Mag-log inAlessandro’s POV I never expected Amara to come to Genoa. Even after they called her, even after the threats, I kept telling myself she wouldn’t show up. She was pregnant. Vulnerable. Surrounded by people who cared about her. I believed—no, I needed to believe—that someone would stop her. But here she was. Clinging to me as much as she could, her swollen stomach pressing against my side, her tears soaking into my already blood-stained shirt. Every sob that left her lips felt like a knife carving deeper into my chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I had planned to calm things down somehow. I didn’t know how—I was tied up, beaten, surrounded—but I believed I could take the fall alone. I would say whatever they wanted to hear, confess to whatever lie they needed, just to keep her safe. But now that Amara was here, all I could think of was how many people might get hurt because of me. “Leave now, Ama,” I whispered urgently, my voice breaking. “Please. I’ll beg them not t
Amara’s POVEver since I returned from the hospital after what happened with Ginevra, Alessandro and I had not spoken—not properly. Not the way we always did.At first, Damian kept saying Alessandro was busy. That he was tied up with work in Genoa. Then the words changed. Alessandro was almost done. He just needed to wrap things up. He would be home soon.I believed him.Or maybe I wanted to.I held on to the image of Alessandro walking back through the door the same way he left—calm, steady, alive. That hope was the only thing keeping my heart from collapsing under the weight of waiting. But as the days passed, patience slowly turned into fear. A quiet fear at first. Then a louder one.Something felt wrong.I couldn’t explain it, but my body knew before my mind could accept it.And today proved me right.My phone buzzed while I was sitting alone, one hand resting on my stomach, the other clutching the edge of the couch as it could anchor me. I glanced at the screen, expecting nothing
Victor’s POV Matteo went home that night with the intention of teaching Alessandro a lesson—not destroying him. That part mattered. As much as my words had poisoned his thoughts, Matteo still wanted to believe there was a better way. He told himself he would talk. That he would look Alessandro in the eye and demand the truth. That if Alessandro explained himself—if there was even a shred of honesty left—then maybe things wouldn’t have to end the way I knew they would. But belief is fragile. And it shattered the moment Matteo stepped into his room. He felt it immediately—that shift in the air, the faint disorder only someone intimate with his space would notice. A drawer is not fully closed. The bed was disturbed. Something moved. Someone had been there. And there was only one person it could be. Alessandro. That single realization doubled the hurt inside Matteo’s chest. It wasn’t just suspicion anymore—it was confirmation. To Matteo, it felt like betrayal stacked on betraya
Alessandro’s POV Matteo showed up later, when the sun was already high in the sky. He looked… different. Not tired. Not irritated. If anything, he looked like a man who had just recovered something precious he thought was lost. That strange glow was written all over his face. I didn’t ask where he had been or what had happened. I convinced myself it must have been a bad transaction with a client—nothing unusual in his line of work. And asking questions now would only make me seem suspicious. So I waited, letting him speak first, if he chose to. He went straight to his room. The silence that followed was heavy. I knew immediately he had noticed. The room wasn’t the way he left it. No matter how careful I’d tried to be, some things couldn’t be unseen. When he came back out, his eyes told me everything—I was already caught. Before he could say a word, I decided to get ahead of it. “The room was messy,” I said quickly. “So I decided to clean it up. I needed something to pass the t
Victor’s POVEven after I slid Alessandro’s picture across the table, Matteo didn’t understand immediately.He stared at it for a long moment, brows drawn together, confusion outweighing suspicion. I could almost see his mind searching for meaning that wasn’t there yet. That was when I reached into my jacket and brought out the second picture—the insignia, the faces, the unmistakable mark of La Camorra.The moment his eyes landed on it, everything changed.Shock hit first. Then disappointment. Then fear—raw and unfiltered.His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as the truth finally sank in. I didn’t rush him. Men like Matteo needed a second to fully feel the fall before you explained how far down it went.“La Camorra sent Alessandro,” I said calmly. “Not as a friend. As a spy. To watch you. To confirm everything you’ve been doing.”I didn’t need to add much more. Matteo already knew what this meant. He had shown Alessandro everything—his routes, his clients, his habits. He hadn’t
Alessandro’s POV I hadn’t given up. No matter how many times Damian warned me, no matter how carefully he chose his words, the decision stayed rooted in me. Matteo could still be redeemed. I believed that—stubbornly, irrationally, maybe even dangerously—but I believed it all the same. I told Damian to look through any of my inherited businesses, anything legitimate enough, quiet enough, where Matteo could work without raising suspicion. Something far from Genoa’s shadows. Something that could give him a reason to stop running. Damian said he would work on it. But I knew him too well. Beneath his agreement was resistance, heavy and unspoken. He wanted me to stop. He wanted me to let Matteo fall and step back into the safety of La Camorra’s approval. To him, this was already a lost cause. Damian knew me, though. He knew once I fixed my mind on something, pulling me away from it was like trying to stop a storm with bare hands. That was why he hadn’t argued further—because h







