Gianna had asked Massimo to look into the issues surrounding Talana.
Meanwhile, Lorenzo was deep in, uncovering all the filth that lay beneath the surface. After leaving the hospital, Massimo Talana insisted she needed to get back home. Though Massimo was not comfortable in her going back to the scene of the crime. Talana needed to face her parents. Arriving outside her home, Massimo said, "If you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, you message me immediately." He lifted his hand to remove ap wayward strand. His fingers burning against her skin. "God, how I want to hold her and protect her so badly," he thought. As he entered the car to get back home, rage simmered beneath Massimo's cool exterior. "Lorenzo, have you managed to find out anything about the club incident and her home incident?" “Boss, this has to do with her father's gambling debts. That guy, his name is Marco Rossi." Lorenzo was right on Massimo's heels. “The bastard’s been moving in silence, using fronts to cover up his operations. But the real kicker is that he's been seen having private meetings with De Marco and Donatello for weeks now. If Talana’s father owes them, they using that debt as leverage.” "But why Talana? What the fuck does she have to so with all this?" Massimo raged. Pacing the floor of his VIP room, he growled. “I don’t care what it takes. Just find out everything! Look I to this tracker also!" "Talana isn’t just anyone. She’s mine! I’ll burn their bloody empires to the ground before I let anyone get his hands on her again!" Massimo raged on, thowing back a glass of stiff whiskey. Lorenzo nodded. “Understood. Sir, do you think this goes deeper?” "I don't think," his temper rising. "I know it does." As Massimo poured himself another glass of whiskey, his thoughts drifting back to Talana, the woman who had unknowingly ignited a war within him. He stared at the amber coloured liquid in the glass, reminiscing at how she felt in his arms as they danced, how her laughter lit up the darkened space inside his heart. "Hang in there, angel. I'm coming to you," he uttered as he downed the second glass. As he was about to leave and head back home, one of the other employees came in. "Boss!" Mateo said as he entered. "What is it?" Massimo vented. "Something's going down, Boss. I heard it would take place in three days. Donatello, de Marco and Rossi!" Mateo explained. "Find Rossi! I want him delivered to the spot before the end of business tomorrow!" he instructed, "we not waiting on them we going after Rossi. He's their weak link!" The Donatello'swere into drug trafficking, de Marco's had connections in Mexico. "How do you want Rossi? Dead or alive?" Matteo and Lorenzo asked. With a sinister smirk, he answered, "Both!" "Got it, Boss," both Lorenzo and Mateo responded. With each step he took, they saw his determination. "I've never seen the Don like this over a woman before. She must be something special," Mateo concluded. Whatever was happening, Massimo Morelli was not going to allow Talana to face it alone. "Lorenzo, arrange a meeting with Roberto Sanchiano!" he ordered. "Boss?" he questioned. "Do it!" he yelled. A few minutes later. "Mr Sanchiano, Massimo Morelli needs a word, sir." "Roberto," Massimo greeted the elderly gentleman telephonically. "Morelli, young man," the elder Don greeted him. "Your granddaughter's life is in danger." Massimo explained everything to Sanchiano. "I knew that bastard was trouble the day Rosslina left the family for him," Sanchiano slammed his hand on the table in anger. "Sir, I don't know how much debt he owes or what the connection is to the Donatello's and de Marco's, but whatever it is, it's not just gambling debt. It's bigger than that!" "I will get her uncle on it first thing in the morning!" Roberto Sanchiano informed him. "I've ordered my men to get Rossi. I want him dead. A message that they are playing with fire!" "It's okay son, between the Sanchianos and Morelli’s we will get to the bottom of this." "Roberto, Talana has stamina. She wants in," he informed the old man. "Of course she does. The mafia runs in her blood. We'll bring her in when the time is right!" he assured Massimo. Massimo contacted Gianna. "I need Talana out that house tomorrow. Either she stays with me, or I have her in lockdown at your place." Meanwhile, back at Talana's. "You bitch," her step mother raised her hand and hit her." "What the hell," Talana wasn't going to allow for Maria to hit her. "Your dad has made a deal with de Marco. You're going to marry him!" she insisted. "The bloody hell I am! No one signs me away!" her tone, not so gentle. Marching up to her bedroom, Talana sent a text message to Max. "I need your help!" As quick as the text was sent, it was as quick as Massimo answered her back. "On my way!" Within minutes, Massimo was outside her place. Talana heard the car and went out the back way to avoid both her father and stepmother. Climbing in