The Next Morning — Lorenzo's Villa.
The pale morning light filtered through the half-open curtains, gently caressing Chloé's face. Lying on the large bed, her hair spread around her like a dark halo, the young woman was still asleep, motionless, her complexion almost ghostly pale. Her lips were dry, her eyelashes still damp with old tears. She hadn't opened her eyes for hours. The day before, after the tragedy at the hospital, Marco had brought her back here, to the villa, and hadn't left since. He had watched over her all night, his heart heavy.
The bedroom was drowned in a suffocating silence, the kind that comes before emotional storms. But downstairs, that silence was shattered. Heartbreaking sobs echoed through the living room, filling the villa with painful grief. News of Lorenzo's death had already spread like wildfire. The morning newspapers screamed across the front pages: "Carlo De Santis' Son Assassinated." The entire city was talking about nothing else.
On the couch, Rosa, Lorenzo's mother, her face devastated by tears, sobbed uncontrollably. Across from her, Carlo paced back and forth nervously, the newspaper crumpled tightly in his hands. His red eyes betrayed a sleepless night and utter disbelief.
Every word printed on that paper struck him straight in the heart.
Rosa (crying hysterically)
— I want to see my son… I can't believe it… No, I refuse to believe it! Give me back my Lorenzo, give me back my child!
Her cries echoed through the room. She trembled violently, gasping between sobs. Helpless, Carlo approached her and pulled her tightly into his arms.
Carlo (voice trembling)
— Rosa… please keep yourself together. Stay calm… everything will be alright…
Rosa (sobbing)
— Everything will be alright?! Carlo, our son just died! How do you expect me to stay calm?! I knew it… I always knew one day I would lose him…
Carlo lowered his eyes, unable to say another word. He was hurting too. His heart was bleeding, but he had to stay strong for her. Tears slid uncontrollably down his cheeks as he held his wife even tighter.
That was when the living room door slowly opened. Marco stepped inside, his face closed off, his features exhausted by grief and fatigue. At the sight of the shattered couple, he felt his own chest tighten painfully. He closed the door behind him and walked forward slowly.
Marco (politely, quietly)
— Good morning…
Rosa jumped to her feet and rushed toward him, her fingers trembling.
Rosa (cutting him off desperately)
— Marco! Where is my son? I want to see him! Take me to him, I'm begging you!
Marco (voice shaking)
— Please calm down, ma'am, I…
Carlo (interrupting, eyes red)
— Marco, how did all this happen? Tell me the truth. How is it possible that I learn about my son's death from newspapers? Who shot him? Lorenzo was in trouble again, wasn't he? Was it one of his enemies?
Marco (trying to stay calm)
— Please… stay calm. I'll investigate. I'll find out who did this, I promise you…
Rosa (screaming through tears)
— What's the point?! My son is gone! What good will the truth do me now?! I want my child back, Carlo… Bring me back my Lorenzo!
Carlo closed his eyes, overwhelmed. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do. All he could do was hold his wife helplessly in his arms, praying this pain would one day fade.
Deeply shaken, Marco lowered his head.
Marco (broken voice)
— I'm going upstairs to check if Chloé's awake.
Upstairs, Chloé's room was bathed in soft light.
Suddenly, a faint whimper broke the silence. She had just opened her eyes.
For a moment, she remained lying there, staring blankly at the ceiling. The blurred memories of the previous day refused to surface. Then, little by little, everything came back: the ambulance sirens, the blood on her hands, the doctor's voice:
"The patient has passed away… my condolences."
The words exploded in her mind like a gunshot. Her eyes widened. Her breathing stopped.
Chloé (screaming)
— NOOOOOOOO!
She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding wildly, her hands trembling violently. Tears immediately flooded her face.
The door burst open a second later.
Marco rushed in, panicked.
Marco (frantic)
— Chloé! Are you okay? How do you feel?
But the young woman wasn't listening. She looked around frantically, terror filling her eyes.
Chloé (broken voice)
— Lorenzo… Where's Lorenzo? Where's my husband, Marco? I want to see him! I had a nightmare, right? Tell me he's okay… tell me he's okay, please!
