Quicksand of Fate

Dr. Vittorio Belardi adjusted his tie as he stepped out of the elevator into the private corridor of Lorenzo Accardi's apartment. Located in one of the tallest buildings in the city, it boasted sweeping views of the capital, a luxury reserved only for those who could afford it

Vittorio couldn't help but reflect on the irony of the situation. The Accardi family—a lineage of unparalleled wealth and influence—seemed enviable to anyone who merely glanced at their glittering lives.

But those who knew their secrets could only pity them. Beneath the polished surface of luxury, they were wretches trapped in a gilded cage, living lives devoid of true comfort despite their vast wealth and power—especially the one he had come to visit now.

He knocked on the door respectfully, his ears catching faint sounds from within. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Emilio, Lorenzo Accardi's butler_ the young man he had come to visit.

"Good morning, Dr. Belardi," Emilio greeted with a slight bow. His voice was calm and polite, and his posture impeccable.

Despite his advanced age, he carried himself with the dignity of a seasoned soldier. Vittorio had no doubt that Emilio was as capable as any of the Accardi family's men—undoubtedly a former soldier himself

But what had he done in his youth? Vittorio didn't know, but he was certain of one thing: Emilio was among the most formidable people working under the Accardi family's banner. After all, he was entrusted with protecting and serving this spoiled brat."

"Good morning, Emilio," Vittorio replied with a polite smile as he stepped inside. The penthouse's interior greeted him with its usual stark monochrome palette—white walls, black accents, and gray marble floors. Cold and impersonal, it was striking, as if designed for a museum rather than a home."

"I trust the young master has been following his diet well?" Vittorio asked as Emilio closed the door behind him.

"As always, I make sure he eats his meals and tries to regulate his habits, but..." Emilio trailed off, gesturing toward the main hall.

Vittorio followed Emilio's gaze and frowned. Lorenzo lay on a black leather sofa, his white shirt unbuttoned and his dark pants wrinkled. One bare foot rested on the armrest, the other dangled over the edge, while he used the opposite armrest as a pillow. His black hair was disheveled and messy, adding to the unkempt image.

Around him, two white cats frolicked, brushing against his shirt sleeve and nuzzling his still hand as though he were a corpse.

On the coffee table in front of him lay several empty pill bottles, a half-empty glass of water, and scattered crumbs.

Vittorio sighed deeply, frowning at this unpleasant development. He hadn't expected to find this spoiled child in such a state.

"Sleeping pills again?"

"The young master insisted on it. I did what I could, but I couldn't stop him..."

"It's unfair to expect you to control him when even Riccardo Accardi couldn't do it... but this? This is unacceptable."

Emilio remained silent. As a servant, it was not polite to speak ill of his master.

Vittorio walked away from him and approached the sofa, squatting beside Lorenzo. He placed a hand on his shoulder and called his name.

"Lorenzo."

The young man didn't move.

.

"Lorenzo," Vittorio repeated, shaking him gently. One of the cats meowed from the backrest of the sofa, leaping onto Lorenzo's body before scurrying away, while the other jumped onto the coffee table, sniffed at the pill bottles, and knocked a few items off in its path. But no one paid any attention.

Only Lorenzo let out a low groan, irritated by the noise. The two cats and an annoying person were enough to make him turn his head slightly. His eyes barely opened, dark and unfocused.

"Good morning," Vittorio said coldly as he stood up, noting Lorenzo's response.

"Too loud," Lorenzo muttered in a lazy, hoarse tone.

"Is it too loud? That's the least of your problems, Lorenzo. Emilio, when did he last eat?"

"Yesterday afternoon. He had a snack, though he didn't finish it," Emilio replied promptly.

Not that he expected any better...

"Of course, he didn't... " Vittorio then turned to Emilio. "Call room service, please, and order breakfast. Coffee, bread, eggs—anything simple. And bring a damp towel while you're at it."

"Right away, Doctor," Emilio said, disappearing down the hall.

Vittorio turned his attention back to Lorenzo, who managed to sit up slowly, swaying slightly before sitting down again. He rubbed his temples, wincing as if a severe headache were splitting his head.

"You've outdone yourself this time," Vittorio said sharply. "How many pills have you taken?"

"Enough," Lorenzo muttered in a barely audible voice.

Vittorio replied, his words laced with frustration as he ignored the young master's pampered demands.

"With this much abuse of your body, I don't even know what can be fixed. It's not like anything has worked with you in the first place."