the car, Massimo saw the handprint on her face. "Angel, speak to me! Who the fuck hit you!" he urged her. "Maria. My dad signed me away to de Marco!" she raged. "Over my dead body!" Massimo said, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles went white. "You're staying at my place tonight," he informed her as they drove to his place. There was no room for argument. "Max?" she began. "Yes, angel," he responded, more gentle this time. "Max, we need to get these bastards," she voice low but angered. "Don't worry, angel, I spoke to Don Sanchiano he is looking into it as well," he responded. "Don Sanchiano? What does ha have to do with all this?" Talana was now more uncertain than before. "Max, I want to deal with this my way!" she implored. "Fine! whatever my angel wants," he resigned with a sigh. His vow was determined. Whatever way Talana wanted it, he would do it. One by one, he would help her exact revenge.The black SUV skidded to a stop outside the smoldering compound on the outskirts of Palermo. The smoke was still fresh, curling into the night sky like a dying serpent. Flames licked the broken skeleton of what had once been a trafficking hub, now there was nothing more than scorched earth and silence.Massimo stepped out, his boots crunching over glass and soot, eyes scanning the wreckage. Talana followed, her pistol still warm, blood spatter staining the sleeve of her coat. She didn’t flinch. Not anymore.“What did you find?” she asked Lorenzo as he approached, shirt torn, a gash on his cheek.“One tried to run. We caught him. He’s tied up in the truck. Doesn’t stop talking.”Gianna appeared behind him, calmer than she should’ve been, her hand subconsciously brushing her abdomen. She and Lorenzo shared a brief glance, then their gazes shifted to Massimo.“Where are De Marco and Donatello?” Massimo demanded.Lorenzo’s jaw clenched. “Gone before we arrived. They left someone behind to
The last of the flames consumed the documents and rotting silk furnishings inside the compound’s main estate. Talana stood outside the blazing ruins, her face lit in orange as she watched the past burn. It was almost poetic, this place, once a symbol of greed and torment, was now nothing more than smoke and ashes.Massimo joined her, his arm draping over her shoulders. She leaned into him, silently.“We did it,” she murmured. “They’re free.”He nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the distant hills where police lights flickered and choppers cut through the early morning sky. “This part is done. But there are buyers out there, contacts, satellites of this network.”Talana lifted her head. “Then we hunt them down. Every last one. We burn every root.”Behind them, the rescued girls were being loaded into transport vans and taken to a Sanchiano-run recovery center. Doctors were already en route. Several of the Morelli women, including seasoned caretakers and trained trauma professionals
The compound on the outskirts of Palermo had once been a wine estate, all crumbling stone and ivy-strangled walls, but now it served as a fortress for the last threads of the De Marco and Donatello trafficking empire. Its beauty was deceptive, beyond the iron gates and manicured hedges were hidden bunkers, rooms with reinforced doors, and the stench of exploitation lingering in the air.Massimo stood before the electronic display inside one of the Morelli surveillance trucks, his fingers curled into fists as he studied the live feeds. Lorenzo stood at his side, geared in black tactical armor, his expression stone. Talana was on a separate line with Don Sanchiano’s reinforcements, coordinating the external assault. Gianna, though kept at the rear for safety, was fully informed, her voice had joined Talana’s in every strategic meeting, refusing to be sidelined.“This is where they hold them,” Lorenzo muttered, pointing to a grainy camera feed that showed a group of girls in a dark room,
The dining hall of the Morelli villa pulsed with tension. Morning had slipped into afternoon, and while the family gathered under the pretense of lunch, nobody touched their food. The air was too thick with unspoken strategy, the scent of roses from the courtyard now mingled with unease.Massimo stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the map spread across the surface.“We took out their safehouse in Napoli last night,” Lorenzo reported, seated beside Talana. His voice was calm, but his body remained coiled, every muscle alert. “Only three survivors. One of them slipped away during transport—”There was a knock at the door, everyone turned sharply. Matteo one of Massimo’s most loyal men, entered with two others dragging a bloodied man between them. His nose was broken, face caked in dried sweat and filth. A makeshift gag was stuffed in his mouth. His arms were bound tight behind his back, legs scraped raw from being dragged through the gravel road that led to th
