로그인AvelineThe snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps glistened like polished silver under the clear afternoon sky.Our private jet touched down smoothly on the runway at Geneva Airport, taxied past the private hangars, and came to a quiet stop.The door opened to a crisp, cool mountain breeze that felt sweet and pure in my lungs. It was completely different from the humid salt air of the French Riviera, carrying the familiar smell of pine forests, freshwater lakes, and absolute safety.We were home.Alejandro took my hand as we walked down the mobile stairs toward our waiting black SUV. Marco opened the rear door for us, stepping back with a respectful bow.“The estate has been fully prepared for your return, Mr. Vance, Donna Aveline,” Marco reported as we settled into the leather seats. “All interior renovations from the earlier security breach are completely finished. The new perimeter grid is active.”
AvelineThe grand conference hall of the Palais de la Méditerranée in Nice overlooked the famous Promenade des Anglais.Sunlight poured through the soaring glass arches, illuminating the polished white marble floors and sparkling crystal chandeliers. Outside, the turquoise waters of the French Riviera stretched out toward the horizon, bright and peaceful under a clear blue sky.Inside the hall, the atmosphere was charged with heavy political weight.Seated around a massive horseshoe-shaped mahogany table were fifteen senior diplomats, European Union maritime ministers, and international trade commissioners.These were the men and women who controlled the flow of commercial traffic across the Mediterranean, Atlantic, and Black Sea ports.For decades, the Dela Costa family had interacted with these international authorities through intermediaries, secret payoffs, and shadow shell companies.My late father,
AvelineTHE BRIGHT morning sun climbed higher over the French Riviera, painting the sky in deep shades of gold, orange, and soft pink.Below the cliffside villa, the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean sparkled in the clear sunlight.The heavy coastal fog that had hung over Toulon for days was completely gone, washed away by the fresh sea breeze.I stood near the edge of the stone terrace, holding a warm cup of black coffee in my hands. The air smelled of clean salt water, wild pine, and crushed lavender.For seven long years, every morning I woke up felt like stepping back into a cold, dark shadow. I used to check the corners of every room, listening for heavy footsteps, waiting for Sebastian or his guards to remind me of the cage I lived in.Today, my chest felt light. My breathing was smooth, deep, and completely unimpeded. The heavy iron weight that had rested on my shoulders since the night my family died in Naples was gone.Sebastian Ricaforte was dead. His body had been clear
AvelineThe sharp high-pitched beep of the armed detonator echoed through the stone chamber like a cold death knell.00:15... 00:14... 00:13...The red digital display on the support pillars flickered wildly, counting down the seconds before the plastic charges would shear through the concrete foundations and collapse the entire cliffside villa into the Mediterranean Sea.Dust fell from the ancient stone ceiling in thin gray streams, filtering through the dim amber light.Alejandro didn't hesitate. With lightning speed, his powerful left arm swept across my chest, shoving me back behind the reinforced stone corner of the entryway.“Aveline, move!” Alejandro roared, shifting his broad body straight into the center of the room to draw any incoming fire away from my path.Sebastian stood ten feet away, staring at the small electronic detonator resting in his palm. He looked down at the flashing red timer, the
AvelineThe breach charge exploded against the reinforced steel door, sending a sharp flash through the corridor as the locking mechanism tore inward. Thick gray smoke poured through the opening.Alejandro moved without hesitation. He kicked the shattered door wide open and stepped through with his gun raised, his broad body forming a protective shield in front of mine.I followed immediately, gripping my sleek pistol in both hands as we entered the inner sanctuary.The chamber was enormous, carved deep into the cliffside beneath the villa. Rough stone walls surrounded polished wooden floors, while dim amber lamps mounted on stone pillars cast long, twisting shadows across the room.At the far end, wide glass doors opened onto a private boathouse, where the dark Mediterranean waves crashed violently against the rocks below.And in the center of that vast chamber stood Sebastian Ricaforte.He looked nothing like the powerful Don I had once known.His black suit was torn and stained wit
AlejandroThe cold morning fog hung heavily over the coastal cliffs outside Toulon, carrying the scent of wet limestone, pine needles, and salt spray.I stood at the edge of the tree line, lowering my tactical binoculars after studying the Moretti-Ricaforte compound through the gray mist.The villa sat on a sheer rocky outcropping above the Mediterranean, built more like a fortress than a home. Iron fences surrounded the property, security cameras watched every approach, and armed sentries patrolled the upper stone terraces.Behind me, thirty men waited in silence.The joint task force consisted of fifteen of my best Vance Security operatives, each armed with suppressed automatic rifles, and fifteen of Capo Bruno's most trusted Sicilian enforcers.Aveline stood beside me.She wore a dark tactical suit beneath her coat, her burgundy hair pulled tightly away from her face. A sleek handgun was strapped to her thigh, and her dark eyes held none of the fear I had once seen in her.She had







