The Don's Favorite lover Vanished (by Melissa Z) novel Chapter 2

**The Story of a Girl Who Loved a Man Made Entirely of Secrets 2**
**Chapter 2**

I pressed the power button on my phone, silencing the relentless buzz of notifications.

Seventeen encrypted messages from Vincenzo. Not a single one warranted a response from me.

At precisely two o’clock in the afternoon, the door to my studio burst open with a force that sent a shiver down my spine.

Marco, Vincenzo’s ever-loyal right-hand man, charged in, flanked by four of his intimidating associates.

“Miss Chiara,” Marco greeted, his tone deceptively polite, yet I could see his hand resting casually on the butt of his gun. “The Boss has requested your presence.”

Without lifting my gaze from the canvas before me, I replied, “Tell your boss I’m currently occupied.”

His expression hardened slightly. “I’m afraid this isn’t a request, Miss Chiara.”

I set my brush down, feeling a surge of defiance. “So, you’re resorting to force to drag me back?”

Marco’s silence spoke volumes; he didn’t bother to deny it. “The Boss’s orders. I advise you not to make this unpleasant.”

Twenty minutes later, the car rolled to a stop in front of the imposing Russo family estate, a place that once felt like home but now loomed over me like a prison.

As I was “escorted” to my former art studio, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, mingling with dread.

When the door swung open, I was struck dumb.

The room was barren.

All my cherished paintings, easels, vibrant tubes of paint, even our solitary photograph together…

Every trace of my existence had been meticulously erased. The walls were stripped bare.

In their place, lavish Russian-style decor adorned the space, gaudy and cold.

Dominating the center of the wall was a massive oil painting.

There stood Katerina, draped in a flowing white dress, her smile radiant and angelic.

“Do you like it? Katerina chose it herself,” a voice drawled from behind me.

It was Vincenzo, impeccably dressed in a tailored Brioni suit that accentuated his commanding presence.

Katerina clung to his side, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkling with innocence.

“Vincenzo,” she chimed sweetly, “it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Chiara. He talks about you all the time! Says he couldn’t possibly manage the family’s ‘dirty work’ without you. That must be quite a burden to bear.”

The way she emphasized “dirty work” was laced with mock sympathy, her face a perfect mask of feigned concern.

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