Rival Hearts

It’s mid-morning in New York, and the streets are busy. Livia Conti is in the backseat of her black sedan, going through paperwork on her lap. She frowns and mumbles to herself as her eyes move quickly over the lines of legal jargon before her. Toro, her driver and long-time protector from the Conti family, glances at her through the rear view mirror. He was used to her talking to herself, but today she looked a lot more disgusted, and this grabbed his attention. “What’s on your mind, signorina?” Toro asks, his voice mixed with interest and concern. Livia sighs, not looking up from the papers. “It’s this contract I’m reviewing. The client’s clean on paper, but I dug a little deeper. His criminal record is... extensive, to say the least. Smuggling, extortion, a few close brushes with murder charges.” Toro’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he stays silent, hands steady on the wheel through midtown traffic. He knows better than to pry into Livia’s work, especially with these clients. His expression says enough. “I don’t know why they handed me this case,” Livia murmurs, flipping the page. “It feels off. Like there’s something bigger going on here.” “The world isn’t as clean as it looks,” Toro says quietly as he pulls up to the curb outside her law firm. He quickly gets out of the car and moves to her side to open the door. Livia gets out, still focused on her documents, and hands him her coffee cup and a small stack of folders. “Let me help you with that.” “Thank you, Toro,” Livia says as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She walks briskly toward the building entrance. As they enter the lobby of the firm, they’re immediately approached by Jessica, one of Livia’s coworkers, who was rushing down the hall holding her phone in her hand. “Livia, you’re finally here!” Jessica says, slightly out of breath. “Charles has been here for an hour, and he’s been nagging the whole time about your timing. He’s already in the conference room waiting for you.” Livia rolls her eyes but manages a polite smile. “Of course he is. Thanks, Jess. I’ll head in now.” As Jessica hurries off, Livia gives Toro a quick nod. “You can leave the coffee and folders here. I’ve got it from here.” “Be careful with that client,” Toro says, lowering his voice slightly. “Bad history or not, they don’t just hand you cases like this for no reason.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Livia replies, her voice calm but her thoughts still racing as she heads toward the elevator. The doors slide shut, leaving her alone with her thoughts. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Something about this case isn’t right—but there’s no turning back now. As the elevator hums, Livia shifts her papers, preparing for the unavoidable talk with Charles. Just as she relaxes, her phone buzzes. Seeing ‘Papa’ on the screen, she hesitates, then declines the call. Not now. She pockets her phone and exhales slowly. No time for her father’s lecture today. She’d deal with it later. The elevator doors open with a soft ring, revealing the busy, firm floor. Livia steps out, her heels clicking on the polished floor. She heads to the conference room, already sensing Charles’ impatience. She opens the door to find Charles Moriarty, senior associate, leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone. He had this slicked-back graying hair, and the scent of his expensive cologne filled the room. He barely glances up as she enters. "Nice of you to finally join us, Conti," he drawls, his eyes still glued to his phone. "I suppose it takes you a bit longer to get ready in the morning, huh? Must be tough balancing makeup and contracts." Livia’s grip on her folder tightens, her jaw tightening for a split second. But she doesn't flinch. She never does with men like Charles. "Good to see you too, Charles," she says, her voice as smooth as ever. “But maybe if you spent more time reading the contract instead of staring at your reflection, you’d have noticed I’m not late. The client isn’t even here yet.” Charles glances up at her, clearly surprised by the sharp retraction, though he tries to cover it up with a forced chuckle. “Feisty this morning, aren’t we?” Livia drops her folders on the table with a solid thud. “I don’t tolerate disrespect, Charles. I’m here to work, and so are you. So let’s stick to the contract and leave the commentary out of it.” His smile fades slightly, but he straightens up in his chair. “Right. Of course. All business.” Livia sits across from him, her eyes cold but composed. She opens the folder, focusing on the case. The tension lingers. Charles may have rank, but she won’t be talked down to—not by him, not by anyone. Just as she starts organizing her thoughts, the conference room door creaks open. Both of them look up, expecting the client. But it’s not just the client. It’s something—or someone—much worse. The Conti Family Estate, Sicily. The sun shone over the Conti estate. Giovanni Conti, in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, stood on the marble balcony, overlooking the grounds. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and faint espresso. Giovanni checked his watch, worry creeping into his features. He had tried calling Livia, but she hadn’t answered. “Is she busy again?” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. His gut twisted with unease. Livia had become his whole world since her mother passed away, and the thought of losing her too was unbearable. Antonio, his trusted consigliere, approached from behind, smoothing his suit jacket. “We should head out soon, Giovanni. The meeting won’t wait.” Giovanni nodded, still distracted. “I just wish she’d pick up. You know how it is—sometimes I worry she’s too deep in her work.” Antonio placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Giovanni. Just like her mother. She’ll be fine.” “Maybe you’re right,” Giovanni replied, forcing a smile. But the worry still remained. He had seen too much darkness in this world, and he hated the idea of Livia being caught up in it. With a deep breath, he stepped back from the balcony and headed downstairs, Antonio close behind. At the entrance, a sleek black sedan waited. Giovanni paused, taking in the estate that had been both home and prison. He climbed into the car, the cool leather seats against his back. Antonio joined him, and the driver started the engine. ‘Let’s go,’ Giovanni said, trying to shake off his distress. He glanced back at the house, hoping Livia was alright. Marco stood on the balcony, arms crossed, watching the fleet of cars leave. A smirk spread across his face, a shadow behind his calm exterior. Once the last car vanished, he turned and stepped back into the estate hallway. “Time to play my hand,” Marco whispered to himself, his voice low and chilling. He knew secrets that could disentangle everything, and he was ready to use them to his advantage.