The Moretti mansion had regained its calm, but the air still smelled of gunpowder and blood. The guards were cleaning up the remains of the attack, dragging away the bodies of Dino's men and disposing of the evidence that could not reach the police.Alejandro watched from his study, a cigar between his fingers, his gaze lost in the security cameras. His kingdom was still standing, but the war was far from over.The door opened, and Miguel entered discreetly.—The Colombians are wounded but alive. We left them where you ordered, boss.Alejandro nodded.—Good. Let word spread about what happened tonight. I want everyone in the city to know what happens when they mess with me.—Understood, boss.Miguel left without a sound.Alejandro put out his cigar and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt like a king, but also like a weary man. Power was a burden that kept him alert, a balance between brutality and
Days of calm followed Dino’s attack. The wretched man was recovering slowly in a hospital, his lover never leaving his side—nor did Alejandro’s informant.A doctor had been paid a large sum, not only to keep an eye on Dino but also to ensure that if he opened his mouth, his days on this earth would come to a swift end.At the Moretti mansion, things were running smoothly until Ramiro gave his report to the boss.When he entered Alejandro’s office, he wasn’t alone—his wife, Isabela, was with him. That was still unusual for Ramiro, but the boss never strayed from her side, and neither did she from his.Ramiro hesitated, unsure of how to greet them.— "Boss… Ma’am..."— "Relax, Ramiro. You can speak to me as you always have… Isabela and I are one now. Whatever you have to say to me, she will hear as well."— "As you say, boss."— "What news do you have, Ramiro?" Isabela asked, sitting on a leather armchai
The night had settled in with the chill of a premonitory hourglass. In a hidden hangar on the outskirts of Bogotá, a shipment that would define the underworld’s future awaited its turn.Meanwhile, in the office of her secure hideout, Isabela meticulously reviewed every detail of the plan. In front of a screen displaying routes, maps, and checkpoints, her gaze hardened with the determination of a queen under siege.—Ramiro, check the land and air routes again. There must be no room for error —she ordered, her voice low and firm, each word imbued with authority.Ramiro, fully aware that any mistake could be fatal, nodded without hesitation.The operation was as bold as it was necessary: delivering a shipment of high-caliber weapons to a Mexican guerrilla cell that, in the shadows, defied the imposed order.Armored trucks, armed escorts, and meticulously chosen routes were part of an intricate plan that only someone with Isabela’s
It was 5 in the morning when Isabela woke up thinking about her children. She longed to hear their childish voices and tell them that today she would go shopping to bring them many gifts and souvenirs from her trip to Colombia.She called her husband, hoping to hear his voice, but her phone was off. That struck her as odd.For a moment, jealousy made her imagine him in another woman's arms. But then she decided to call one of her children’s caregivers.— Natasha, my…— Is it mom? — Mateo asked excitedly.Isabela was happy to hear her son's voice.— Give the phone to Mateo, Natasha.— Yes, ma’am.Excited, Mateo said: — Are you coming back soon, mom? My sister and I miss you so much.— I miss you both too. I just have one more thing to do here and then I’ll be back home, I promise, my love.Isabela squinted her eyes as she listened to Mateo’s voice on the other end of the line. Her eyes
After loving each other and feeling free once again, without the barriers of the harsh reality that had separated them, Alejandro and Isabela slept in each other's arms, something they hadn't done in months of cold distance.While they slept in Alejandro's penthouse, Ramiro woke up on the couch in the house where the boss's wife was supposed to be.Ramiro paled at the thought of what awaited him once his boss found out that she had deceived him and escaped his watch.In the morning, Ramiro decided to call Alejandro to inform him about what had happened with his wife.—Ramiro, did you sleep well? —asked Isabela, who was the one to answer Alejandro’s phone.—Next time, Ramiro, I suggest you be more careful. My queen is a master of deception, as subtle and dangerous as her sweet voice.Kissing Isabela’s neck, he made her laugh. Ramiro didn’t know whether to be relieved that she was with the boss or worried.The on
The private jet landed on the private airstrip of the Moretti residence in Italy. The afternoon was bathed in golden hues from the setting sun, and the fresh air carried the scent of the vineyards surrounding the property.As soon as Alejandro Moretti stepped down the stairs of the plane, hand in hand with his wife, a pair of childish giggles broke the stillness.Mateo ran toward him with open arms, followed by his younger sister, who could barely keep her balance in her excitement to reach her parents.—Dad! —Mateo shouted, throwing himself into his arms.Alejandro caught him effortlessly, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing. His expression, always calculated and cold in the business world, transformed into a warm and genuine smile.—My little warrior! Look how much you’ve grown! —he exclaimed, kissing him on the forehead before taking the little girl in his other arm—. And my princess! Who gave you permission to
