CHAPTER 001

FIORELLA’S POV

PRESENT

With a sigh, I locked the restaurant and stood back to stare at the CLOSED sign.

It had taken almost four years of planning, sleepless nights, and more tears than I would ever admit, but I had finally fulfilled my dream of opening my own restaurant.

And just in time for my thirty-third birthday soon.

Assuming my father didn’t ruin it first.

It had been years since he kicked my mother and me out of the house, so whatever he wanted couldn’t be good.

I stopped a cab and gave the driver directions to the place I never thought I’d return to.

During the ride, I considered turning back numerous times.

Papa was an excuse for a father, and my stepmother had somehow sunk her claws so deep into him that he abandoned his first and only biological child without a second thought.

He loved her children more than he had ever loved me.

So, naturally, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when his office called to request my presence.

He didn’t even have the decency to call me himself.

The cab stopped outside the building.

I stood there for the briefest second, staring up at it before finally forcing myself to walk in.

Security opened the huge double doors as I approached.

The cool air inside brushed against my skin as I stepped into the lobby.

Halfway across the lobby, someone stepped out of a side corridor.

I didn’t see them until it was too late.

My shoulder slammed into something solid. “Oof—”

“Watch where you’re going, cunt,” a familiar voice snapped. “Are you freaking blind or something?”

She bent to pick up her phone.

I stumbled back a little from the impact but caught myself quickly. “I’m sorry.”

She stood up and lifted her eyes to mine.

I raised a brow. “Chiara? What are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “You? I never thought I’d see you here again. Papa called for all his children. Last I checked, I still qualify.”

If Chiara—my stepsister—were here, my other stepsiblings would have to be present as well.

As if my thoughts summoned them, I caught Lucia and Matteo from the corner of my eyes.

They were caught up in an argument.

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I knew I should have turned back during the ride here.”

Chiara stepped closer and snapped her hand in my face. “Hey! Don’t act like you’re doing us a favour by being here. Remember your place. Go get us something to drink.”

I slowly lowered my hand from my face.

I thought I had misheard her.

But Chiara stood there waiting expectantly, as if I were beneath her.

Something hot twisted in my chest.

I took a step closer to her.

Her smug expression faltered slightly when she realized I wasn’t backing away.

“You want something to drink?” I asked softly, like I was still the timid girl she used to bully.

Chiara folded her arms. “Yes.”

My jaw tightened. “I’m not your maid. Use your fucking legs.”

A scoff left her mouth. “Please. You should be grateful we even let you set foot in this building again. I’ll smack you if I have to repeat myself.”

My nails dug into my palm.

Years ago I would have swallowed the insult.

Years ago I would have lowered my head and done exactly what she asked just to avoid being ganged up on by her and her fucking siblings.

But not anymore.

“We’re no longer kids, Chiara,” I said flatly. “I’ll snap your hands like a twig if you fuck with me now.”

The smile slid off her face.

Behind her, Lucia and Matteo had stopped arguing and were now approaching us.

Chiara let out a short laugh, but it sounded forced. “Still as dramatic and pathetic as ever. Can’t wait until we get rid of you for good.”

Then she walked off to Papa’s wing of the house.

Lucia just walked past me without a word, thankfully, sending a condescending look my way.

“Hey, step-sis,” Matteo’s irritating voice scraped against my ear nerves. “Long time no see. Look how pretty you turned out.”

He walked closer and leaned one hand on the wall beside me.

He was wearing a suit and looked well put together but I could smell alcohol in his breath, and his eyes were unfocused.

I felt a sudden urge to throw up in his face.

I turned to walk away but he caught my wrist. “Let me go, Matteo.”

He shoved me against the wall and leaned in, alcohol and cigarettes clinging to his disgusting breath. “Don’t walk away from me, bitch. And don’t pretend you don’t miss me.”

Disgust rose in my throat.

I spat in his face. “I said, let me go.”

He moved to wipe his face, and I took advantage of that opportunity to knee him hard in the groin.

Matteo doubled over with a strangled grunt.

I wrenched my hand free and stepped back as he staggered, clutching his pants.

“You fucking… bitch,” he gasped, his voice breaking.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my stomach still churning.

“Touch me again and I’ll break something that won’t heal,” I said coldly.

He tried to straighten but failed, leaning heavily against the wall instead.

“You think you’re tough now?” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You think that little stunt means anything?”

I looked down at him, feeling nothing but resentment. “You should be grateful that’s all I did.”

His eyes burned with humiliation.

“You were begging for my attention once,” he sneered. “Silly little cock-tease.”

