Episode 5: The Locked Room

Three days had passed since the attack, and Damien hadn’t spoken a word to her. Not a single glance, not even a cold warning.

Elena told herself she preferred it that way. Silence meant safety. Yet every time footsteps echoed down the hall, her pulse jumped—hoping it was him.

The mansion had returned to its eerie calm, but something about it felt wrong. The guards were tense. Luca’s smirk had vanished, replaced by restless eyes that followed her every move.

That evening, while wandering through the endless corridors, Elena heard a faint sound—music. A soft piano melody drifting from behind a locked door. It was beautiful, haunting, filled with pain.

She followed the sound, her curiosity stronger than fear. The door was half-open. Inside, dust motes floated in sunlight, and at the piano sat Damien. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the scar on his forearm catching the light.

For the first time, he didn’t look like a mafia lord. He looked… human.

Elena didn’t mean to speak, but the words escaped. “I didn’t know you played.”

Damien froze. The last note hung in the air, trembling between them.

“How did you get in here?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“The door was open.” She met his gaze. “You should lock it better if it’s your secret.”

He stood slowly, his expression unreadable. “Everyone in this house knows not to come here.”

“I’m not everyone.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “No. You’re trouble.”

She stepped closer, eyes falling on a photo frame on the piano—two young boys, smiling. One of them was Damien. The other looked exactly like him, but softer, lighter. “Who’s this?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

“Your brother?”

He took the frame from her hand, placing it back carefully. His voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s dead.”

Elena’s breath caught. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at her, eyes colder now. “Don’t be. He died because of me.”

Before she could respond, the door burst open. Luca stood there, hands in his pockets, his smile sharp as glass. “Boss, we’ve got a problem.” His gaze slid to Elena. “Again.”

Damien’s eyes hardened. “What is it?”

“One of our men turned rat. Cops are sniffing around the docks. We might have to move… her.”

Elena felt the weight of his words. Move her. Like cargo. Like property.

Damien’s tone was steel. “No one touches her without my word.”

Luca’s smile didn’t fade, but his eyes flashed with something darker—jealousy, maybe hate. “Of course, boss. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When he left, silence returned. Damien’s fingers brushed the piano once more, the melody starting again—slow, broken, almost like a memory.

Elena stood there, heart aching, realizing two things at once.

One: Damien Rossi was not just dangerous—he was wounded.

And two: Luca wasn’t just an enemy in waiting—he was a storm ready to explode.

She looked at Damien’s back and whispered to herself,

> “You’re not the devil, are you? You’re just a man trying to forget.”

But even as she said it, she knew the truth—