The night was peaceful at the Moretti mansion. Alejandro slept deeply, his head resting on Isabela’s chest as she gently stroked his hair.The murmuring wind swayed the curtains, and the steady rhythm of his breathing gave her a sense of tranquility.After moments of tension, this was a gift they both cherished.Their bodies were united, not by desire, but by love. They were two silent, calm souls, detached from the war that might be brewing outside.Their breathing was slow and deep, sleep claiming them while the serenity of the night embraced them.But peace never lasted long in the world of the Morettis.The sound of a vibrating phone on the nightstand shattered their calm and their rest.It was Alejandro’s secure phone. He had left it there, no longer needing to hide it from his wife.Isabela’s eyes fluttered open. Late-night calls were no longer strange to her now that she was part of her husband’
The road stretched ahead of them, dark and relentless, as the convoy of vehicles sped toward the industrial zone.Isabela sat in the back seat of the armored car, mentally reviewing every step of her plan. Beside her, Miguel drove with the focus of a man who knew this night could be his last.—"We're five minutes from the meeting point, boss,"— he reported, not taking his eyes off the road.Isabela nodded. Her gaze was fixed on the screen of Alejandro's secure phone. No message, no sign.Her stomach churned with uncertainty, but she couldn't afford to fear or doubt.Adrik and her father's men would be waiting at the agreed crossing. If everything went according to plan, they could intercept the ambush before it was too late.But in the world of the mafia, plans rarely unfolded perfectly.—"We've reached the crossing, boss,"— Miguel announced.In the distance, the headlights illuminated a group of vehic
Moretti Mansion — 10:45 p.m.The sound of the engines fading away left an echo that refused to die. The flashing lights of the police vehicles still danced in the reflection of the windows, like a reminder of the unreal.A dense, suffocating stillness filled the entire house.Isabela slowly descended the marble staircase. The heel of her sandals echoed hollowly, funereally. She stopped on the last step, her gaze lost in the now-closed gate. The air seemed to weigh tons.—They took him... —she whispered, more to herself than to the servants and guards who pretended not to breathe behind the columns.She let the glass in her hand fall. There was no shatter. The crystal rolled and clinked softly, as if it too knew better than to break the silence.Then, the unthinkable happened.A dry, savage roar burst from her chest. She ripped off her silk coat and threw it to the ground. She stormed into the house as if h
The city trembled under the constant rain, as if trying to wash away its own conscience. But for Vittorio Salvi, the water cleansed nothing. Each drop was a reminder of his failure, of the impunity that rose with the face of a king and the perfume of a queen.Salvi’s office, usually a mess of papers and spilled coffee, had been transformed into a kind of war room. On the corkboard, photos pinned with red tacks drew lines toward names, locations, front businesses, legal aliases and street nicknames.Alejandro Moretti was at the center, of course, but the real challenge was the figure holding everything from the shadows: Isabela Moretti. But she was clean and untouchable.Salvi didn’t say it to anyone, but he had begun to fear her more than Alejandro himself.— That damn woman has steel teeth and lava in her veins instead of blood. Alejandro’s luckier than he thinks to have her as a wife…— I’d like to think my wife woul
The rain fell without strength, but with persistence, as if the sky refused to let the day dawn in peace.In an old shed on the outskirts of the city, hidden under a false name and documents bought with the urgency of fear, Ramiro tried to sleep with a pistol under his pillow and his conscience devouring his soul.He had done the unthinkable.He had talked.He had signed papers, handed over documents.He had sold out Alejandro Moretti.His former boss.The man to whom he had sworn loyalty.Now, he hoped the law would protect him from what was coming next.But the law didn’t know the whole picture.Alejandro Moretti wasn’t alone.A soft knock on the door made him sit up abruptly.Three knocks. Then silence.—“Who is it?” he shouted, his voice rough.—“It’s me, brother.” The voice on the other side of the door was warm. Familiar.Ramiro breathed out, approached the door w
