~~LUCA~~ I hadn’t seen that face in fifteen years. But the moment I laid eyes on her, it all came flooding back like a beautiful waterfall of nostalgia. Katarina Gonzalez — my childhood sweetheart. She stood there under the moonlight, her ethereal beauty catching me in a trance. Her long raven hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, her skin still as flawless and pale as I remembered. Her dark amber eyes were still fierce… still cautious. She wore a black leather jacket over a tactical vest and jeans tucked into boots — not the flowing white sundresses I remembered her always wearing. But the girly aura was still very much there. The one I fell in love with. "Hello, Luca," she said softly, almost as if we’d spoken yesterday. “It’s been a decade.” I lowered my gun slowly, still trying to grasp the reality of her standing in front of me. "What the hell are you doing here?" My voice was rougher than I meant, laced with confusion and urgency. "Looking out for you. Same as always."
~~LUCA~~I got information that Enzo was being kept in a guarded house in Italy.I couldn't tell if it was Don Kylo’s doing or one of Theresa’s dangerous moves.Either way, I had a mission.I parked the rented black car two miles away from the high walls of the house where little Enzo was being held. I’d changed into the uniform of a local guard—dark-colored, with a fake badge and a serious expression. I spoke Italian to pass as hired muscle to the guards around the perimeter. I walked with as much confidence as I could muster. One wrong move and I could blow my cover.By evening, I was inside.It was disturbingly quiet for a house with a child. The only sound was soft piano music echoing faintly through the marble halls.I walked the perimeter, nodding at other guards who barely gave me a second glance. Most of them were local hires—muscle without much brain. That worked in my favor. The less attention they paid, the smoother this would go.I hid around a corner at the sight of a chu
I sat on the cold edge of the marble bathtub, my arms folded tightly over my chest as I stared blankly at the silver faucet. I couldn't even cry anymore. I didn't have the strength for that—all I could muster were quiet sobs, my lips pressed together, my arms trembling.I felt intense anger. Not at Vince—not entirely.But at her... Theresa. A walking ghost with a baggage of lies. Her presence was... I didn’t care what sob story she fed him. I didn’t care how much guilt she tried to pile on his shoulders. She left. She faked her death. She was a damn liar.But somehow, I was the problem? I was the threat to her "family"?I scoffed under my breath and stood up. No. This wasn’t going to be one of those times I just sat and waited to be dragged through the dirty floors in their twisted game of lies and power, especially not by another woman. I wasn’t going to let Theresa drag me down while she rewrote her story with my fiancé after messing it up.I left the bathroom and found Vince in his
"She has to go," I overheard Theresa telling Vince.They were in the lounge now. I hid behind the door, eavesdropping—because why not? My fiancé's ex-wife, who was supposed to be dead, was suddenly back and wanted a private conversation with him."Who?" Vince asked.I peeped through the peephole. Theresa was pacing around. I couldn’t get a proper look at Vince."That tiny girl, Jessica," she said bitterly. "I’ve heard a lot about her. About the two of you. What are you doing with someone like her?"What the fuck? I had to restrain myself from stomping in and asking who the hell she thought she was."She’s my fiancée, not that tiny girl, Theresa," Vince replied tiredly.I exhaled, relieved he wasn't completely brainwashed by Ms. Back-from-the-Dead theatrics."Fiancée?! I’m your wife, Angelo! That means a lot more!""Was my wife," Vince corrected.Theresa gasped, as if shocked by his statement."But I explained everything! It wasn’t my fault I left—my hand was forced!" she blurted."Shu
The cold metallic mouth of a Colt kissed the side of my head, and in that instant, I screamed at the top of my lungs."Please," I whispered, my voice hoarse with panic. "Please don’t shoot me. I'll go with you to wherever you want, please—"A feminine laugh broke out, cutting me off. It wasn't the kind of laugh that follows a joke, but a slow, venom-laced sound that shot down my spine and made my knees weak.“You think this is about you, darling?” she purred, her accent thickly Italian. “You’re not that special. I’m here for my husband.”My heart dropped as her last words hit me like a truck. My husband.Slowly, I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of her—short, brown hair curled close to her jaw, flawless red lips that painted a wicked contrast against her pale skin. Her eyes were wild, glittering with something that wasn’t quite sanity. Familiar… eerily familiar."What the fuck are you looking at?" she gritted, her voice trembling a little. She stared down at me with shar
~~VINCENZO~~ I stared at the message on my screen with a pounding heart. SHE'S ALIVE. I swallowed hard, trying to decipher what Luca meant. Who was she? "Vince? Who's she?" Jessica asked the exact question roaming in my head. I couldn't think of anyone. Bianca was alive and locked up in a well-secured psychiatric facility, Selene was alive—I knew that. Who on earth could he be referring to? I needed clarification—so I called Luca immediately. It went straight to voicemail. No, this didn't look good. “Vince, what is it?" I felt Jessica's shaky hand rub down my arm. She was scared, rightfully so. “We need to leave. Now,” I muttered, looking around to see if there were any prying eyes. "Do you think it's Bianca?" she asked, her voice trailing off with fear. "It can't be. We both know she's alive and well in Grant Facility," I said gruffly. "We need to leave right this moment." We drove back to my mansion. There was something off about the atmosphere—like the aftermath of a robb