Marco no longer knew what to say. Silence crushed the room, heavy and suffocating. Then the door slowly opened again. Lorenzo's parents entered, their faces devastated by tears, their features destroyed by grief.
In that instant, Chloé understood.
It wasn't a nightmare.
It wasn't an illusion.
It was reality.
Cruel, brutal, unbearable reality.
Her body started trembling violently. She slid out of bed, nearly collapsing. Her legs no longer seemed capable of holding her weight. Still dressed in her boyfriend jeans and sweater from the previous day, hair messy, heart beating uncontrollably, she slowly approached Rosa. Her tear-filled eyes searched desperately for a sign, a lie, a spark of hope.
Chloé (crying)
_ Mother-in-law… it's not true, right? Tell me it's not true… Please… Lorenzo is okay? He… he… he…_
The words died in her throat, strangled by sobs. Her breathing became uneven, her shoulders shaking violently. Rosa, unable to stay still, rushed toward her and wrapped her tightly in her arms.
Rosa (crying)
_ Be strong, sweetheart… be strong…_
But Chloé suddenly pulled away, her eyes now burning red with pain and anger. Her gaze snapped toward Marco.
Chloé (screaming)
_ Take me to my husband, Marco! I want to see my Lorenzo! I WANT TO SEE HIM RIGHT NOW!_
Marco slowly approached her, afraid one wrong word would shatter her completely. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her trembling body.
Marco (calmly)
_ Chloé, you're not okay… please try to stay calm. You need to be strong… for yourself, and for your baby._
Chloé, Rosa, and Carlo (shocked)
_ Baby???_
Marco nodded, eyes lowered.
Marco (softly)
_ Yes… I found out yesterday at the hospital that you're pregnant, Chloé. Three months pregnant._
Chloé (crying)
_ Pregnant…? No… I… I need to tell Lorenzo! He has to know! Take me to him! He'll wake up when he finds out he's going to be a father… he… he…_
Her voice shattered again. Her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the floor, hands trembling violently, sobs tearing through the silence. Rosa stepped toward her, but Carlo grabbed her hand to stop her.
Carlo (sadly)
_ Leave her, Rosa… let her cry. She needs to let the pain out._
Rosa nodded painfully before leaving the room, followed by Marco and then Carlo.
Silence returned, even heavier than before.
Now alone, Chloé slowly got to her feet. Her eyes landed on the bedside table. There, inside a frame, was a picture of Lorenzo.
She approached hesitantly, picked up the frame with trembling hands, and sat on the floor against the cold wooden bedframe. Her fingers traced the frozen image of his face.
Chloé (crying)
_ Come back to me, Lorenzo… come back to me, my love… I refuse to believe you're dead… You had no right to do this to me… You promised you'd stay when my father died… You swore you'd never abandon me…_
Her words dissolved into endless tears.
Chloé (broken voice)
_ You're all I have, my love… only you… What am I supposed to become without you?_
The picture trembled in her hands as her cries blended with the wind softly moaning through the half-open window. In that room, everything seemed frozen in time.
Only pain remained alive.
And while she cried out every tear left in her body, on the other side of a luxurious mansion, inside a vast cream-colored living room with golden reflections dancing across giant windows, her mother sat comfortably on a leather couch. A glass of champagne in hand, she wore a cold, perfectly controlled smile. At her feet, her right-hand man had just delivered the news she had been waiting for.
Chloé's mother (a predatory smile curling her lips)
— Finally, some good news after all this time. Now that man is dead, getting close to my daughter will be much easier. You did a good job.
The man — the very one who had shot Lorenzo — stood calmly in front of her. His face remained expressionless, though a dangerous smile crossed his features.
Man (low, deep voice)
— Everything went perfectly, madam. I'll tell Carlos to make contact again. The girl will need comfort after such a tragic loss. Carlos will do what's necessary to bring her back without raising suspicion… no unnecessary violence.
Chloé's mother narrowed her eyes in satisfaction. There was nothing maternal in her smile. It was pure calculation.
