Diamond Queen

Fifteen years ago

“Dad, does mummy hate us?”

Eight-year-old Victoria asked, clutching the white and silver-studded teddy bear designed specifically for her by her father, Damien De Luca. Smiling down at his daughter, whose gray eyes shimmered with innocence, Damien crouched to her height.

“Honey, mummy doesn’t hate us, okay? She simply went on a vacation with her friend,” he explained softly, gently smoothing down her blonde hair.

Tilting her head to the side, Victoria’s brow furrowed. “But the other day, she said she hates us. Was she lying?”

Damien exhaled heavily. How could he explain to a child that her mother meant every word, and that she had already signed the divorce papers? Praying for any kind of interruption, he pulled her into a tight hug instead.

Right then, a well-built bodyguard walked up to them, giving Damien a sharp nod.

“Honey, father has to go to work now. I promise to get you more diamond-studded teddies when I return, alright?” Damien smiled, gently breaking the hug.

Victoria beamed. She watched Damien stride out of the living room before running straight to the balcony to watch him drive out of the compound.

Her tiny brows furrowed when she saw the chauffeur frantically gesturing for her father to hurry. Thinking they were simply running late, she brushed it off and turned to head back inside. But the exact moment her father stepped into the SUV, the vehicle went up in a blinding sheet of flames.

PRESENTLY

The fire that consumed Damien De Luca’s SUV didn't just kill a father; it incinerated the innocent, gray-eyed girl who had been waiting on the balcony with a silver-studded teddy bear.

Out of those ashes, a creature of pure ice and unyielding stone was born.

Victoria De Luca learned a brutal lesson at eight years old: mercy was a luxury for the dead, and power was the only shield against a cruel world. Fifteen years later, the little girl was gone, replaced by a ruthless Empress who traded stuffed toys for real diamonds—and real blood.

Now, the only screams she listened to belonged to those foolish enough to cross her.

“Boss… please… I beg of you… let me go… I’ll pay you back in two weeks! Please spare my pregnant wife!!”

The agonizing cries of a man undergoing a brutal interrogation echoed through the vast, empty aquarium room. 

Underneath his desperate pleading were the low, terrified whimpers of a frightened woman.

“You think I’d let you go after the stunt you pulled?” A chilling, emotionless feminine voice rang through the space, followed by a dark, soft chuckle.

Stepping down from her custom, diamond-studded chair, Victoria walked toward the pregnant woman who was crouching on the floor, hands shielding her head.

“You left your wife alone for months after you took a loan from me. Now that I’ve come to collect my money, you dare to play the 'doting husband' in front of my face? How despicable,” Victoria hissed.

She raised a gloved hand toward the whimpering woman, but paused mid-air when the man shrieked in terror.

“I’m wrong! Please forgive me! I’ll pay it back in two weeks! Empress Victoria! I beg of you! Mercy!” The man crawled forward on his knees, desperately reaching out to grab the hem of her coat.

The moment his bruised, bloodied skin made contact with her clothing, her guards sprang into action.

Peeling his broken body away from her, they dragged him back into the center of the room and began administering a ruthless beating.

Victoria watched with a chilling, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“Darling, tell me. Should I kill him, or would you like to do the honors?” Victoria asked, turning her manicured gaze to the terrified wife.

On cue, Kany, clad in a sleek black leather outfit, strode over to the pregnant woman and presented a heavy, silver P226 pistol.

Her heart racing, the woman’s eyes darted frantically between the feared Mafia Empress, the cold steel of the weapon, and her disloyal husband.

“Will you kill him? Or should I help you?” Victoria asked again, taking a slow, elegant step closer.

Noticing the woman’s intense trembling, Victoria flashed a remarkably sweet smile, putting her deep dimples on display. “Come on, honey. I don’t bite.”

The guards stepped back, leaving the bloodied man groaning on the concrete floor as they melted back into the shadows.

Terrified of offending the beautiful she-devil standing over her, the woman took the gun, her hands shaking as she aimed it directly at her husband. The man's jaw went slack. 

His eyes widened in absolute horror as he watched his once-submissive wife aim a lethal firearm at his chest.

But who else could he blame? He had abandoned his pregnant wife to squander a fourteen-million-dollar loan on cheap thrills, bitches and booze.

“Olive… Olive, my dearest, please put the gun down,” he stammered, tears and snot staining his bruised face as he tried to reason with her.

Olive, whose green floral dress was heavily splattered with his blood, ignored his pleas entirely. She spat at his feet. “You dare beg me now? You left me! You called my unborn child a bastard! You called me a slut, and now you want mercy? I hate you, Clark! I hate you!”

