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The hum of the kitchen ventilation system suddenly sounded like a roaring engine. For five agonizing seconds, nobody moved. The air between Matteo and Bianca was thick enough to choke on, charged with a voltage that threatened to short-circuit the entire building. / Chapter 13 / 20

Chapter 13 - The Resurgence of the DocksThe expansion of Bellini Logistics into the trans-Pacific shipping lanes required more than just corporate capital; it required raw operational grit. By Thursday morning, Matteo found himself standing on Pier 42, the salty ocean wind whipping his dark hair as massive gantry cranes lifted forty-foot shipping containers onto the decks of Sterling Maritime vessels.

Carlo, who had temporarily stepped away from the kitchen to help oversee port logistics for the new supply chain, walked up beside him, wiping grease from his hands with a shop towel.

“The unloading schedule for the Tokyo shipment is running twenty minutes ahead of target,” Carlo said, shouting slightly over the roar of a diesel engine. “Your mother sent me with a thermos of espresso and a warning not to skip lunch.”

Matteo smiled, taking the warm metal thermos from Carlo’s hand. “Let me guess—she checked the inventory numbers before you left the diner?”

“Down to the last crate of imported San Marzano tomatoes,” Carlo laughed. “She’s unstoppable, Matteo. Even with the Vane family breathing down our necks, she’s expanding the diner’s evening menu next week. Word is, the mayor booked a table for Friday night.”

Matteo looked out across the harbor, watching the massive container ships glide silently toward the open ocean. He thought about where he had been six months ago—trapped in a suffocating engagement, bound to a woman who viewed human beings as disposable commodities, living a life designed entirely for the approval of elites who cared nothing for real work.

Now, standing on the docks built by honest labor and protected by genuine loyalty, he felt a profound sense of absolute liberation.

“Let them come,” Matteo muttered quietly to the wind.

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“What was that?” Carlo asked, turning his head.

“Nothing,” Matteo replied, screwing the lid back onto the thermos with a firm snap. “Just thinking about dinner.”

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