Chapter 4 - THE GHOST FROM THE ASHES
"Get up," Lucas commanded softly, sliding one strong arm securely around Nadia’s back and the other beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly off the marble floor despite her pregnancy.
Nadia let out a small gasp, instinctively gripping the lapels of his vest as her body pressed against his chest. She could feel the violent, heavy thud of his heart—a rhythm matching her own frantic pulse.
"Lucas! Put her down this instant!" Bianca shrieked, hysteria finally cracking her polished facade. She stepped forward, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Nadia. "If you take one step with that filthy peasant, our engagement is over! Do you hear me? The Rossi family will pull every ship, every dock, every political tie! You will be ruined!"
Lucas stopped. He didn't turn around immediately. He simply tilted his head back slightly, his storm-gray eyes fixing on Bianca through the reflection of a nearby mirror.
"Your father’s docks?" Lucas’s voice was disturbingly calm. "The ones you think are secured by your family name?" He tilted his head the other way. "Dante."
From the shadows of the doorway, Dante stepped forward, holding out a thick, secure tablet. "It’s done, Boss. As of four minutes ago, the federal seizure warrants for the Rossi shipping lines have been executed. Every illicit ledger, every offshore account, and every bribe receipt your father hid in the Cayman Islands has been handed to the Federal Prosecutor."
Bianca’s knees buckled. The color completely drained from her face, leaving her looking like a corpse draped in red silk. "N-No... that’s impossible. You couldn't have... my father—"
"Your father was a footnote, Bianca, the moment you picked up those shears," Lucas said coldly. He turned his body slightly, looking at her with absolute disgust. "You thought Nadia was unprotected. You thought she was a widow with no name, no family, and no power."
Lucas’s gaze dropped to the lock of hair still clutched in his fist, then back to Bianca.
"Nadia Petrova isn't a servant," Lucas announced, his voice carrying clearly to every single corner of the stunned ballroom. "She is the rightful owner of half the Falcone empire, the holder of the Rossi family debt, and—most importantly—my legally wedded wife."
A collective wave of absolute shock crashed through the room. Whispers erupted into sheer chaos. Society women clutched their chests; capos dropped their glasses.
Nadia froze in his arms, her breath catching in her throat. Wim... wedded? She stared up at him in sheer disbelief. "Lucas... what are you saying?"
Lucas looked down at her, a strange, profound softness breaking through the cold armor of his face. "Three years ago, before the fire, before the lies, before your husband's 'accident' orchestrated by the very people standing in this room... we signed papers protecting your family's estate. I searched for you every day after the warehouse burned, Nadia. And when you walked back into my house disguised as a maid to find the truth about your brother... I knew. I knew the moment you stepped through those doors."
"You... you knew?" Nadia whispered, tears spilling over her lashes.
"I knew everything," Lucas said quietly. "And I let you stay because I wanted to keep you safe under my roof while I gathered the evidence to destroy everyone who ever touched you. I just..." His jaw tightened, a flash of pure self-loathing crossing his features. "I was one minute too late to stop her from touching your hair."
Bianca let out a broken, animalistic sound of pure rage and terror. "You manipulated me! You brought her here to trap us!"
"You trapped yourself the moment you decided cruelty was your favorite weapon," Lucas said flatly.
Before Bianca could lunge forward, four armed guards materialized from the shadows, their heavy hands clamping down firmly on her shoulders.
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"Take her out of my sight," Lucas ordered. "Lock her in the eastern holding cell until federal marshals arrive to collect her and her father."
"Lucas! You can't do this! I am Bianca Rossi!" she screamed, her voice echoing down the grand hallway as she was dragged away, kicking and thrashing in her designer gown until the heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, cutting off her shrieks for good.