Isabela’s kisses had calmed, for a moment, the whirlwind of thoughts assaulting his soul.Alejandro had always prided himself on staying one step ahead of his enemies, but he had never imagined the enemy would be living under his own roof.That he had unknowingly opened the doors of his home—and his heart—to him.Alejandro valued Ramiro. He considered him his greatest ally, a friend.— This damn business destroys loyalties and affections — he murmured to himself.Looking at Isabela sleeping beside him, Alejandro felt a hollow in his stomach.The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon seeping through the linen curtains.Isabela slept deeply, wrapped in white sheets, her serene expression contrasting with the storm Alejandro carried inside.He had loved her body with desperation, like someone clinging to a last breath before drowning.But neither her skin, nor he
Villa Moretti woke up under an overcast sky. The sea, which usually roared with poetic strength, seemed unusually silent that morning. As if it too sensed that something ominous was coming.Alejandro had been awake since before dawn. He hadn’t slept well since Salvi’s name reappeared on his radar.He checked every message, every email, every file, as if he could catch a ghost before it slipped through his walls.Sitting in front of the large window in his study, his eyes were fixed on the fog over the cliff. In his lap, the Protocollo Nero dossier lay open.A map of connections, allies, enemies, possible traitors, and dormant accounts in tax havens. Each page, a piece of his empire. Each red mark, a target.—Did you get any sleep? —asked Isabela, walking in with a silk coat and her hair still damp.Alejandro closed the dossier and slid it back into the safe.—Sleep is for those without enemies at cour
The Moretti villa in Costa Esmeralda looked like something out of a painting. The sea crashed elegantly against the cliffs, bougainvillea hung from the balconies, and the Italian sun bathed the stone façade as if blessing every inch of the property.But Alejandro didn’t trust perfect places. Nor did he trust weeks that were too quiet. His instinct told him he couldn’t rely on the apparent calm. An enemy could appear from anywhere.Since his return to Italy, he had followed the protocol: reappear as a businessman, cleanse his image in society through charity events, discreet visits to his lawyers, and zero contact with the past.A resurrected ghost in Italian suits and diplomatic manners.And yet, something felt… off. Something in the air unsettled him, as if the wind was warning of a storm, even though the sun reigned high in the sky.—"What’s worrying you, Alejandro?"—Isabela asked, approaching him as he stood on the
The journey back to Italy was as pleasant as it was safe.On a private jet, Alejandro and his family returned without setbacks, leaving behind Greece and a person they had grown to appreciate very much.Miguel.He had decided to stay in Greece with his woman, who was expecting his child.At first, Alejandro didn’t like the idea. Miguel had served him since he was very young, loyally by his side for years.But convinced by Isabela, Alejandro let Miguel go so he could marry Katherine, his former nurse, and start his family in Greece.Miguel would not serve Nikos; his loyalty was only to Alejandro.Melina, at her son Nikos’s request, got him a job at the Italian embassy. Miguel was now an honorable citizen with no criminal past.Grateful to Melina, Isabela left a friend behind—free from the hell she herself wished to escape.While Alejandro and his family arrived at their mansion in Cos
The sun slowly descended over the Greek horizon, tinting the columns of the Mikelos mansion in gold, as if time wished to linger a few more sacred seconds in that twilight moment.Isabela sat on the upper terrace, the one that opened directly to the Aegean Sea, where the sea breeze carried echoes of her childhood among ruins, bougainvilleas, and memories that hurt and caressed all at once.The air smelled of jasmine and hot stone, of history and broken promises. Her father’s mansion stood tall, surrounded by vineyards that stretched across the hills, as if the past tried to hold her tight.And yet, despite being surrounded by people who had watched her grow and appreciated her, despite her last name and her story, Isabela no longer felt at home—she felt like a guest in that enormous mansion.Her brother Nikos laughed in the music room, accompanied by his fiancée and by Alejandro and his children, Mateo and sweet little Lucía.
In the discussion between the Mikelos sisters, there was an involuntary witness. Nikos.He hadn't meant to overhear, he had returned to the mansion with the intention of talking to Isabela and asking her some questions.His fiancée was in agreement. She was having a good time with Isabela's children. Nikos's fiancée was a school teacher, she loved children and found Mateo and Lucía fascinating.Although he heard everything, he didn't mention a word to anyone about what he'd overheard.That night, he dined with Alejandro, whom he liked very much, and the entire Moretti family. Fífi was not invited to the dinner.The morning light broke through the windows of the house, tinting the linen curtains in golden tones.Nikos had woken up early and was watching the sea horizon from his room. His fiancée was still asleep, but he had spent the night awake, torn between the ghosts of the past and the urgent need to act.Hi