, oh, before I forget, some men came looking for you.” His eyes widened immediately. “Who?” Lucia glanced at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t know their names, but they knew yours.”

“What did they want?” he asked. “They said to tell you something.” She took a step closer; her hands had curled into fists at her sides. Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor before finding his again. They said…” Her voice breaks for the slightest moment. “They said, hope you got the message at the warehouses.”

“That’s all?” He asked. She turned, walking toward the glass table near the living area. Vincenzo followed suit. Sitting at the center of the table was a small black box. Vincenzo stared at it for a while. “Did you open it?” Lucia shook her head. “They said it was only for you.”

“Of course, it was.” Vincenzo stepped closer and carried the box. He opened it. Inside, a single photograph. He picked it up, and immediately his face contorted with rage. Lucia looked at him, her voice barely steady. “Vincenzo… what is it?” he didn’t answer, instead he turned and walked straight to his home office, the door shut behind him with a quiet click, He moved to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and stared at the glass for a while before walking to his desk and sat down, He opened the drawer brought out a cigar, and placed it between his lips, lit it, then leaned back slightly.

The photograph lay in front of him. Vincenzo said nothing; he just stared at the photograph. Smoke curled into the air as he took a slow drag. Minutes passed, then, finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialed, and it rang once, “Vincenzo?” Matteo’s voice came through. “What is it?”

“They came to my house.”

“…What?” Matteo’s voice came through. Vincenzo exhaled slowly, smoke leaving his lips as his eyes remained fixed on the photograph. “They were inside.” Matteo’s tone snapped. “You’re serious?”

“They met Lucia,” he continued

“Is she safe?” Matteo interrupts again. “Yes,” he responds. “What did they want?” Matteo asks. Vincenzo taps the photograph lightly against the table and drags the cigar, slower this time. “It was about me.”

“Vincenzo…” Matteo interrupted again, “What aren’t you telling me?” Vincenzo leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, “They left something, a photograph.” Matteo didn’t interrupt again. “It’s all of us, the entire family… and my face is circled.”

“Madonna mia!” Matteo muttered, and Vincenzo leaned back again, the cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. “This isn’t just a warning,” said Matteo. “This is either a threat or a direct attempt on your life.”

“Vincenzo,” he called out, more serious now, “whoever these people are, they’re not just watching you; they’re baiting you; they want to see how you respond.”

“I know,” Vincenzo responded. “Then we don’t wait,” Matteo pressed. “We move first; we find them.”

“No,” Vincenzo interjected. Matteo stopped. “We don’t chase them,” Vincenzo said quietly, “That’s exactly what they want.”

“Then what do we do?” Matteo asked. Vincenzo looked down at the photograph one more time, but this time he focused on his own face. Then, he crushed the cigar slowly into the ashtray. “Call Antonio Santoro,” Vincenzo said quietly. “Tell him I want him in Milan by tomorrow.” Matteo didn’t interrupt this time. “And Matteo…” Vincenzo added, “Have Alexandro place two men around the penthouse. Discreetly. I don't want them drawing attention. You might be a target too, so stay low, no unnecessary movement until we understand what we’re dealing with.” Matteo exhaled. “…Alright.” The line went dead. Vincenzo lowered the phone slowly, finishing the last of his whiskey in a single swallow. He stood up and left the office. The bedroom door was slightly open. Inside, Lucia sat at the edge of the bed. She looked up the moment he entered. “How is he?” she asked softly. “Your father…”

“Stable,” said Vincenzo. “For now, but we don’t know for how long.” Lucia nodded. “I pray he responds to the treatment, and Vincenzo, who were those people? And what is going on?”

He didn’t answer immediately; eventually he spoke: “Everything is fine; you don’t need to worry.” Lucia sighed heavily. “Don’t do that; I’m not a child,” she continued, her voice rising just slightly. “You can’t stand there and tell me everything is fine. I’m your wife, for God’s sake!! I deserve to know what’s happening.” He glanced at her for a moment, then turned and walked to the closet. She watched him the entire time as he changed into his nightwear; he walked back to the edge of the bed and sat beside her. “You know I will always keep you safe.” Said Vincenzo

She stood abruptly from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as she paced a few steps across the room. “You say things like they’re supposed to comfort me, but they don’t actually mean anything.”

She turned toward him again, frustration burning openly across her face now. “Those were the exact words of my father before exchanging me for some peace deal. You keep telling me not to worry, to trust you, to stay calm… but you won’t tell me anything.” He watched her silently without interrupting. “That’s what frustrates me the most,” she continued, shaking her head. “You shut me out every single time something matters.” Her voice dropped quieter. “I don’t even know if you see me as your wife or just another person you need to protect and control.”

Immediately, the words landed; something flickered across his expression. He rose slowly and walked toward her; Lucia stepped back immediately. “Don’t,” she warned softly. But he ignored the distance she tried to create and stopped directly in front of her. Before she could retreat again, he grabbed her by the waist; she stiffened as her muscles tightened in resistance. She placed her hands against his chest, pushing against him with all her might. “Let go,” she hissed

Vincenzo didn't loosen his hold; instead, he pulled her flush against his chest, ignoring her resistance, and wrapped his arms securely around her, burying his hand in the back of her hair, gently pressing her head against his shoulder. “There are things you are safer not knowing,” he said quietly.

“There it is again,” she whispered. “Always the same answer.” Her shoulders sagged slightly, exhaustion finally bleeding through the anger. “Do you know what the worst part is?” she asked. “I don’t even think you’re lying to me because you don’t trust me.” Her lips pressed together tightly. “I think you genuinely believe silence is kindness.” Vincenzo didn’t respond because he didn’t have any.

She broke free from his hold, blinking hard before moving back toward the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Moments later, he followed. Slowly, he reached for her hands, easing her fingers apart one by one until the tension loosened slightly. Lucia resisted at first, but exhaustion dulled the fight in her.

“You should sleep,” he murmured. She stared blankly at him, still waiting for an explanation, but he said nothing. His hand moved to the back of her neck, guiding her gently against his chest. Lucia stayed stiff for several seconds before finally letting out a shaky breath. He leaned back against the headboard, keeping her close as his fingers moved slowly through her hair.

Her eyes remained open, listening to his erratic heartbeat as unanswered questions piled in her mind.