Novel-novel oleh u.munachi432

The moment Emilia stepped into the De Rossi estate, a chill crawled down her spine.The villa loomed like a predator, all sleek lines and guarded beauty, perched above the Amalfi cliffs like it had secrets buried in its walls. Luca had said little after she revealed she had a sister—just enough to make her question if she really was being captured and held hostage by a mafia don as a result of mistaken identity, or if she’d been coerced by the sheer force of his presence.“You live here?” she asked, her voice tight as the iron gates clanged shut behind them.He shot her a look. “No. I drag women who steal from me here for fun.”Emilia bristled but held her tongue. His sarcasm had a knife’s edge, sharp and defensive. She recognized that kind of armor—it came from being hurt, and badly. She’d seen it in her sister, years ago, before she vanished. Before the calls stopped. Before Emilia was left wondering what had gone so horribly wrong.Inside, the villa was dark wood and stone, the ki

Emilia*Five years earlier*The last time she saw her sister, they were in a hospital corridor—fluorescent lights buzzing, blood under her nails, their father in a body bag down the hall.“You did this,” her sister whispered.“No,” she’d said. “They did.”But the damage was done.They had the same face, same green eyes, same wicked smirk when they wanted something. But the world had always treated them differently. Isadora had became a shadow, trained, molded by the same organization that let their father die in silence. She ran away, changed her name, and buried the past, she told her it was better they lived separate lives, she kissed her on the cheeks and left. And yet… she still looked just like her.Present Day – RomeFour years. That’s how long he’d been chasing a ghost—a girl with no name who’d stolen from him and vanished. Luca, the most feared name in the underworld, had torn cities apart looking for her. He wondered why he thought about her again, today, after so long, but a

The soft clink of crystal glasses and the low hum of classical music filled the grand ballroom of the Verano Estate, a fortress masquerading as elegance. Candlelight danced on the chandeliers, reflecting off the diamonds and secrets that adorned every guest. Behind every tailored tuxedo was a weapon; behind every smile, an agenda. Luciano De Rossi—Luca to those who dared to be familiar—stood at the edge of the crowd, glass of blood-red Chianti untouched in his hand. His tailored black suit clung to his broad frame, a silent threat. His dark eyes surveyed the room like a predator scanning for weakness. The last time he came to an event like this was the night he had to step up and fill in the big shoes his father left behind…….blood soaked the marble floors of his family’s villa in Palermo. He had been twenty-four then—sharp-suited, sharper-minded, and already whispered about in the back alleys of Naples and Milan. But he had not yet been *Don*.His father, Alessandro De Rossi, had r