The morning sunlight bled gently through the villa’s arched windows, golden rays kissing the silk curtains and the cool marble floors. In the stillness of dawn, while most of the estate still slept off the lingering haze of the previous night’s chaos, Gianna sat alone in the garden, wrapped in Lorenzo’s oversized linen shirt.She had woken hours before him, heart racing, mind spinning.The scent of lavender hung in the air, calming, but it did little to steady the storm that now lived inside her. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the edge of the iron bench, eyes fixed on the blooming roses before her.Three days late. It wasn’t like her. Her body was a clock, always had been. Until now.She pressed a hand to her stomach, uncertain whether the flutter she felt was real or just anxiety taking shape in her nerves. But there had been other signs too, the dizziness, the sudden sensitivity to smells, the sharp ache in her breasts when he touched her last night. Signs she’d been too consum
The soft glow of the chandelier dulled as Talana slipped quietly away from the balcony. The echo of Chiara’s voice still scratched at her ears like broken glass, her parting words a venom that refused to leave her veins.She didn’t return to the ballroom. Instead, she wandered through the halls of the Sanchiano estate, heels in hand, silk dress brushing against polished floors as her chest ached with emotion. She found herself in the old reading room—m, dimly lit, still, and lined with the scent of history and leather-bound secrets.Roberto Sanchiano was already there.He sat in a deep armchair, a glass of amaro in one hand, his sharp eyes catching her the moment she entered. He didn’t speak at first. Just observed her, the furrow in her brow, the tremble she tried to hide.“You remind me so much of your mother,” he said quietly, setting the glass aside. “Especially when you’re furious.”Talana tried to laugh, but it came out as a bitter breath. “She wouldn’t have stood there and let
The grand ballroom shimmered with a glow that could only be described as dangerous, too perfect, too polished, hiding the serpents slithering just beneath its golden surface. Talana’s fingers were laced through Massimo’s, but even that connection couldn’t quiet the fire curling in her chest.Chiara Bellini, That name had always stirred something in Talana, long before she knew the depths of her cruelty. Now, seeing her in full armor, that silver dress clinging to every deliberate curve, Talana’s instincts were screaming.Chiara had made her move. She approached, oozing charm and venom in equal measurefuls, her voice as saccharine as it was pointed. And worst of all, Massimo hadn’t stopped her right away.Talana’s hand tightened slightly in his, her knuckles going pale. Massimo didn’t look at her, not yet. He stood still, his expression unreadable, like he was watching Chiara speak from behind a glass wall.“I must say, you clean up well, Massimo,” Chiara purred, her fingers lightly g
The night unfurled itself like a tapestry woven from tension, ambition, and the sharp scent of danger. The Grand Palazzo Sanchiano had come alive in its golden opulence, a setting befitting the seismic changes happening inside. The moment Talana had stepped into the spotlight, claiming her place as Dona of the Sanchiano Empire, everything had shifted. The world’s eyes were now on her, and those who had once considered her an insignificant pawn were forced to reckon with her power.But even in the grand splendor of the ball, there were whispers, and in the shadows, there was always someone watching. Always someone calculating.Chiara Bellini was one such person.Dressed in a stunning silver gown that hugged every curve of her body, Chiara stood across the room, her eyes locked onto Talana. The faintest tremor ran through her lips as she took in the new Dona’s grandeur, the way Massimo Morelli stood beside her, not as a bodyguard, not as a lover, but as an equal. It was enough to make
The Grand Palazzo Sanchiano glittered like a living star, perched on the cliffs overlooking the wine-dark Mediterranean. Light spilled from chandeliers so massive they seemed to float, casting golden halos over marble floors veined in blood-red stone. Music drifted through the massive hallways, violins sharp and expectant, like knives waiting for flesh.Tonight was a night written in destiny.Talana stood at the edge of the private mezzanine, watching the great families of the underworld arrive one by one, their polished shoes and jeweled gowns masking the rot beneath. Every Don and Dona of power had answered Don Sanchiano’s invitation, some out of respect, most out of terror.At her side, Massimo adjusted his cufflinks, the black onyx catching the light. His profile was pure command: sharp, brutal, untouchable.“Breathe,” he murmured under his breath, not taking his eyes off the gathering crowd.Talana exhaled slowly, steadying her pulse. Her gown clung to her like a second skin, bla