Chapter 153: The Beginning of a Family War

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[Lorenzo Castelli]

When Lorenzo stepped into his study, he felt the warmth from his earlier conversation with Alex settle into an oddly soothing place in his chest.

It was a tenderness that he almost wished he could hold onto a little longer before diving into the grim tasks waiting on his desk.

He had left Alex upstairs with a gentle kiss on his forehead and promised him breakfast. He didn’t mention that the meal would probably be enough to feed an army.

After everything Alex went through during his heat, Lorenzo thought it was only fair to have a ridiculous amount of food on hand. The alternative? Watching his husband try to get by on nothing but a cup of tea and a bit of spite.

But, of course, the world didn’t pause just because Lorenzo was enjoying this new sense of domestic happiness.

His study was already occupied when he arrived. Timothy stood by the desk, flanked by three trusted men near the windows.

The curtains were drawn halfway against the morning sun, bathing the room in soft, muted gold. The polished desk was cluttered with folders, photographs, and printed surveillance records, all arranged in a way that felt unsettling yet precise.

Timothy straightened up as Lorenzo walked in.

"Don."

Lorenzo nodded slightly in response, then shrugged off his jacket and settled into his chair. He moved slowly, maintaining a composed expression, and his posture didn’t give away the fact that he had just spent an hour comforting the man he loved while he cried about a childhood Lorenzo rarely let himself remember.

"Give me the update."

"Right," Timothy replied, placing a folder in front of him. "We’ve confirmed several names linked to the gala attack. Two of the men who went into the hotel have ties to intermediaries outside of Italy, and the financial trail is starting to clear up. We’re still trying to figure out who gave the final go-ahead, but it seems this attack was planned months before the gala."

Lorenzo opened the folder and examined the photographs, his expression unchanged.

"And what about Volpe?"

"Still piecing that together, but there are enough inconsistencies to suggest his people might know more than they’re letting on."

Lorenzo turned a page, briefly resting his fingers on a photograph of one of the men identified near the hotel.

The door opened, pulling his attention from the folder.

Nikolai entered with his usual calm demeanor, stepping up to the desk and bowing slightly.

"Don Castelli."

"Nikolai." Lorenzo acknowledged him, then motioned to the empty chair across from him. "I trust you’re feeling better after your rut?"

The question sounded almost casual, like a friendly exchange between men who had worked together for a while.

But Lorenzo kept a close eye on him as he asked; he had learned that even the smallest hesitation could reveal more than a grand confession if you knew what to watch for.

Nikolai’s face remained neutral.

"Yes, Don. I’ve rested up and I’m ready to get back to work."

"Good. I’d hate to see you collapse in the middle of this investigation. Timothy would just grumble about the paperwork."

Timothy shot him a glance. "I complain about the paperwork anyway, Don."

"Then at least we won’t have to worry about messing up your routine."

One of the men by the window cleared his throat, sounding suspiciously like he was trying to stifle a laugh, while Nikolai gave a polite smile.

The moment passed quickly, which is maybe why Lorenzo kept observing Nikolai.

Nikolai had always been good at presenting himself as the most level-headed guy in the room, a quality Lorenzo once deemed essential in someone handling sensitive tasks.

But now, he found himself paying closer attention to the pauses in his speech, wondering if the smoothness he’d admired for months sometimes hid things he should’ve questioned.

"Did you find what I asked for?" Lorenzo asked.

"Yes."

Nikolai produced a tablet from under his arm and set it on the desk, turning the screen toward Lorenzo as he opened a folder of surveillance footage.

"The original recordings came from a private security system near the hotel. The timestamps match up with two separate sources, and the image quality is good enough for identification."

Lorenzo looked down.

The first clip showed a bustling Paris street on the day of the gala, with pedestrians moving under the pale afternoon sun and cars inching along.

A dark vehicle pulled to the curb, and a man got out from the passenger side, wearing a long coat and dark scarf.

Before the man even turned his face to the camera, Lorenzo recognized his shoulders.

When the image focused, there was no doubt.

Dante.

