1

The house feels empty now that my precious sister has run away from her responsibilities to the mafia and her engagement. The mansion is so quiet. And Papa?

 

He is busy searching for Nova, yet he has left all of her duties in my hands.

 

I stand in Nova’s room. It is enormous compared to mine — you can easily tell that my father favors her above all else. Whatever Nova wants, she gets.

 

Whereas I have to beg Papa for every single thing I own.

 

Yes, he provides for my basic needs, but when it comes to my wishes? Nothing.

 

I walk around the room until I reach the bed, then sit down on the edge and gently run my hand over the surface of her king-sized mattress.

 

This room was once filled with so much love. But now, a part of her — and a part of me — died the moment she walked away and left me behind.

 

Her words still echo sharply inside my mind, and I know every single one of them was a lie.

 

Nova left knowing full well I would be left all alone here, with no one to rely on. She knows this house is nothing less than hell, yet I have no choice but to obey and become exactly the daughter Papa wants me to be for the mafia.

 

I make myself useful. I do everything that is asked of me, and even things I am not capable of — I force myself to endure it, because that is what Papa demands.

 

I have thought about leaving, about running away too, but I never went through with it. I was always afraid of what would happen to Nova if I did.

 

Yet here I am, stuck in this place while she is gone.

 

“You fucking liar!” I scream at the four corners of the room, my voice echoing as if I am crying out for help from inside a prison.

 

“You liar!” I shout again, this time punching the collection of plush toys I had given her over the years. I always brought them to her, especially during the long stretches of time when we were separated for training — because Nova’s training was completely different from mine.

 

Her lessons focused on the mafia’s internal affairs, business management, and self-defense.

 

Mine? They centered entirely on survival and killing. It is as if Papa shaped me into a weapon, meant to eliminate anyone who stands in their way.

 

“Infuriating! This is so infuriating!” I repeat over and over, yet not a single tear falls from my eyes.

 

I can’t even remember the last time I cried. All I feel right now is anger and pure hatred over what happened at the engagement party.

 

If she hadn’t run away, none of this would be happening.

 

The door creaks open, and I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Without thinking, I hurl a dagger — only for Zeb to catch it effortlessly in mid-air.

 

I scowl. He stares back in surprise, taking in the mess I have made: plushies scattered everywhere across the floor, thrown about in my rage.

 

“Milady?”

 

I glare at him as he stands near the doorway.

 

“Your father requests your presence in the dining room. He is about to eat and wants you to join him at the table.”

 

I let out a long, heavy sigh and stand up, straightening my posture and regaining my composure. I nod toward the chaos behind me.

 

“Have the maids clean this up,” I say, before turning away and walking toward the grand staircase.

 

The atmosphere throughout the house feels dim and heavy, nothing like before when every corner was bright and warm.

 

I enter the dining hall to find Papa seated in his usual place, with Arthur standing beside him.

 

I have never liked Arthur. I don’t know exactly why, but there is always this heavy, suffocating feeling whenever he is near. To be honest, I feel that way around almost everyone.

 

I hate people.

 

“Vivianne,” Papa begins once I have taken my seat. The maids set down my steak and drink, but I only glance at them, waiting for him to speak first.

 

“I still cannot believe Nova is missing. And I refuse to believe you had no idea where your own sister went.”

 

His words stop me from even reaching for my cutlery. I have not taken a single bite, and already my appetite has vanished completely.

 

“I am truly sorry, Papa, for this unfortunate turn of events. It is true that Nova ran away, but I swear I have no clue where she is right now.”

 

I watch his jaw clench tightly as I say it. He believes I am lying straight to his face.

 

“Papa, you know I cannot lie to you. I swore on Mama’s grave that I speak the truth.”

 

In response, Papa slams his steak knife hard against the tabletop, cracking the glass surface. I do not flinch or move an inch.

 

Did I just say something he considered crossing the line?

 

“Stop using your dead mother’s name to gain sympathy. That is your last warning, Vivianne Cora.”

 

Any hope I had of reasoning with him dies right there.

 

What am I supposed to admit when I honestly know nothing? Besides, it is impossible for Papa to remain unaware of Nova’s whereabouts — he holds immense power, and his reach extends everywhere he wants it to.