Chloé's Mother (commanding tone)
— Very good. I want to see her as soon as possible. I don't have time to waste anymore.
The man reassured her confidently.
Man (reassuringly)
— Don't worry, boss.
A Few Hours Later.
Lorenzo's Villa.
Night had already swallowed the villa. Darkness made the massive house even quieter, as though the grief inside it absorbed every sound. The air itself felt heavy with sorrow. Lorenzo's parents and Marco had left. Chloé had demanded to stay alone, locking herself in an icy isolation to contain the storm raging inside her.
Sitting on the living room couch, still wearing the same wrinkled clothes from the day before, Chloé clutched Lorenzo's photo tightly against her chest. Her fingers trembled; her messy hair caught the dim glow of the lamps. Her face, hollowed by tears, carried a pain so sharp it crushed her chest. Yet beneath that pain, something darker was growing — a black rage, silent and ready to erupt.
Chloé (inner voice, breathless)
— He killed him… I saw it. I saw that man shoot Lorenzo and I couldn't do anything. Why him? Why did they take him from me? Why?
Her body shook with sobs, but these weren't only tears anymore. They were fragments of fury washing through her alongside love and horror. She pressed the photo harder against her heart until the paper nearly bent.
Chloé (whispering, jaw clenched)
— I won't let him get away with this. I swear to you, my love. He'll pay. I'll find him and make him suffer for what he did to you… even if I have to become a murderer myself._
The last sentence escaped like a broken breath — neither scream nor prayer, but a cold promise.
She wiped her tears away roughly and stared blankly at Lorenzo's photo one last time before gently placing it on the couch. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly stood up, as if fueled by a violent burst of energy.
Her fingers trembled as she dug into the pocket of her sweatpants. She pulled out Lorenzo's phone — the one she had kept since yesterday — and turned it on. Without hesitation, she found Marco's number and called him while pacing through the living room, heart pounding wildly.
A few seconds later, Marco's voice echoed through the phone.
Marco
_ Hello? Chloé? Is that you?_
Chloé (calm but firm, voice tight)
_ Marco, we need to meet. Now. I want to understand what happened to my husband._
Marco (surprised)
_ What are you talking about? Are you okay?_
Chloé (cutting him off, colder)
_ I said I want to see you. Come to the villa. Right now._
Without waiting for an answer, she hung up and threw the phone onto the couch. Her breathing broke apart as tears started falling again, burning and uncontrollable. She collapsed back onto the couch, grabbed Lorenzo's photo, and caressed it gently as though touching it could bring him back.
Chloé (broken voice, almost whispering)
_ My love… forgive me. If only you hadn't come to pick me up from Val's place… maybe none of this would've happened._
Her voice vanished into silence. She closed her eyes, her chest so tight it hurt to breathe.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound made her jump violently. She stood frozen for a few seconds, staring blankly toward the door before slowly getting up. She placed the photo down, wiped her soaked cheeks, and walked to open it.
On the other side stood Valentina, eyes red and swollen, tears streaming freely down her face. Beside her, Carlos wore a dark expression, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
Val (crying)
_ Sweetheart… I just heard the news. I'm so sorry._
Chloé didn't even have the strength to answer. She collapsed into Valentina's arms, bursting into tears again. Val held her tightly, gently stroking her hair while whispering words Chloé could barely hear.
Val (softly, trembling voice)
_ I'm here, babe. You're not alone, okay?_
Chloé (choking through sobs)
_ Val… Lorenzo's gone. He's gone… everything happened so fast… I still can't believe it…_
The two women stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a long moment, their tears mixing together. Eventually, Chloé pulled back, eyes swollen and empty of all light.
Carlos hesitated before stepping closer. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder as though grounding her.
Carlos (regretful voice)
— I'm really sorry about your husband… he and I got off on the wrong foot, but that doesn't change the pain. It's… it's tragic._
Chloé broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably. Her chest shook violently, her head barely staying upright. Carlos stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. She nearly collapsed against him, desperately needing support. He held her tightly against his chest, his fingers running once through her hair in what seemed like comfort — a soft gesture, though strangely too intimate for the moment.
