The Heiress Reclaims Her Empire

Gianna POV

Rossi looked at Elena, then at the guards, and finally down at his tablet.

"The door was unlocked twenty minutes ago," Rossi said. "By a master keycard assigned to Miss Elena."

"She let herself in," I stated.

"Yes," Rossi confirmed. "And the system logs are cryptographically sealed—they cannot be altered retroactively."

"Was the Don inside the room when she entered?" I asked.

The guards stationed by the door shifted their weight from one foot to the other, the leather of their holsters creaking softly.

"No, Miss Gianna," the head guard said. "The Don hasn't been on this floor all evening."

I looked back at Elena.

She was staring at the floor, her knuckles bone-white as she gripped the jacket.

"Let us review the facts," I said, my voice carrying down the length of the carpeted hall, its only accompaniment the low hum from the ventilation grilles.

"You used a master keycard to enter a private room. Alone. You found my fiancé's jacket. You put it on. And you walked out just as I arrived, telling me not to misunderstand."

A soft chime announced the elevator's arrival, the sound cutting cleanly through the strained air.

Enzo appeared, flanked by two massive Syndicate enforcers, emerging from the polished steel enclosure.

Enzo stopped next to me, his gaze, sharp as a stiletto, taking in the scene.

"Consigliere," I said without looking at him. "Has the Don authorized anyone to enter his private suite tonight?"

"No," Enzo said. "The Don was in the bunker negotiating a weapons trade. He hasn't left my sight, and he is stepping off the elevator right now."

Elena let out a soft, pathetic sob, a single, calculated tear tracing a path down her flushed cheek.

"I didn't think you would mind," Elena cried, looking at Enzo for sympathy. "I was just cold."

"Your words were designed to breed suspicion," I said, stepping closer to her. "You manufactured a scandal from nothing."