 

“Papa, I do not understand why I am the one being blamed simply because I was the last person to see her. Is it not possible that she ran away because it was what she truly wanted?”

 

“Ungrateful girl!”

 

He hurls a spoon across the table; it strikes me right on the forehead, and blood immediately trickles down toward the corner of my eye.

 

This is how it always is — I am never allowed to dodge or defend myself when Papa raises a hand against me.

 

“I know my own daughter. Nova craves my power, and her greatest dream has always been to become someone just like me. There is no way she would ever try to escape me,” Papa says, calming himself after his outburst.

 

“I kept you close to her so she would never feel alone — so she would know what it is like to have a sister who looks out for her. Yet everyone around us says you are consumed by jealousy toward her.”

 

My brows furrow instantly, and I glance sharply at the maids standing behind me.

 

A cold smirk tugs at my lips as I look directly at one of them.

 

“Papa, I wonder why you would trust the words of someone who has been caught stealing Nova’s money and jewelry many times over — I have seen it happen myself.”

 

Silence falls over the room, though I can still see the fury burning in Papa’s eyes. He simply raises a hand, and his guards drag the maid away from the dining hall.

 

Blood, it seems, is still thicker than water.

 

“Uncle, my men are continuing their search for Nova. No one is resting until we find even the smallest lead on where she has gone or where she is hiding,” Arthur speaks up finally.

 

With the tension broken, I can finally eat in peace. The steak actually looks quite good.

 

“Vivianne, I want you to go into town. There is someone very important I need you to find.”

 

I look up at Papa and swallow the bite I had just taken.

 

“Of course. Tell me the details.”

 

A folder is placed on the table beside me.

 

I open it slowly. There is no name listed, only a photograph of a woman in her early forties or fifties. She has features that remind me of someone from Egypt.

 

“This woman needs to be brought back to me. She owes me a debt — and your mother, too. I also suspect she may be involved in whatever happened to Nova.”

 

My brow furrows deeper.

 

“But how am I supposed to locate her? There is no name, no address, nothing to go on.”

 

Papa grips his white-gold plated swagger stick firmly.

 

“Find her, no matter what it takes. And there is more.”

 

He pauses, pushing his chair back to stand up. Arthur rises immediately beside him.

 

Damn it.

 

“She goes by no name. I tried to track her down long before now, but she has no records, no identity, nothing at all. Good luck finding someone who does not officially exist.”

 

Papa turns to leave, but stops for a moment.

 

“Though I am certain she is still alive.”

 

“And if you find her and she refuses to talk? Kill her.”

 

I simply shrug my shoulders at his order as he and Arthur walk out of the room — Arthur trailing behind my father like a lost puppy.

 

I can eat much better when Papa is not sitting across from me. I cannot explain why, but it is only when Nova is here that I feel truly comfortable at the dinner table.

 

I hate to admit it, but perhaps I do hate Papa. Yet I have no choice but to obey him and do whatever he asks, even when it goes against everything I feel.

 

“Milady, Master Vlad has instructed that you begin your training session as soon as you finish eating.”

 

I roll my eyes. Just as I thought.

 

Of course, there is always something else waiting for me.

 

“Where? I have already completed my morning routine.”

 

I set down my cutlery and wipe my mouth with the napkin.

 

“There is a group of rival mobsters gathering in Quia—”

 

“Alright, alright, I hear you, Zeb. You sound like a broken record.”

 

I glance past him and notice Piattos standing there. Piattos was Nova’s personal butler, and now he has been left behind, abandoned just like the rest of us.

 

I rush past Zeb and slip through the secret passage leading down to the mansion’s underground basement. Beneath Don Vladimir’s home lies an entire network of cells and holding areas.

 

A wicked smile spreads across my face as I spot the maid who lied to my father. I walk straight toward her cell.

 

“How does it feel behind bars?” I ask.

 

The moment she sees me, she bursts into tears, trembling uncontrollably with fear.

 

“Milady, p-please, I swear I had nothing to do with it! I do not know why I was brought here, and I did not say anything false to Don Vlad!”

