LOGINThe words stayed with them long after Marco left. Three rival families. Three armies. One war. Mia looked at Mark across the office. "We were just talking about the future." Mark gave a faint smile. "We still are." He reached for her hand. "We'll get there." Neither of them knew how soon their lives were about to change. The following week became a blur. The Romano family prepared for war. Weapons were moved into secure rooms. Emergency routes were established. Allied families were placed on standby. Every entrance to the estate was reinforced. Mark barely slept. Mia noticed. She also noticed something else. She was tired. Not ordinary tired. The kind that settled deep inside her bones. At first, she blamed the recent battles. Then the negotiations. Then the endless nights without proper sleep. But eventually... Something felt different. One morning, Mia stood in the kitchen staring at a plate of food. She frowned. "What is that smell?" Luca looked up fr
The paper crown sat crookedly on Mark's head. Mia tried not to laugh. She failed. "You know," Mark said, removing it, "I've commanded armed men, survived assassins, and inherited an empire." "And yet..." He placed the crown back on his head. "...this is how you choose to humiliate me." Mia smiled. "You look good." "I look ridiculous." "You look like my king." His expression softened. "Then I'll keep it." That night, the mansion was unusually quiet. The rescued civilians had been taken home. The guards had returned to their posts. The city had settled beneath a dark sky. For once, there were no emergency calls. No reports of attacks. No bloodshed. Mark and Mia escaped to the small garden behind the mansion. It was one of the few places security couldn't completely transform into a fortress. They sat beneath an old tree. Mia rested her head against Mark's shoulder. Neither spoke for several minutes. Finally, she whispered, "Do you ever imagine leaving?" Mark l
The black car disappeared into the night. Inside the ballroom, the music continued. But the war had already moved closer. The next morning, Mia woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She reached for it before Mark could answer. "Hello?" Silence. Then a frightened voice. "Lady Romano..." Mia sat upright. "Who is this?" "My name is Elena. I work at the Saint Aurelia Community Center." Mia recognized the name. It was one of the centers receiving funding from the charity gala. "What happened?" The woman's breathing trembled. "They've taken everyone hostage." Mia's heart stopped. "How many?" "Twenty-seven." "Children?" "Eleven." Mia immediately got out of bed. "Where's the police?" "We can't call them." "Why?" The woman whispered, "They said if anyone contacts the authorities..." "They'll start killing people." The line went dead. Mark was already awake. He had heard enough. "What happened?" Mia looked at him. "Hostages." His expression hardened. "Where
The message remained on the screen long after the lights returned. Nobody in the room spoke. Mark finally closed the laptop. "Not tonight." Mia looked at him. "You have something planned?" He offered his hand. "We have a charity gala." She blinked. "You're still going?" "Especially now." By evening, the Romano mansion had transformed. The charity gala had been planned weeks earlier by several neutral families. Canceling it would send the wrong message. The enemy wanted fear. Mark intended to show them confidence. Mia stood before the mirror while a stylist adjusted the final details of her dress. She wore a simple black silk gown. Elegant. Nothing excessive. Around her neck hung a delicate necklace Mark had given her years ago. She touched it thoughtfully. A knock sounded. "Come in." The door opened. Mark stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Mia smiled. "You look handsome." He smiled back. "So do you."
He had no idea that, across the city, Mark had already found a way to make him bleed first. The discovery came at 3:17 a.m. Carlo was still awake in the intelligence room when a financial transfer appeared on his screen. He frowned. The amount was enormous. But the account wasn't registered to Moretti. It belonged to a harmless-looking import company. Carlo checked the company records. Nothing unusual. Then he checked the owners. Three names. All deceased. His eyes narrowed. "That's impossible." He ran the company through another database. The same names appeared on six other businesses. Six companies. Different industries. Different cities. Same dead owners. Carlo sat forward. "Shell companies." He immediately called Mark. Ten minutes later, Mark entered the intelligence room. Mia followed behind him. "What did you find?" Carlo turned the screen toward them. "Moretti's money." Mark studied the accounts. "How much?" "Enough to finance an army." Mia leane
"They want to take my wife." Mark's voice was quiet. Yet every person in the office felt the rage beneath it. Marco slowly reached for the crumpled paper. "We'll increase Lady Romano's security immediately." "No." Mark answered without hesitation. "Triple it." Mia opened her mouth to protest. Mark looked at her. "This isn't a discussion." She recognized that look. It wasn't the Don speaking. It was a husband terrified of losing the woman he loved. She gently nodded. "All right." The next morning, the Romano mansion resembled a military fortress. Additional guards patrolled every corridor. Snipers watched from the rooftops. Every visitor was searched twice. Even Luca sighed as another guard inspected him. "I've worked here for years." The guard smiled apologetically. "Orders from the Don." Luca raised his hands dramatically. "Fine. But if someone steals my lunch while you're searching me, I'm filing a complaint." The guard couldn't help but laugh. Inside the
Mia’s hands shook as she gripped her phone. She stared at Ethan’s name blinking on the screen, her chest tight with dread.She had no choice. She had to tell him.“Ethan…” she whispered, her voice trembling.The line clicked alive. “Mia?” His tone was light, warm, the sound of safety she had clung
The sound of her father’s boots clicking across the marble floor sent a shiver down Mia Romano’s spine. She had learned long ago that those boots carried more than authority—they carried the weight of life or death. And now, as she waited in the study, her stomach churned with the sense that this v
The Romano estate was quiet again that night, but Mia could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. The corridors, normally elegant and orderly, felt like a labyrinth designed to trap her. Every polished surface reflected her conflicted expression, every flickering candle seemed to
The Romano estate was quiet that evening, but the tension inside Mia’s suite was anything but.She was rifling through drawers, packing a small bag. Clothes. Essentials. Anything she could grab in case she decided she’d had enough of this life—the life her father had forced her into.A soft knock a