My skin crawled. “I never wanted your attention. That must be one of the fantasies you tell yourself when you’re drunk.”

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Lucia had stopped farther ahead and turned, clearly watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement and curiosity.

Matteo noticed it too, and embarrassment twisted his face darker.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered.

Then he stood up and limped away behind his sister.

I took a moment to force myself to stay calm before walking down the hallway toward Papa’s office.

The guards by the door pushed it open for me.

I stepped in hesitantly.

Papa, his wife, and her children sat together like the perfect family.

All eyes turned to me when I stepped in.

“Fiorella,” Papa said, a smile on his face. “Please. Join us.”

He was just seeing me for the first time in years and that was all he had to say to me?

Why did he even invite me then?

My stepmother didn’t even acknowledge my presence as usual.

I moved anyway and sat on the couch beside Chiara because disobeying an order from him was not advisable.

Papa exhaled and leaned forward in his seat. “I call this meeting because there are some important changes that will happen around here.”

Silence settled over the room.

No one spoke.

Lucia crossed one leg over the other, her expression neutral but I could tell she was plotting.

She was the only one with brains amongst her siblings—the ring leader and my father’s favourite daughter.

Matteo had recovered enough to sit up straight, though the tightness around his mouth gave him away.

Chiara leaned back with her arms folded, staring at the floor.

My stepmother remained perfectly still beside him, her hands folded on her lap.

Papa clasped his hands together.

“This family comes with responsibilities,” he said calmly. “Responsibilities I have carried for many years.”

He leaned back slightly, studying each of us.

“I am not getting any younger,” he continued. “Which means it is time to start thinking about succession.”

The word made Lucia straighten, and Matteo looked suddenly interested.

Succession?

Papa rarely spoke about business in front of everyone.

Chiara’s lips curved with confidence.

“I have spent the last few years considering who among you is capable of carrying this family forward,” he continued.

His gaze moved from Chiara to Lucia, then to Matteo.

Then it stopped on me.

“You all know who I am,” he said. “And you already know family means more to me than anything else.”

I almost laughed at his hypocrisy.

The same man who sold me to someone old enough to be my grandfather when I was nineteen.

But I didn’t say anything.

Papa continued.

“A Don does not rule forever. One day someone else must sit in this chair and command the famiglia.”

Matteo leaned forward. “And you think one of us can’t?”

Papa ignored him.

“This is not a playground or a company you inherit because you want it,” he said. “This is power, loyalty, and… blood.”

All eyes turned to me again.

Papa’s gaze held mine. “You.”

My chest tightened.

“You will take my place as Don.”

Matteo let out a harsh laugh.

Chiara shot to her feet. “You can’t be serious, Papa. Fiorella left years ago. She knows nothing about this family.”

Lucia stared at him. “We all know I’m the most competent candidate here.”

“That’s enough, ladies,” my stepmother finally spoke. “You’re women. Speak softly and only when spoken to.”

I wished she had taken her own advice.

A moment of silence passed.

“You… want me to take your place?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

It was logical for me to be his heir as I was his only biological child, but I had expected Matteo to be chosen—because he was male.

Or Lucia because she was the golden child.

Not me.

I wanted no part of this.

Papa nodded. “You’ll be the Don after me.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of it.

I swallowed hard. “Papa… you can’t just—this… this is insane!”

“You are my blood!” he snapped, his gaze never leaving mine. “My first and only biological child. This is your responsibility, not a gift. I wish you didn’t have to be my successor.”

I felt heat rise in my chest—fear, disbelief, and something else.

No.

This wasn’t happening.

I could feel the hate dripping out of my step-sibling’s gaze—they would try to gang up on me for this in private.

And all for something I didn’t want.

The door opened behind me, and the room shifted.

Papa stood immediately.

A strange feeling crawled up my spine, but I was still too distracted by the conversation to turn around.

“Aww, such a happy family,” a dreadfully familiar voice boomed across the room. “Did I miss the best part?”

Everyone else in the room stood up.

I followed suit slowly and turned to the source of the voice.

My heart dropped, and my throat suddenly went dry.

It was Rhys fucking Gravari.

He stood there with a wide grin, his hand in his pockets as he stared at me. “Oh, I haven’t missed it.”

Papa rushed forward for a handshake. “Benvenuto, Don.”

Rhys didn’t take his hand or even respond to him—he just kept staring at me with a smirk on his face.

I turned back to my father. “What is he doing here? How… how do you know this man?”

Papa walked closer to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “This is Don Gravari. He is your husband-to-be, Fiorella.”

Everything in my head just stopped working.