 

“Aw, really? If you are innocent, then why are you locked inside?” I reply sarcastically, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Are you calling the men who confirmed your words fools?”

 

I signal to the guard, who hands me a loaded pistol.

 

“Let’s make this a little more interesting.”

 

I cock the gun and aim it at her.

 

She starts screaming as if she is already being shot — so dramatic.

 

“Dodge the bullets. If you manage to avoid them, you will have five minutes to run and escape this mansion. All you have to do is make it past the front gate.”

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, sobbing and begging for mercy.

 

“Your time starts now. Dodge!”

 

I pull the trigger repeatedly, firing round after round until the magazine is empty.

 

When I open my eyes, she is deathly pale, shaking so hard she can barely breathe. She has stopped screaming, as if fear has stolen her voice completely.

 

“Wow, you are one lucky woman.”

 

I laugh and unlock the cell door, swinging it wide open.

 

I glance at my watch, then look back at her, still trembling on the floor.

 

“Your five minutes begin now.”

 

I turn away and raise my hand, signaling my men to stand back and let her run.

 

She bolts like a frightened rabbit, tripping over her own feet more than once. I climb back up to the balcony overlooking the grounds.

 

I open the case holding my sniper rifle, load a fresh magazine, and wait for her to reach the open field.

 

I begin to grow impatient.

 

It takes her four minutes just to get from the basement out into the wide lawn. By then, she is crawling through the grass, covered in mud, her face as white as a sheet.

 

Time’s up.

 

I look through the rifle’s scope and take aim at her hand. I hold my stance steady — the kind of balance I learned during my training on that island, where I was given nothing but weapons and ammunition, no food, no water, and no comfort.

 

Such harsh lessons.

 

“Mama!” she screams the moment her hand is struck. I used a smaller caliber round, so it only tears through her palm rather than blowing it off completely.

 

“Oops,” I mutter, though I just shrug. She is still running, even with her hand bleeding badly.

 

Next, I think about aiming for her legs, but decide against it — if she can’t move, the fun ends too quickly.

 

I take aim at her shoulder instead, grazing the flesh just enough to send her tumbling forward from the impact.

 

“Bring me something to drink,” I call out without looking away, sensing someone standing behind me.

 

“This is getting boring.”

 

I hand the rifle back to Zeb, noticing that Piattos is standing beside him. I step down from the balcony.

 

The maid is still screaming somewhere across the lawn, wriggling on the ground like a worm.

 

She does not deserve to breathe the same air or walk on the same ground as me.

 

“Excuse me, move aside.”

 

I take the leashes from our dog handlers, holding back three large, aggressive hounds that are straining to break free.

 

I stroke their heads gently, then whisper the single command: “Attack.”

 

I let them go.

 

I sit back down, and Zeb hands me a glass of wine. I smile widely as I watch the dogs close in on the traitorous maid — first sinking their teeth into her thighs, then her arms.

 

I empty the glass of wine in one go, enjoying the sound and sight of her being torn apart.

 

Her screams echo across the grounds. Other maids nearby are crying, terrified by what they are witnessing.

 

As her voice grows weaker and weaker, I walk closer, still holding my glass. The handlers pull the dogs back and restrain them.

 

“This is exactly what you deserve for putting me in a position I did nothing to cause.”

 

I reach for another drink, but Piattos hands me a bottle of vodka instead. I glance at Zeb — I only asked him, but apparently Piattos thought ahead too.

 

I take the vodka and twist off the cap.

 

“Your suffering will be my entertainment for today.”

 

Smiling coldly, I pour the entire bottle over her broken, bleeding body — she is still alive, though barely, and the alcohol burns into every open wound.

 

I turn around and walk away, Zeb falling into step behind me.

 

“Leave her body out there on the lawn until she takes her last breath.”

 

But as I lift my gaze, I see Papa standing on the balcony, right where I was only moments before.

 

When I glance over at Arthur, I see pure fear written all over his face. Papa, however, looks pleased and satisfied.

 

It leaves me wondering, though.

 

Why does Arthur look so terrified by what he just saw?

 

To me, it is just business as usual.