Bound by shadows

Chapter two

The cameras flashed in rapid bursts, hungry to catch every flicker of grief or rather, the performance of grief that Victoria De Luca so effortlessly wore like a designer gown. Her black suit was sharp enough to cut glass, a perfect contrast to the fragile lace veil covering her face. She looked every inch the tragic guardian, stoic yet dignified, as she faced the sea of reporters gathered outside the gleaming De Luca Holdings building.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice thick with rehearsed sorrow. "Thank you so much for coming, as you all know, my late husband; may his soul rest in perfect peace, was taken away from us on this very day twenty years ago. She took a pause… He was a man of vision and legacy. His company remains intact, his family remains strong, and the future. she placed a hand dramatically over her chest, “will honor his name.”

Cameras clicked. Pens scratched. A few journalists dabbed their eyes dramatically, swept up in her performance.

Victoria paused, letting the silence hang just long enough to command attention. "Its no news that this company has not had a proper head for the past twenty years," she continued smoothly, "but now, as fate would have it, the burden of leadership falls down to my darling daughter, Lisa. But rest assured, I will be at her side…guiding, supporting, ensuring Carlos’s vision lives on."

The crowd rippled with approval. To the press, Victoria was the perfect blend of guardian and strategist. But beneath the veil, her lips curved in a secret smile. She was playing them all like a violin.

Not a word about the name written in the envelope.Not a word about the clause that could shatter Lisa’s future.

"That will be all," she concluded, turning gracefully. Flashbulbs followed her every step until the security team cut off access. She disappeared into the cool marble lobby, her veil slipping back just enough to reveal a deadly glare.

Inside, the grief-mask dropped.

Her heels clicked against the marble, sharp, impatient. Trish was waiting near the elevators, clutching her folder to her chest like a shield. She looked pale, her eyes darting nervously as Victoria approached.

"That was brilliant, Aunt Victoria," Trish offered, her voice small. "The way you—"

"Cut the flattery," Victoria snapped. She seized Trish’s arm and steered her into a private office, slamming the door shut behind them. The silence inside was heavy, suffocating.

Trish swallowed hard. "I—I just thought—"

"You think too much." Victoria’s voice was ice, her painted nails tapping the desk like a warning. "Listen to me, girl. What you think you heard in that boardroom,what you think you know,dies with you. Do you understand?"

Trish’s throat tightened. The memory of the unmarked envelope burned against her ribs where she’d hidden it. She forced herself to nod. "Yes, Aunt Victoria."

Victoria leaned closer, her perfume intoxicating, her gaze lethal. "If Lisa finds out what’s in that envelope before I’m ready for her to, she will resist. And if she resists, everything Carlos built…everything I’ve kept afloat for twenty years…collapses. Do you want that blood on your hands?"

Trish shook her head, her knees trembling.

"Good," Victoria whispered, her smile sharp and cruel. "Then remember this: one word out of place, and I’ll bury you so deep the press won’t even find your name on the obituaries. Don't forget why you are here and why you are still alive. I gave you the life you are living and I can easily make it disappear… along with you."

Trish’s lips parted in a silent gasp, but Victoria was already striding out of the office, heels clicking with deadly certainty.

---

The graveyard was quiet, save for the whisper of wind rustling through the trees. Lisa stood at the polished headstone, the name CARLOS DE LUCA etched in bold marble. Her umbrella was clutched in one hand, though the rain hadn’t yet started.

"Father," she murmured, her voice trembling.

Her chest ached. She has spent years trying to preserve memories of them together. Being separated from him at a young age. She barely knew who Carlos was,he was always on business trips and in board meetings. The only thing she has of him is a necklace he gifted her on her sixth birthday; a month before the tragedy took place. Yes, she barely knew him, but she knew him and nothing in twenty years has been able to fill the gap that he left behind.

"You left me nothing but questions," she whispered, fingers tracing the cold stone.

A single raindrop struck her cheek. Then another. Soon the drizzle thickened, tapping against the umbrella as if the heavens themselves mourned with her.

She exhaled, steadying herself. She opened up her umbrella. "You may have been taken away from me by fate,but I'll make a promise to you… I will honour your legacy….I will always love you, now and forever"

She turned sharply, her heels sinking into the wet grass. That’s when she nearly collided with him.

---

Tristan Moretti had no business being in a cemetery, yet here he was, standing in the downpour like it was made for him. His tailored black coat was drenched, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, but the rain only seemed to sharpen his presence. His jawline was cut from stone, his eyes molten steel, narrowed as they landed on her.

"Watch where you’re going," he bit out, steadying her arm before she could stumble. His grip was strong, infuriatingly sure, as if he owned even the space between them.

Lisa yanked her arm free, glaring up at him. "Excuse me? You’re the one blocking the way."

His mouth twitched in the ghost of a smirk. "Funny, I thought the path was wide enough for one damsel and one prince. But maybe your ego takes up extra space."

Her jaw tightened. "I don’t know who you think you are, but…"

"Someone who doesn’t care about your talk, but if you permit me I can shut you up with pleasure if you know what I mean," he interrupted smoothly. His gaze flicked over her wet curls clinging to her cheeks, the defiance in her stance lingered a moment too long. "But with that face that looks so much of that of Wednesday's right now,I will pass"

Her cheeks flamed, anger sparking hot in her chest. "You’re unbelievable." She had a confused gaze.

"And you’re predictable," he countered, stepping closer. The rain slicked across his coat, dripping onto the ground between them. “ If I was to take a guess, I would say you are a daddy's girl;who thinks everyone should fear her, but the truth is… he leaned in… you are the one who is scared."

The words cut too close, too sharp. How did he know?

Lisa forced a cold laugh. "You must get off on provoking strangers."

His smirk deepened. "Only the interesting ones."

Lightning flashed overhead, and for a moment, their silhouettes merged in the storm’s glow—two predators circling, neither willing to back down.

Lisa’s pulse thundered, betraying her fury with something dangerously close to desire. She hated the way his voice slid under her skin, hated the way her body betrayed her by leaning infinitesimally forward.

"Stay out of my way," she whispered, though it sounded more like a plea than a threat.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear despite the rain. "Sweetheart," he murmured, low and lethal, "I am your way."

Her breath hitched. She opened her mouth to retort

And then, in the distance, he spotted a man in black clothing. A figure, cloaked and watching.

Tristan’s gaze flicked up, hardening instantly. His hand closed around Lisa’s wrist, pulling her flush against him as if sh

ielding her from something unseen.

"Don’t scream," he growled. "And don’t look back."