The silence in the room was louder than any scream.
Hayden leaned back in his leather chair, watching Ana pace. Her heels tapped the floor like a ticking bomb. Every few steps, she would glance at him like he was something venomous—coiled and ready to strike.
She didn't say a word at first.
Just threw the phone across the desk.
The screen lit up again, mid-video—Enzo Moretti laughing with Alexander Nicholas, cigar smoke curling between them like a pact written in poison.
Hayden's jaw tightened. But he didn't flinch.
"Say something," Ana said finally, her voice shaking.
"I didn't know."
"Liar."
His eyes darkened. "I *didn't* know, Ana."
"You've been watching me for two years. You've built a file thicker than a goddamn novel on my life. And you're telling me you missed this?"
Hayden stood slowly. "That footage was intercepted last week."
"And you didn't think I deserved to know?"
"I didn't think it mattered."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
He came around the desk, his expression unreadable. "Whether they're allies or enemies doesn't change the fact that your father had my mother killed."
"You don't know that anymore."
"I *do*," he snapped, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I *saw* it. I *lived* it. I buried her."
"But what if it wasn't just him?" Ana's voice cracked. "What if this was all planned—by both of them?"
Hayden's silence was answer enough.
"You said this was about revenge," she whispered. "About justice for your mother."
"It is."
"Then tell me what the hell this is." She pointed at the screen. "Because this looks like a setup. A game. And we're the pawns."
Hayden looked away.
Ana stepped closer. "You're being played, Hayden."
"So are you."
The words hit her like a slap.
He looked at her then—truly looked. And for a moment, the cold exterior slipped. Just enough.
"They used us," he said quietly. "Our pain. Our grief. They made monsters, and then set us loose to finish their war."
Ana's heart pounded. "Then stop it. Walk away."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
His eyes locked onto hers, fierce and wild. "Because I don't know who I am without the war."
The admission landed like a knife.
And Ana finally understood.
He wasn't just seeking revenge. He was *built* by it. Molded into something sharp and cold and cruel—designed by men who wore suits instead of uniforms and built their empires on blood.
Ana reached into her coat and pulled out Clara Rossi's photo. Slid it across the table.
"She trusted you," she said. "Just like I did."
Hayden didn't move.
"I don't want to end up like her," Ana continued. "Another ghost in your file."
"You won't."
"How do I know that?"
"Because I can't lose you now," he said softly.
It should have made her melt. But instead, it made her angry.
"Then prove it."
His gaze sharpened. "How?"
"Let me help you bring them down."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
"You want to go after your father?" he asked.
"I want the truth. All of it. Not the version you gave me. Not the story they told you. I want the whole, ugly truth."
"You're asking to step into hell."
"I'm already there."
He stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing something heavy.
Then he nodded.
"Fine."
Ana's breath caught.
"We do this my way," he said. "No half-measures. No flinching. No forgiveness."
She didn't hesitate. "Good."
Hayden moved toward her, but slower this time. His hand brushed her waist, the touch almost reverent.
"You surprise me," he said. "Every time I think I've broken you, you rebuild yourself stronger."
"That's the thing about being underestimated," she whispered. "It keeps the wolves comfortable."
A corner of his mouth lifted—almost a smile.
But it wasn't over.
Not even close.
—
Later that night, Ana sat alone on the terrace, staring at the city lights. Her fingers ran over Clara's photo again. She had memorized every line of the girl's face.
She couldn't save her.
But maybe she could save herself.
Behind her, the door opened.
Hayden stepped out, a file in his hand.
"I had Matteo dig deeper," he said. "Into my father's private properties. Offshore accounts. Encrypted messages. There's a pattern."
He laid the file beside her. Maps. Photos. Logs. And at the center—an island.
"What's this?" Ana asked.
"Where they meet," he said. "Where they built the lie."
Ana's throat went dry. "When do we leave?"
Hayden's eyes were cold steel. "Tomorrow."