We arrive back at the office after a few minutes of driving, the hum of the city a distant noise through the car windows. The sun is setting, casting a golden hue over the glass buildings and turning the streets into a labyrinth of shadows. I walk into my office, the familiar scent of polished wood and the faint aroma of coffee lingering in the air. I take my seat behind my mahogany desk, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders.

I'm about to open a document and start reading when I feel the cold press of metal against my neck, the sudden chill sending a shiver down my spine.

"Hello, krasivy," Ivan's voice rasps, his foul breath fanning across my skin, making my stomach churn.

"Hello, Ivan," I reply, my voice steady despite the fear knotting in my chest. I reach for my gun in the drawer but stop as he speaks again.

"Do not even think about it," he warns, taking my gun with a casual ease. "I have missed you like crazy these past few weeks. Did you miss me?"

I turn to look at him, lifting a brow at his question. He just laughs, a dark, sinister sound that makes my blood run cold.

"A scowl doesn't suit you, honey. You should only show me that beautiful smile of yours," he says, fully spinning my chair around to face him. His eyes lock onto my face, and he gasps.

"You're even more beautiful than when I last saw you," he murmurs, pressing the gun to my cheek and slowly running it across my skin. My heart pounds in my chest, but I force myself to remain still, not showing the fear threatening to consume me.

He trails the gun down my chest, using it to push my blazer off my shoulders. I stare at him, wondering what his plan is, my mind racing with possible escape routes.

"Don't look at me like that. I came here to kill you, but seeing this beautiful body go to waste without having a taste doesn't sit well with me."

"I'd rather die than let you lay a finger on me," I snap, shooting out of my chair as I realize his intent.

He tuts a mocking sound. "If only words held that much power. Take off your clothes."

My heart slams into my chest, and my eyes widen in disbelief. "I said, fucking take off your clothes!"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Panic clogs my throat, and I close my eyes, desperately trying to think of a way out of this nightmare. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Ivan curses.

I shoot my eyes open, only to shut them again as blood splashes onto my face. Ivan's lifeless eyes stare at me as he falls onto me, but within seconds, his weight is lifted off. My eyes widen as I see who is standing in front of me. I freeze, unable to believe my eyes.

"Luce del sole," the person calls softly, and tears fill my eyes. Stefano stands before me, his presence almost too surreal to comprehend. I blink my teary eyes a few times, trying to clear the image, but he remains.

"I have missed you, mi amore," Stefano says, closing the gap between us and pulling me into a hug.

A sob escapes my lips, my tears muffled by his chest. His scent, one I have missed and longed for these past weeks, hits me hard, causing more tears to slip. "Are you real?" I cry.

"I am real, mi amore," Stefano assures, pulling back to place his warm hands on my bloody face. I try to speak, to ask him how, but I choke on my words. All I can do is release more tears of joy as I realize the love of my life is standing in front of me. He is not a hallucination; he is real.

"How?" I finally manage to ask after a minute, my voice trembling.

"It's a long story, mi amore, and I have all the time in the world to tell you," Stefano says, pulling me into another hug. I hold him tight, never wanting to let go again, my heart swelling with a profound relief that brings fresh tears to my eyes.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up," Stefano murmurs. Gently, he pries my hands from his shirt, capturing one in his warm, solid grip as he guides me toward the restroom. Each step feels surreal, my mind still reeling from the shock of his miraculous return.

In the harsh fluorescent light, Stefano lowers the toilet seat and urges me to sit. I comply, my legs suddenly weak and unsteady. He reaches for a tissue, his movements efficient yet tender as he begins to wipe away the sticky, crimson evidence of Ivan's demise from my skin.

"I can do it," I protest feebly, reaching for the tissue. But Stefano stops me with a look, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness that steals my breath.

"Let me do it," he insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. Meekly, I lower my hands, allowing him to continue his ministrations.

Once he's satisfied, Stefano leads me to the sink. With infinite care, he washes away the remaining blood from my face and neck, his touch a silent promise of devotion. As the water swirls down the drain, tinged pink with the remnants of my ordeal, I feel a weight begin to lift from my shoulders.

Hand in hand, we exit the restroom and make our way out of my office. Before leaving, I pause to instruct Emily to call Santiago for assistance with the grim cleanup awaiting in my office. She nods, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and relief at the sight of Stefano by my side.

A car is waiting for us outside, Samuel's familiar figure visible through the tinted windows. As we slide into the backseat, I turn to him, my voice trembling with a desperate need for reassurance.

"Is he real, Samuel?"

Samuel meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, a rare smile softening his usually stoic features. "I was as shocked as you are, ma'am, but he is real."