His older brother stood outside a building not too far from the hotel, talking to someone whose face was hidden from the camera angle.

The exchange lasted under two minutes before Dante glanced down the street and walked away, blending into the crowd with that same confident stride Lorenzo remembered from their youth.

Another clip showed him entering a café near the hotel later that afternoon, and in a third, he stood by the dark car, where a man opened the rear door for him.

The footage was clear enough to prove that Dante had indeed been in Paris on the day of the attack, too close to the hotel for it to just be a coincidence.

For several seconds, Lorenzo couldn’t move.

He knew his relationship with Dante was broken beyond repair, and he had stopped expecting any warmth from a brother who had long viewed his survival as an affront.

He accepted the hatred and bitterness that trailed him through the Castelli estate, realizing some wounds simply didn’t heal and some people preferred to keep them fresh.

But this was different.

Dante had known what the attackers were planning. If the evidence eventually confirmed Lorenzo’s suspicions, his brother hadn’t just plotted against him; he had put Alex directly in the path of people who wanted to use him for their own gain.

Alex, who had fought so hard for the right to make his own choices, would have been reduced to a pawn in someone else’s game.

Lorenzo’s grip on the edge of the desk tightened, yet his face remained impassive.

He remembered Alex in their bedroom that morning, his eyes glistening as he told Lorenzo he wasn’t a monster.

That memory should have warmed him, but it only intensified the disappointment in his chest, since he had foolishly allowed himself to believe there might be something left of his family worth saving.

He never expected Dante to love him.

But he had expected his brother to realize the difference between their mutual hatred and the innocent lives caught in the crossfire.

Apparently, that was too much to hope for.

"How sure are we?" Lorenzo finally asked.

"Sure he was there," Nikolai replied. "Not certain what he was up to or who he spoke to afterward. We’re tracking the vehicle and trying to identify the person who was with him."

"And the guy in the second video?"

"We haven’t confirmed his identity yet."

Lorenzo replayed the last clip in his mind, memorizing Dante’s movements, the tilt of his face, and that moment he turned toward the hotel. He felt no urge to throw the tablet; he didn’t feel the need to shout, because anger was never Lorenzo Castelli’s problem.

It was what he did with that anger that scared others.

He switched off the tablet and set it back on the desk.

This wasn’t a mere coincidence that Dante would be in Paris at the time Alex and Lorenzo were there.

"Continue to keep this investigation under wraps. I want more of every financial transaction connected to Dante examined... payments made through intermediaries, private companies, and any accounts that don’t seem to link to him. Find out who he met in Paris, where he stayed, and if he had any communication with DeLuca before or after the gala."

Timothy frowned, "...Deluca, sir? Is he a suspect as well? He would have been a victim of the bombing as well at the gala. Could he really be a part of this as well?"

Lorenzo chuckled, how narrow-minded for a bodyguard.

"Just do it."

"Yes, Don."

The Don clearly remembered seeing Deluca leaving the gala with his Omega arm candies a few minutes after Alex went missing.

Now pray tell, why would a man who loved parties to death leave hours before the function ended?

Almost as if he knew something was going to happen.

Timothy nodded. "And if the evidence proves Dante was behind the attack?"

Lorenzo lifted his gaze.

"Then we’ll figure out just how much he knew before deciding what to do next."

His response was calm, even mild, but Timothy had worked with him long enough to sense the underlying threat in that tone.

Lorenzo wouldn’t rush into a confrontation just because he had a reason to despise his brother even more. He wanted to expose the entire operation, identify everyone involved, and block any potential escape routes before they became aware of the investigation.

Then... kill them.

If Dante was indeed responsible, Lorenzo would ensure he could never threaten Alex again.

And if DeLuca was the one pulling strings, he’d soon find that the Castelli family wasn’t the only one capable of turning a well-laid plan into a messy graveyard of mistakes.

"Keep going," Lorenzo directed, reaching for another folder. "I need answers before anyone gets the chance to cover their tracks."

As the men returned to their tasks, Lorenzo glanced out the window, where the morning light gently bathed the garden.

As a plan formed in his mind.