She choked back a sob, stretching her arms out as she struggled against the heavy weight of the pistol. Her index finger slipped over the cold trigger.

Sensing her hesitation, Victoria glided over elegantly, crouching down beside her. “Think wisely before you pull that trigger, little bird. The aftermath of your choice here will be your ultimate undoing,” Victoria whispered, her gloved fingers trailing softly down Olive’s exposed spine, sending a violent shiver down the woman's back.

Victoria had given her a strict ultimatum earlier: either the syndicate would execute Clark, or Olive would take her own vengeance.

Steeling her heart, Olive cleared her throat, her voice suddenly ringing out with absolute resolution. “I will kill him myself.”

Victoria giggled delightedly, standing up and clapping her hands together in a slow, mocking rhythm. “That’s the spirit, girl! I can assure you, your child will grow up thankful for what you did today.”

Hearing those words, an overwhelming wave of pressure crashed over Olive. What does she mean? Why do I feel like I'm stepping into a trap? she thought, her eyes locking back onto Clark’s pleading face.

But the memory of his betrayal twisted her confusion into pure, unadulterated disgust.

“Well, screw you!!” Olive screamed.

BANG.

Right before her eyes, Clark collapsed backward onto the cold floor. A neat, dark bullet hole bloomed instantly right between his eyes, blood pooling rapidly around his head.

“You are quite brave, Olive.”

Victoria’s smooth, emotionless voice drifted from directly behind her. Before Olive could process the words, the cold metal muzzle of Victoria's custom-built gun was pressed firmly against her scalp.

Olive’s heart stopped, her veins throbbing with pure terror as the steel bit into her skin. “E… Empress… I… I did exactly what you asked me to do,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“What did I ask you to do? Honey, I didn’t ask you to do a single thing. I simply asked you to make a choice. I never told you to execute my prisoner, did I?” Victoria asked, a malicious, stunning smile gracing her features.

Standing in the background, Kany kept her expression perfectly blank, though she secretly wanted to sigh.

Her boss had explicitly told her to hand over the gun to let Olive kill him. Victoria simply loved to mentally torture her targets.

At a loss for words, Olive swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the sharp, metallic click of Victoria cocking the pistol echoed through the quiet aquarium. “I have nothing left to lose anyway, Olive thought,” bracing for the impact of the bullet.

But death never came.

Instead, Victoria lowered the weapon, turning on her heel and walking away with a slow, hypnotic sway of her hips. Her long, waist-length blonde hair—a striking contrast to her dark underworld aura—bounced perfectly as she exited the room.

Olive snapped her eyes open, her face a mask of profound confusion and fear.

“The Empress never had any intention of killing you,” Kany informed her, offering a practiced, plastic smile as she gestured toward the secure exit where a fleet of luxury sedans sat waiting. “On the contrary, she wishes for you to live a pleasant life without ever having to depend on scum again.”

Olive’s jaw dropped. “What…”

Before she could speak, Kany pressed a bank cheque into her trembling, blood-stained hands.

“Take this, leave the country, and start a completely new life. But remember this: the next time my boss sees your face, she won't hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Without waiting for a response, Kany turned and slipped into the passenger seat of the lead black sedan. Within moments, the fleet tore out of the compound, leaving Olive standing completely alone in the courtyard.

Inside the luxury vehicle, Victoria took a slow, deep drag from a slim cigarette, watching the international business news flash across her tablet screen. After a long moment of heavy silence, her gray eyes darkened.

“Kany. Any news on my weapon designer?” she asked coldly.

Kany, who was busy reloading her sidearm, turned around to face her leader. “We finally got solid intel on him. His name is Giordano Salvatore. To the public, he's the city's most coveted bachelor and the brilliant billionaire CEO of DanTech. But the cybersecurity firm is a mere front for his true operations. In the underworld, he controls the largest black-market manufacturing corporation for high-grade cyber ammunition and military weapon systems.”

Hearing the briefing, a sharp, calculating smirk spread across Victoria’s lips. She had known his name for a while, but she had never had a reason to cross paths with his empire.

Until now.

“Seems like we will be meeting very soon, Giordano.”

Ever since she received an encrypted anonymous file two years ago revealing that her father’s death was an orchestrated execution rather than an accident, Victoria had been obsessed with acquiring high-yield tactical weapons.

Society expected her to take her evidence to the authorities, but the trauma of watching her father explode to pieces had stripped her of any respect for justice.

She was a broken doll, entirely void of empathy, fueled solely by a thirst for absolute vengeance. And she was going to tear down whoever planned that explosion, piece by piece.

Turning her cold gaze out the tinted window, she snapped her tablet shut.

“Take me straight to DanTech. It’s time to pay our new business partner a visit.”