Beside me, Stefano lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to my fingers. "I am real, mi amore," he affirms, his eyes shining with adoration.

I say nothing, unable to tear my gaze from his beloved face as the car carries us away from the chaos. My grip on his hand never wavers a lifeline, tethering me to this new reality where the impossible has become beautifully, breathtakingly true.

We drive to the Costanzo Hotel, and as we step into the opulent lobby, my heart races with anticipation. Stefano's warm hand envelops mine, a silent reassurance as we make our way to the elevators. The mirrored doors slide open, revealing a plush interior that whisks us away to the penthouse suite.

Settling into the lavish living room, I turn to face Stefano, my eyes searching his for answers to the questions that have plagued me since his miraculous return. "How?" I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

Stefano's gaze softens, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "I am here with you, my love, because of Vladimir's mother."

"His mother?" I echo, disbelief coloring my tone.

"Yes, she saved me," he confirms, his fingers lacing with mine. "When I was kidnapped, Vladimir's mother was the one who took care of me. I noticed he mistreated her, and I promised her if she got me out, I would take her away from Vladimir and keep her safe."

My brow furrows, trying to comprehend the depths of cruelty that would drive a mother to betray her own son. "How badly did he treat his own mother for her to turn against him?"

Stefano's expression darkens a flicker of anger in his eyes. "If he claimed to love you and almost beat you to death, imagine what he would do to the woman who killed his father."

"Why did his mother kill his father?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"His father used to abuse his mother," Stefano explains, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Confusion clouds my features. "If his father was an abuser, why would Vladimir hate his mother for killing him?"

"His father might have been a monster, but Vladimir adored him," Stefano sighs, shaking his head. "His father made him believe that using your fists is the best way to make a woman do what you want."

Disgust twists in my gut at the thought of such a twisted worldview. "Wow, he must have treated his mother really badly if he believed his father's lies."

Stefano nods solemnly. "Yes, he did. That's why she accepted my offer and helped me escape."

Relief floods through me, gratitude for the brave woman who risked everything to save the man I love. "I am so happy she did, but I'm still a little confused," I admit, my mind grappling with the pieces of the puzzle.

"About what, my dear?" Stefano prompts gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand.

"Now I understand how you escaped, but why did Vladimir fake your death?" The memory of the gruesome video flashes through my mind, the anguished screams that couldn't possibly have belonged to the man before me. I am sure they probably photoshopped his face into the video.

Stefano's jaw clenches a flicker of pain in his eyes. "He faked my death because he wanted my family to think I was dead so they would stop trying to find me."

"Why is that?" I press, trying to understand the twisted logic.

"He needed my family to believe I was dead so that he could torture me forever," Stefano explains, his voice strained.

I shake my head, struggling to comprehend such cruelty. "He didn't have to fake your death for that."

"Actually, he did," Stefano counters, his gaze intense. "As long as I am alive, my family would stop at nothing to find me."

"Yeah, that's true, but making your family believe you were dead just made him a bigger enemy to the Costanzo family. They would have stopped at nothing to kill him."

Stefano nods grimly. "Yeah, he already had people who would take over even if he died."

"He hated you that much?" I whisper, my heart aching for the pain Stefano must have endured.

"Yes, he did," Stefano confirms, his eyes haunted by the memories.

A horrifying thought occurs to me, my stomach churning. "Wow, Vladimir is one fucked up guy. Did he burn someone alive in place of you?" The screams from the video echo in my mind, too real to be faked.

Stefano shakes his head. "No, he didn't. The grunts you heard were mine, but they burnt a body that was already beaten to death."

Relief mingles with revulsion at the depths of Vladimir's depravity. "At least he wasn't crazy to the extent that he would burn someone alive just to fake your death."

"Yeah, he wasn't," Stefano agrees, his gaze softening as he takes my hands in his. "But enough about him. I want to apologize to you, mi amore."

Surprise flickers through me. "For what?"

Stefano's eyes shine with sincerity, his thumb caressing my knuckles. "For the pain I caused you because of our breakup. I thought it was the right thing to do. I am sorry I put you through such pain."

Emotion swells in my chest, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "You don't need to apologize. You did it to protect me," I assure him, squeezing his hand.

A smile tugs at Stefano's lips, his eyes filled with adoration. "I am truly blessed to have an amazing woman like you."

He cups my face in his palms, his touch gentle and reverent. "Be mine again," he breathes, his forehead resting against mine.

"I am yours," I whisper, sealing my promise with a tender kiss.

As we part, Stefano's eyes shine with love. "I love you," he declares, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," I echo, my heart soaring with the knowledge that our love has triumphed over even the darkest of trials.