Chapter 15: Hidden Lies
Hazel stood at the window long after Enzo had left her room. The message still burned in her mind, its words etched like a threat into her thoughts.
He's lying.
She wanted to dismiss it, to believe it was nothing but a cruel ploy by one of Enzo's enemies, someone trying to shake her confidence, make her doubt. But the timing... the tone... it was too calculated. Too direct.
And it felt personal.
She pulled the phone from her pocket and opened the message again, rereading it for the third time.
I know where you are. You're not safe. He's lying.
There was no number, no sender ID—just a burner account. Anonymous. Untraceable.
Hazel's hands trembled as she opened a blank message, typed:
Who are you? What do you know?
She hovered over "send," but stopped herself. If Enzo was watching her messages—and a part of her suspected he was—she couldn't risk it. Not yet.
With a deep breath, she slid the phone back into the drawer of her nightstand and turned the key in the small built-in lock. If she was going to figure this out, she needed to be smart.
And subtle.
The next morning, the sun rose behind heavy clouds. The air was cool, the skies threatening rain. Hazel stood in front of the tall mirror in her bedroom, trying to choose something that didn't scream "I might be spying on my mafia boyfriend."
She settled on a simple slate-gray sweater dress and ankle boots. Comfortable, practical. She left her hair loose and freshened her face just enough to look casual.
By the time she reached the kitchen, Enzo was already seated at the head of the long breakfast table, flipping through documents with a cup of black coffee in hand. Marco, ever the silent sentinel, stood nearby speaking quietly into an earpiece.
"Morning," Hazel said as she approached.
Enzo looked up and smiled, eyes briefly scanning her face. "Sleep okay?"
She nodded and took the seat beside him. "Better than I expected."
He reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "I was thinking… we could visit the vineyard today. Just you and me."
Hazel's eyebrows lifted. "Vineyard?"
"My family owns one outside Florence. Private estate. We haven't had visitors there in years, but it's quiet. Remote." He paused. "Safe."
The word lingered in the air like a challenge.
Hazel took a bite of toast, chewing slowly. "Sounds... nice."
Enzo leaned back. "I think you'll love it. There's something about the land there—it feels real. Like the world slows down."
She met his gaze, searching for any flicker of deception. But all she saw was sincerity.
Still, she felt it. That seed of doubt, planted by a single message.
"Sounds perfect," she replied. "Let's go."
The drive to the vineyard took nearly two hours. They took a long, winding route through the countryside, trading skyscrapers for cypress trees, steel for stone. The sun peeked through the clouds just as they reached the gates of the estate.
Hazel leaned forward, gazing out the window.
The vineyard was stunning.
Rolling hills covered in rows of perfectly aligned grapevines stretched into the distance. A rustic villa perched at the highest point, its terracotta roof glowing in the golden light. It was picturesque—straight out of a postcard.
Enzo parked the car outside the villa and opened the door for her. Hazel stepped out, her boots crunching on the gravel. She took a deep breath, the air crisp and laced with the scent of grapes, earth, and wildflowers.
"This place is beautiful," she murmured.
"It was my mother's favorite," Enzo said. "She used to bring me here when I was little, before things got... complicated."
Hazel turned to look at him. "What happened to her?"
He paused, eyes drifting toward the hills. "She died when I was thirteen. Assassinated by one of my father's rivals."
Hazel's stomach twisted. "Enzo... I'm so sorry."
"She wasn't part of the mafia. Not really. She married into it, thinking she could handle the shadows. But shadows swallow everything eventually." His voice was quiet. Hollow.
Hazel reached for his hand. "You're nothing like your father."
He looked at her then, a storm brewing in his eyes. "No. But sometimes I wonder if I'll ever truly escape him."
Later that afternoon, Enzo left to take a call in one of the old wine cellars, leaving Hazel alone on the villa's stone terrace. She sat at a weathered table with a journal and pen, trying to quiet her thoughts.
But curiosity clawed at her again.
She opened her phone and unlocked the drawer's message app she had downloaded that morning—completely off the books, encrypted, untraceable.
The message was still there.
Her fingers hovered for a moment before she typed:
If you know something, tell me now. Who is lying?
A moment passed.
Then two.
Then the screen flickered with a reply.
There are cameras in the villa. In your room. In the library. Even by the pool.
Hazel's heart stopped.
He's watching everything. You think you're free, but he's already chosen who you'll become.
Hazel's fingers trembled as she stared at the words. She glanced around the terrace, suddenly hyperaware of the air, the silence.
Another message appeared.
Check behind the mirror in the bedroom. Then decide who you trust.
She quickly closed the app and tucked the phone into her sweater, her heart thundering in her chest.
That night, back at the mansion, Hazel made her way into her room, her stomach knotted with tension. Enzo was still downstairs handling a phone call. The staff had retreated to their quarters. The house was quiet.
She stood in front of the tall mirror, her fingers brushing its ornate edges.
Then she noticed it—barely a seam, almost invisible. Her fingers found a small notch at the base, and she pressed it.
Click.
The mirror popped forward slightly.
Hazel's breath caught.
Inside was a hidden compartment—lined with velvet. And mounted in the center?
A small black camera lens.
Staring directly at the bed.
She stumbled back a step, her hand covering her mouth.
Her phone buzzed again.
Now you know. Do you still believe in him?
Hazel's entire body trembled as she stared at the lens, realization crashing over her.
This wasn't paranoia.
This was real.
Someone had been watching her.
And she had no idea who to trust anymore.