**Chapter Five: The Snake Strikes First
1166 Words
The wind howled outside the Romano estate like a warning.
Elena stood in her bedroom window, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her thoughts were everywhere—on Vincent’s confession, on the ghosts he kept locked behind glass, on the brush of his fingers against her waist, and the words he’d whispered with terrifying calm.
> “Be careful, Elena. Because in my world… enemies don’t always come at you with guns.”
She hadn’t stopped thinking about Elara since.
The woman had eyes like a hawk, lips that curved with lies, and the kind of power that came from secrets and seduction. She was beautiful, yes—but behind her red lipstick and silk dresses was something poisonous.
And Elena had a feeling the woman wasn’t done with her yet.
---
Two days later.
The call came while Elena was in the garden, pruning the dying roses her mother once loved.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: I think we should meet. Woman to woman. Same café as always. Come alone. Don’t tell Vincent.
Elena’s breath caught.
She didn’t have to ask who it was.
Only one woman would text like that. Confident. Manipulative. Baiting.
Elara.
Elena stared at the message for a long time. Her first instinct was to ignore it. To run it straight to Vincent. But something in her gut told her no. If she was going to survive this marriage—this game—she needed to know exactly what kind of snake was slithering around her feet.
So she went.
---
The café was quiet. Upscale. Hidden in the cobbled alleys of Milan. A place where secrets were whispered between cups of espresso and no one dared ask questions.
Elara was already there, of course.
Sitting by the window in a blood-red blazer and heels sharp enough to kill. Her hair was perfectly curled, her nails black, and her expression one of pleasant boredom—as if this meeting was merely an inconvenience in her otherwise perfect day.
Elena approached slowly and sat down across from her.
“You came,” Elara purred. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m not here to be impressed,” Elena replied.
“Of course not.” She stirred her coffee with a silver spoon, not bothering to look up. “You’re here to understand what kind of mess you’ve walked into.”
“I already know what Vincent is.”
Elara’s lips curved. “Oh, darling. Vincent is only half the story.”
She finally looked up, eyes gleaming. “The other half… is me.”
---
Elara leaned forward.
“You see, Elena, men like Vincent don’t get to where they are by playing nice. He didn’t build his empire—he stole it. Piece by piece. Betrayal after betrayal. And somewhere along the way, he convinced himself he could control everything. Even you.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Elena said.
Elara smirked. “You should be. But you should fear me more.”
She reached into her purse and slid a small envelope across the table.
Elena hesitated before picking it up. Inside was a photo. Grainy. Dimly lit. But the people in it were unmistakable.
Vincent and Elara.
In bed.
Together.
Elena’s stomach turned.
It wasn’t the act that shocked her—it was the date on the bottom corner.
Three weeks ago.
Elena’s hands tightened on the photo. “Why are you showing me this?”
Elara leaned back, sipping her coffee like it was wine. “Because I want you to understand that no matter what you think this marriage is—it’s not real. You’re a name. A contract. A leash to keep Vincent from making another mistake.”
“I don’t believe you,” Elena said coldly, slipping the photo back inside.
“Oh, you should,” Elara whispered. “Because while you’re playing wifey in silk dresses, I’m the one he still wants in the dark.”
The words sliced like knives.
But Elena didn’t flinch.
“You think this scares me?” she asked. “You think a photo is going to make me run?”
“No,” Elara said, lips curling. “But I think it’ll make you question whether you’re sleeping next to a man or a monster.”
A long silence.
Then Elara stood, towering in heels that clicked like gunshots across the marble.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Elena. You’re not the first girl he’s ruined. And you won’t be the last.”
---
That night, Elena didn’t sleep.
She stared at the photo under the dim glow of her bedside lamp.
She hated it.
Not because it made her jealous—though something sharp twisted in her stomach when she looked at it—but because she didn’t know what was real anymore.
Had Vincent truly moved on?
Had he ever left Elara in the first place?
And if not… then what the hell was this engagement?
Was she just another pawn in a much larger game?
---
The next day, she confronted him.
No games. No polite smiles. No soft words.
She stormed into his office at Russo Enterprises, past his assistant, past the guards, and slammed the envelope onto his desk.
He didn’t even flinch.
“Where did you get this?” he asked quietly.
“Does it matter?”
His jaw clenched. He opened the envelope, eyes narrowing at the image.
Then, to her surprise—he laughed.
Low. Bitter. Dangerous.
“That woman never knows when to quit.”
“So it’s real?” Elena asked, voice tight. “Three weeks ago, Vincent?”
“She set me up,” he said darkly. “She came to one of my private properties uninvited. Drugged a glass of whiskey, staged the whole damn scene. I woke up with her in bed and a camera across the room.”
“And you’re just now telling me this?”
“I didn’t owe you the truth back then.”
“And now?”
He stood, walking toward her slowly. “Now? I don’t owe you anything. But I’m giving it anyway.”
His eyes were stormy. Unforgiving.
“I ended things with Elara a long time ago. But she doesn’t let go easily. She’s manipulative. Obsessive. Dangerous.”
“And you let her stay close.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Because I was watching her,” he said. “Waiting for her to slip. You don’t burn someone like her without proof. And now I finally have it.”
Elena crossed her arms. “So what are you going to do?”
He leaned in, voice dropping.
“Kill her reputation. Freeze her accounts. End every contract she has in this city. I warned her not to come near you.”
Elena’s heart skipped.
“Why?”
“Because I meant what I said,” he whispered. “You may hate me, Elena. You may not trust me. But I protect what’s mine.”
- Writer
