It's been a few days since we arrived in California, and Stefano has been working tirelessly to uncover who is responsible for the devastating warehouse fire. I took some time off work to be by his side, offering support and assistance in any way I can. But despite my best efforts, Stefano has been coming home late each night, spending long hours at the office.

As I lay in bed, I toss and turn, finding it impossible to drift off without the comforting warmth of Stefano's arms around me. It's surprising how quickly I've grown accustomed to his presence, to the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

Restless, I climb out of bed and pad downstairs, thinking a glass of warm milk might help soothe my racing thoughts. But as I descend the stairs, I freeze, hearing unfamiliar voices emanating from the living room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up - something isn't right. Stefano would have turned on the lights if he had brought guests over, but the house is shrouded in darkness.

My heart hammers in my chest as I start to turn back, intending to retrieve my phone from the bedroom. But before I can take a step, a blinding pain explodes in the back of my head. I reach up instinctively, my fingers coming away slick with blood.

Dizziness washes over me in nauseating waves, and I struggle to make sense of what's happening. My vision blurs, the edges darkening as I fight to stay conscious. Questions swirl in my mind - who are these people, what do they want, where is Stefano?

But before I can form a coherent thought, the darkness closes in, dragging me under. As I slip into unconsciousness, one last desperate plea echoes in my mind.

Please let Stefano find me before it's too late.

***

I open my eyes, blinking against the throbbing pain radiating from the back of my skull. As my vision clears, the first person I see is Ivan, looming over me with a sinister smirk twisting his once-handsome features. Confusion and dread war within me as I try to lift my hand to touch my aching head, only to realize I'm bound tightly to one of the dining room chairs, my limbs secured with rough ropes that chafe against my skin.

"It's good of you to finally join us, krasivyy," Ivan purrs, his voice dripping with false sweetness. He's seated on the couch, flanked by five menacing men. My eyes dart to the elevator, where I see the crumpled forms of Stefano's guards lying motionless on the floor. A chill runs down my spine as the reality of my situation sinks in.

"What is the meaning of this, Ivan?" I demand, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why are you here, and why am I tied up?"

Ivan leans forward, his eyes glinting with malice. "How do I explain this to you, krasivy? I think I'll start with my name. It's not Ivan. Let me reintroduce myself - I'm Vladimir Aleksander."

The name hits me like a physical blow, my blood turning to ice in my veins. "That's impossible," I whisper. "Stefano killed you years ago." Vladimir Alesksander is the name of the former Kazan gang leader.

Ivan's laugh is harsh and grating. "He tried, but he failed. I survived the fire he left me to die in."

My mind reels, trying to make sense of his words. "Even if you survived, your body should be covered in scars."

"Amazing what modern medicine can do, isn't it? Plastic surgery works wonders. It's why even your precious Stefano couldn't recognize me. He had no idea all this time."

Bile rises in my throat as the pieces fall into place. Stefano's instinctive distrust of Ivan. I curse myself for being so blind.

"I can't believe I was foolish enough to be friends with you."

"Don't blame yourself, honey," Ivan says, as if reading my thoughts. "There's no way you could have known. The picture of the leader of the Kazan gang that Stefano must have shown you looks nothing like what I look like now ."

Anger flares within me, temporarily eclipsing my fear. "Was this your plan all along? To kill me to hurt Stefano?"

Ivan shakes his head. "No, I genuinely wanted your friendship, even after I learned of your connection to him. My issues with Stefano are separate from my feelings for you."

I scoff in disbelief. "Then explain the attempt on my life months ago, on the way to the airport."

"That wasn't meant for you," he says, almost apologetically. "My men thought Stefano was in the car that day."

As much as I loathe to admit it, his explanation rings true. The pieces fit. Ivan must have had eyes on Stefano's every move.

"So you're saying I'm not part of your vendetta against Stefano?" I ask, testing the bonds at my wrists.

Ivan's expression softens. "No, you're not. You're the love of my life, Andrea."

Revulsion churns in my gut. "If you love me, why the hell am I tied to a chair?"

"I can't risk you running off to call Stefano while we have this conversation."

I grit my teeth, fury, and disgust warring within me. This man, who has caused Stefano so much pain, has the audacity to profess his love while holding me captive. I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life from him for hurting my baby.

"So tell me, Ivan story Vladimir," I spit, "what do you want?"

He leans in close, his breath hot against my cheek. "I'm giving you a chance, Andrea. Leave Stefano. Be with me instead."

A harsh bark of laughter escapes me. "Are you high? What makes you think I would ever choose you, knowing who you really are?"

Ivan's face contorts with rage. "Did you just call me crazy?" He stands abruptly, towering over me.

I tilt my chin up defiantly. "Come closer," I whisper. As he leans in, I gather all my strength and shout directly into his ear. "You're insane if you think I would ever be with you!"

The slap cracks across my face, snapping my head to the side. I taste blood in my mouth, but I refuse to let the pain show. Stefano will be home soon. He'll make this bastard pay for daring to lay a hand on me. I can't believe he was stupid enough to harass me in Stefano's penthouse.

"Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?" Ivan roars, spittle flying from his lips. "I love you, but that doesn't give you the right to disrespect me!"

I spit a glob of blood at his feet. "You claim to love me, but you use your filthy hands to hurt me. You don't know the first thing about love."

His face twists into an ugly mask of fury. "Why do you keep provoking me? I don't want to hurt you, Andrea!"

"You can't love someone and abuse them in the same breath, you psychopath!" I scream, straining against my bonds.

Another slap, harder this time. My vision blurs, tears stinging my eyes.

"I'll give you one last chance," Ivan seethes. "Come with me willingly, or die. If I can't have you, no one can."

Summoning the last of my courage, I look him dead in the eye. "I would rather burn in hell than be with you." I gather all the moisture in my mouth and spit directly in his face.

Ivan recoils, wiping at his cheek with a snarl. "Then you've sealed your fate." He nods to one of his men, who steps forward with a sadistic grin.

The first punch lands on my left cheek with a sickening crack. Pain explodes through my skull as my head whips to the side. Before I can catch my breath, another blow strikes my stomach, driving the air from my lungs.

I try to curl in on myself, but the ropes hold me fast. The punches rain down, each one more brutal than the last. I lose count after the tenth strike, my world narrowing to a haze of agony.

Dimly, I'm aware of my own screams echoing off the walls, the warm trickle of blood down my face. The beating seems to go on forever, punctuated by brief respites where they check my pulse. Each time I start to slip into the blessed relief of unconsciousness, I'm dragged back by a fresh wave of pain.

Finally, mercifully, the blows stop. Through the red mist of my suffering, I hear Vladimir's voice, distant and mocking.

"Last chance, Andrea."

With the last ounce of defiance left in my broken body, I rasp out my reply.

"Go... to... hell..."

The final punch slams into my temple, and the world goes black.