Fated reborn - Chapter 213: Chapter 213

Luciano pov.
The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. The kind that lingers when two people are lost in their own thoughts but still find some kind of peace in each other’s presence. I watched the city lights blur past the window, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between us.
Victor kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. I smirked, shaking my head as I leaned back in my seat.
“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?” I said, my voice cutting through the silence.
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
I chuckled, stretching my arms. “Not when it’s this entertaining.”
Victor rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. That was enough confirmation for me. I could read him like a book, and right now, the pages were screaming Clara’s name.
“You’re going to have to do something about it eventually,” I added, my tone a little more serious this time.
Victor sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t even know what ‘it’ is. I just—” He stopped himself, gripping the wheel tighter before relaxing. “Forget it.”
I watched him for a second before looking back out the window. The truth was, I understood him more than I let on. Feelings had a way of creeping up on you, making a mess of things when you least expected it. And when you were someone like Victor—someone who liked having control over everything—those feelings became even harder to deal with.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence, the weight of our thoughts keeping us company. By the time we pulled up to the house, the sky had darkened, the only light coming from the dim glow of the porch lamp.
I stepped out of the car, stretching as I took in the cool night air. Victor followed, locking the doors behind him before we made our way inside.
The house was quiet, the faint ticking of the clock the only sound greeting us. It was late, and everyone else had probably turned in for the night.
I tossed my keys onto the counter before making my way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Victor leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched me.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I took a sip of water, eyeing him over the rim of the bottle. “What plan?”
He sighed, pushing off the doorway. “Don’t play dumb. The company. The Henry situation. You know, the thing that’s been making you act like a bear with a sore paw all day?”
I exhaled slowly, setting the bottle down. “I don’t know yet.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration creeping in again. “No, I don’t. Every logical part of me is saying to just go with it, use Henry’s strategies and keep things running smoothly. But another part of me—the part that actually gives a damn about what we’ve built—hates the idea of relying on him.”
Victor nodded slowly, as if he understood. And maybe he did.
“You’re too caught up in the fact that it’s Henry’s ideas,” he finally said. “If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t think twice about it.”
He wasn’t wrong. I hated admitting it, but he wasn’t wrong.
“I just don’t trust him,” I muttered.
Victor shrugged. “Then don’t. Trust the results instead.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “You make it sound so simple.”
He smirked. “It usually is. You just like to make things difficult.”
I shook my head, finishing the rest of my water before tossing the bottle into the trash.
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” I said, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in. “Right now, I just need sleep.”
Victor nodded, pushing off the counter. “Yeah. Me too.”
We both headed upstairs, parting ways at our rooms. The moment I stepped inside, I felt the weight of the day settle over me. Shrugging off my jacket, I loosened my tie and collapsed onto the bed, letting out a long breath.
For a few minutes, I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing even though my body was begging for rest.
Clara. Henry. The company.
It was a never-ending cycle of thoughts, looping over and over until exhaustion finally won.
The next morning, I was up before my alarm, my body too used to the routine to sleep in. I showered quickly, letting the hot water chase away the last remnants of sleep before getting dressed.
By the time I made it downstairs, Victor was already at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Morning,” he greeted without looking up.
“Morning,” I muttered, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee.
I took a sip, sighing as the caffeine started working its magic.
“Anything new?” I asked, nodding towards his phone.
He glanced at me, then back at the screen. “Just the usual. Clara sent over some reports. Nothing urgent.”
Clara.
I hummed, taking another sip. “And how’s Clara this morning?”
Victor shot me a look over the rim of his cup. “Really?”
I grinned. “What? Just making conversation.”
He shook his head, setting his cup down. “You’re insufferable.”
“Thank you.”
Before he could retaliate, my phone buzzed on the counter. I grabbed it, frowning when I saw the message.
It was from Clara.
*We have a problem. Call me when you’re free.*
The lightheartedness from earlier vanished instantly. I straightened, already dialing her number.
She picked up on the second ring. “Sir,” she greeted, her voice tense.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
She hesitated for a second before speaking. “It’s Henry. He—” She stopped herself, taking a breath. “He did something. And I don’t think it’s going to be good for us.”
I exchanged a look with Victor, my jaw tightening. “I’m on my way.”
Hanging up, I grabbed my jacket, already heading for the door. Victor was right behind me.
“Guess we’re not getting a quiet morning,” he muttered.
I scoffed. “Did we ever?”
With that, we stepped outside, the weight of whatever was waiting for us already settling over my shoulders.
And I had a feeling this was just the beginning.