What I Don't Feel

Feelings are a weakness.

They always have been.

I learned that too early to have any doubts.

Paolo Salvatore Rigone, 32 years old

My name is Paolo Salvatore Rigone. I'm thirty-two. The firstborn son of the Salvatore family, CEO of the companies that carry our name, and... the Don of the Famiglia Salvatore, the organization that controls far more than legal business in Italy.

I wasn't born to feel.

I was born to command.

I took over from my father at twenty-one. Ricardo Salvatore was always a direct man — never believed in half-measures or slow preparation. One day he simply called me to his office, put a glass of whiskey in front of me, and said:

"It's time."

No ceremony. No lengthy explanation.

And I accepted.

Because I was ready.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Ricardo Salvatore and Carmela Rigone (parents of Paolo, Pietro, and Luna)

My mother, Carmela Rigone, was the only person who ever tried to preserve something human in me. She always said that power without a heart was too dangerous.

I never agreed.

A heart clouds decisions.

And wrong decisions get people killed.

I have two siblings.

Pietro Salvatore Rigone, 28 years old

Pietro, four years younger than me. Vice president of the companies, my right-hand man, and the family's consigliere. He's the only one who talks to me without measuring his words. The only one who challenges me when he thinks it's necessary.

And the only one I truly trust.

Luna Salvatore Rigone, 24 years old

And Luna...

My baby sister.

My weakness.

I hate admitting that. But it's the truth.

She was always different from us. Lighter. More... alive. While Pietro and I were shaped for control, Luna was always shielded from it.

Until the day the world showed us that protection is never enough.

She was sixteen when she was kidnapped.

Ten days.

Ten days of silence, threats, negotiations... and a fury inside me that I'd never felt before.

I nearly set all of Italy on fire.

Every minute without news was a death sentence.

Every phone call was a gamble.

And when we finally had a lead... I was no longer the same man.

Lutero was the one who found her.

Lutero Russo

Twenty-nine years old. Son of my father's former consigliere. Grew up alongside us. Always loyal, precise... lethal.

He found Luna.

And after that...

He hunted.

One by one.

Without hurry.

Without mercy.

I saw what he did.

And I never stopped him.

Because they deserved it.

Because no one touches my sister and keeps breathing.

Luna came back.

Physically intact.

But broken inside.

That light that had always been in her... dimmed.

Then came months of silence, breakdowns, sleepless nights. Depression settled in like a constant shadow, and neither I, nor Pietro, nor our mother could pull her out.

That was when we decided to let her go.

Brazil.

Exchange program.

An attempt to give her something none of us ever could: peace.

But I'm no fool.

And I'm not a careless Don.

She was never alone.

Lutero went with her.

Without her knowing.

A constant shadow. An invisible guardian.

And he never failed.

I know how he looks at her.

I've always known.

The way his eyes change when she walks into a room. His silence when she speaks. The way his body reacts — as if every word of hers carries weight.

He thinks I don't notice.

But I see everything.

Lutero is in love with my sister.

And perhaps... he always has been.

He's never crossed a line. Never tried to get closer than allowed. Respect.

For me.

But that doesn't change the fact.

And if there's one person in this world I'd consider worthy of her...

It's him.

Not just for what he's done.

But for who he is.

Loyal. Strong. Relentless.

And above all... trustworthy.

I know Luna feels something too.

Before, she was too young to understand.

Now...

She's old enough to choose.

And this... inevitably, is going to happen.

Four years.

Four years since she left.

And today...

Graduation.

I didn't want to come.

Social events don't interest me. Parties are pointless. Fake smiles, empty conversations, people trying to impress one another.

But Luna asked.

And for her...

I came.

We sponsored the event. It was the least we could do.

Besides, it made strategic sense. Presence, image, influence.

Everything always has a purpose.

Even when it seems not to.

The ballroom was exactly what I expected: excessive. Too much luxury trying to mask collective insecurities.

People laughing too loudly.

Drinking too much.

Living a moment that, to me, meant nothing.

Until I saw her.

First, Luna.

She looked different.

Lighter.

More... happy.

Something inside me relaxed when I noticed that.

Maybe Brazil had done what Italy couldn't.

Beside her, Pietro was talking to someone, attentive as always.

And then...

I saw.

Her.

Maria Cecilia.

I didn't know the name yet.

I just saw.

And for some reason that still irritates me...

I paid attention.

She wasn't like the others.

She wasn't trying to draw attention.

She didn't need to.

There was something in the way she moved. Contained. Observant. As if she were always calculating the space around her.

But at the same time...

There was strength.

In her eyes.

In her manner.

Something that didn't match fragility.

I looked away.

It didn't interest me.

It shouldn't interest me.

And yet...

When I stepped onto the stage to present the diplomas, I knew she was there.

Waiting.

Watching.

When they called her name, I finally heard it.

Maria Cecilia Santana.

She walked toward me.

Firm steps.

Controlled.

But I noticed.

The tension.

The care.

As if every movement were deliberate.

She raised her eyes.

And our gazes met.

That was when it happened.

A shiver.

Quick.

Intense.

Unexpected.

I don't react like that.

I've never reacted like that.

But for one second...

Something slipped out of control.

She felt it too.

I saw it.

In the slight recoil.

In the shift of her breathing.

In the look that tried to stay steady but faltered for an instant.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I handed over the diploma.

Our fingers touched.

And the shiver returned.

Stronger.

I held steady.

She didn't.

She pulled her hand away too quickly.

"Congratulations," I said.

My voice came out normal.

Controlled.

As always.

"Thank you," she answered.

Quiet.

But firm.

She held my gaze a second longer than she should have.

Then she walked off the stage.

I followed her with my eyes.

Without realizing.

"What was that?"

Pietro's voice beside me snapped me back.

"Nothing."

But that wasn't true.

Because for the first time in a long time...

Something had stirred.

And I couldn't say what it was.

And that...

I don't like.

Nothing I don't understand... stays in my life for long.

And in that moment, I'd already made a silent decision.

Maria Cecilia Santana...

Was not just another face from that night.

And I was going to find out exactly why.

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