The city buzzed in its usual chaos, but within the confines of Luca's penthouse, silence hung heavy like a storm waiting to erupt. Elena sat by the large glass window, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the surface. She had noticed Luca's growing unease since her father's threats, his protective walls rising higher with each passing day.
But the day took a darker turn when a delivery arrived at the door. It was a simple manila envelope, handed over by a courier who refused to speak. Luca’s sharp instincts flared, and he opened it cautiously, finding photographs inside. His jaw tightened as his gaze roved over the images: Elena seated across from her father in what appeared to be a high-end restaurant.
Each image felt like a knife stabbing at his trust. In one, her face was al