Carlos (whispering, too calm)
— Come on, beautiful, stay strong. I'm here for you. You can count on me. Everything's gonna be alright._
Slowly, Chloé pulled away, eyes red, chest still trembling from tears. Her voice was shattered.
Chloé (broken voice)
_ Thank you… thank you for the support. I don't want to seem cold, but I need to be alone, please._
Val, still standing beside them, straightened up, worried.
Val (insistent)
— No, wait, babe. You can't stay alone like this. You won't make it._
Chloé (trembling)
_ Don't worry, I'll… I'll manage._
Carlos (calmly)
— Listen, Val, Chloé. Let us stay with you._
Chloé exhaled weakly, as if every word drained what little strength she had left.
Chloé (faintly)
_ I'm sorry, Carlos, but I really want to be alone… I…_
Val (firmly)
— No. I'm staying here with you. Carlos, you can go home._
Val's eyes locked onto Carlos with cold authority. He nodded without arguing, though his smile seemed strange, unnatural somehow. He stepped toward Chloé and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead — a gesture meant to feel protective, yet it left her uncomfortable, almost as though the contact had been calculated. Then he turned and walked away without another word.
Chloé slid back down onto the couch. After locking the door, Val joined her and gently ran trembling fingers through her tangled hair.
Val (eyes glistening)
— Tell me what happened… I don't understand any of this. I read that… they shot him twice in the back._
A sob escaped Chloé's throat, sounding more like a muffled scream.
Chloé (crying)
— They killed him, Val… I saw it. It was a masked man. I was waiting for Lorenzo to come in and open the door, and then I saw this guy with a gun behind him. I didn't even have time to warn him. Everything happened in a split second._
Val shook her head sadly, throat tight.
Val (heartbroken)
— Poor Lorenzo… he was grumpy, but he was a good man. He didn't deserve this. Did he have enemies? Do you know anything?_
Chloé stared back at her with empty eyes, though a dark flame now flickered beneath her grief.
Chloé (strained voice)
— I don't know yet. But I'll find out. I swear to you, I'll make him pay. I swear it._
Curious and worried, Val asked quietly:
Val
— Did you see the body?_
Chloé shook her head immediately, as if even imagining it repulsed her.
Chloé (between sobs)
— No… I collapsed when they told us. Marco was there. I woke up at the house today… they probably brought me here. My in-laws are supposed to go to the hospital to claim the body. I'll go tomorrow… even though deep down, I still can't believe it. It's impossible that he died in that operating room._
Val gently rubbed Chloé's shoulder, deeply uncomfortable in the face of such overwhelming pain.
Val (soft but realistic)
— Even if it's hard, you need to accept it… and try to move forward. Try to keep living…_
Chloé slowly lifted her red eyes toward her. Her face had hardened, carved entirely from rage.
Chloé (cold, restrained voice)
— Never. I will never live without him. If he's dead, it's partly my fault. If he hadn't come to get me, maybe none of this would've happened._
Val stiffened instantly, rejecting that absurd guilt.
Val (firmly)
— No. You're not responsible. The only guilty person is the one who pulled the trigger. He's the one who deserves to—
Chloé cut her off. Her voice had become sharp, icy, almost unrecognizable.
Chloé (eyes burning)
_ Die. That son of a bitch deserves to die… and I'll take care of him myself._
Val frowned, a silent alarm flashing across her face. Chloé's words were no longer just grief — they were a dark promise. In her eyes, Val saw something terrifying: the cheerful Chloé she knew was gone. In her place stood a woman hollowed out by hatred, ready to feed herself with vengeance.
Val's hand trembled against the back of Chloé's neck.
Chloé looked emptied of every emotion except rage. Her face was frozen, her features hard as stone. Tears still streamed endlessly down her cheeks, but they were cold tears now, bringing no comfort. Beside her, Val continued stroking her hair with anxious tenderness, friendship acting as a shield while fear twisted in her stomach at the sight of her best friend slowly falling into darkness.
To be continued…