The sun over Sicily warmed the golden stones of Palazzo Marchesi as if time itself bowed in quiet respect to the legacy it had witnessed.Laughter spilled through the open windows. Not the cautious kind it had once held during darker years, but the untamed laughter of children… of peace.Seraphina stood at the top of the garden steps, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her long hair was pinned up in an elegant twist, streaks of sunlight catching the fine lines at her temples. Motherhood, power, and love had all left their marks on her, and they were beautiful.Below her, five boys chased each other around the trimmed hedges, their shrieks echoing like music. And at the center of the chaos, little Valeria Marchesi, named after the grandmother she never met, stood with her hands on her hips, all of five years old and already giving orders.“Leo, you can’t take the last cannoli! Mamma says to share!”Leonardo, six, groaned and handed it over with theatrical drama. “She didn’t say I had to
The air inside the old villa was still, as if time itself had stopped to listen.Seraphina stood beneath the arched ceiling of the interrogation room. It wasn’t cold, but a chill ran down her spine. Across the table sat Gabe Vale Sr., the man who had shaped and shattered her childhood in equal measure. His once-imposing figure had shrunk in the shadows, but the glint in his eyes remained sharp, venomous.The room had no windows. The only light came from the fluorescents above, casting stark outlines between the past and the present.He smiled when she entered. “You always were the spitting image of your mother.”Seraphina didn’t move. “Don’t speak of her.”Vale Sr. leaned back in his chair. “Why not? She loved you more than anything. Mireille wanted to protect you. I did too.”“You used her,” Seraphina said coldly. “And when she was no longer useful, you erased her.”“That’s not true,” he said, voice lowering. “She was sick. I cared for her. I raised you.”“You groomed me,” she correc
The sharp clang of the gavel echoed through the grand courtroom, but Lucien Marchesi didn’t flinch. He sat still, his storm-colored eyes fixed on the far end of the polished bench, where a panel of international judges presided beneath the flag of Interpol. On either side of him sat Seraphina and Elian, the man who had become a cornerstone of justice in all their battles.This wasn’t a trial for one man. It was the reckoning of an empire.It had taken seventy-two hours for Interpol to move after the Romania operation. With the full evidence extracted from the Eden facility, and the coded dossiers that Matteo and Anton had decrypted, Interpol launched coordinated raids in thirty-seven countries. The arrests came fast and violent, diplomats, CEOs, military advisors, media moguls, even priests.The Codex had been everywhere. But now, they were in chains.As Lucien waited for the judges to review the final testimonies, he glanced sideways at Seraphina. Her chin was lifted, lips pressed to
The hearth crackled within the Montenegro estate’s grand hall, its fire flickering across antique portraits and velvet drapery. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something older, dust, perhaps, or forgotten sorrow. The place stood mostly untouched since the day Seraphina had been taken from it.She knew every corner of this estate.Even now, after so many years, she felt the ghost of her younger self walking its halls. Back when she had thought herself a Vale. Back when her mother Mireille was still alive and Vale Sr. had smiled like a benevolent guardian.Lucien stood beside her, taking in the cold grandeur. But he didn’t look to the tapestries or the hand-carved staircase. He watched her. He could feel the weight of it all pressing against her chest like a hand she couldn’t swat away.“Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asked.Her eyes were fixed on the oil painting above the fireplace, a portrait of a young girl on horseback. It was her younger self, happy,
The ash cloud from the Citadel fire still clung to the night sky when the first Interpol helicopters arrived. Their rotors sliced the silence above the mountains, casting long shadows across the scorched ruins. Among them, one chopper bore the seal of the agency’s international division, and inside sat Director François Duval, flanked by his elite team. His face was drawn, hardened by decades of hunting syndicates through paper trails and whispers.Below, the extraction team led by Elian ushered Lucien, Seraphina, Valeria, and the others to a secure perimeter near the evacuation outpost. Everyone bore the signs of war, scorched clothing, bruised skin, and exhaustion that clung to their bones.Duval stepped onto the field as Lucien approached. The two men exchanged a silent nod of recognition. They had never met face-to-face, but their names had passed through enough redacted reports to forge an unspoken understanding.“You have something for me,” Duval said.Lucien handed him the secu
The speaker above them crackled again, and this time the voice came clearer. Older now, more weathered, but unmistakable.“Marchesi. Always the last to learn.”Lucien turned toward the source, jaw clenched. Seraphina’s hand tightened over Valeria’s shoulder as the little girl’s calm expression finally cracked.“I know that voice,” Seraphina whispered.Another voice joined the line, colder and slicker, sharp with mockery.“I’m touched you remember me, stepdaughter. Even after all the things I did to save you.”Gabe Vale Sr.Lucien’s eyes darkened, and even Matteo looked up from the panel with a curse under his breath.“You,” Seraphina breathed. “You’re alive.”The speakers laughed together. Caine’s voice was lower, amused. Vale Sr.’s was cruel.“You shouldn’t be surprised, darling. Did you really think I’d let a little chaos ruin the legacy I built?”“You destroyed everything,” she hissed.Vale Sr. clicked his tongue. “I built everything. You, included. From the moment I gave you my na