Isabela lay beside Alejandro, so close yet careful not to hurt him.But Alejandro missed his wife, so with furtive caresses, he led Isabela into desire.— You know we can’t, my love...— Who said we can’t, my queen?— Alejandro, you’re not well yet and I don’t want to hurt you.— I miss feeling you, my queen. Let me take you to where my imagination is already making love to you.With soft and intense kisses, Alejandro led Isabela to a passionately deep climax. The king possessed his queen, claiming his crown in Isabela’s heart.Christopoulos was no longer someone Alejandro worried about—Isabela belonged to him, and no one could take her away.With her by his side, Alejandro felt strong again, and her love gave him the energy to become the man he used to be before he was hurt.If Christopoulos dared approach his wife, he would be ready to face him.Alejandro Moretti’s certainty that th
In a luxurious room of white marble and antique chandeliers, Alejandro was enjoying dinner with his family.Isabela smiled, happy to see her husband so recovered, as if nothing had ever happened. His determination was astonishing; when Alejandro said enough to something, it became law.A law he had enforced many times, even upon his own body. The king did not bow to anything or anyone.Especially not when someone tried to take away something so precious to him—his queen.While Alejandro and Isabela listened to their children express how happy they were that their father was well, Christopoulos was twirling a ring between his fingers, staring out the window of his car.—Are you sure she’s there? —he asked coldly one of his trusted men.—Yes, sir. A source confirmed it.—But she’s not alone, sir. Her husband is with her, and their children too. —the man said with fear.
Christopoulos left the villa where Isabela and her family were, with a bitter taste in his mouth.He had arrived with confident steps and now walked away with a sour sensation in his chest, though that didn’t mean defeat.As he got into his car to return home, Christopoulos was already scheming in his mind how to get his way.— Don't think you've beaten me again, Alejandro Moretti. Isabela will be mine, even if she doesn’t want it.Christopoulos' mansion was imposing, dominating the city with its neoclassical architecture that reflected the power he had accumulated over the years.The man, with a perfectly sculpted face and calculating gaze, stood in his office, in front of a mahogany wood desk that seemed as cold as his character.The velvet red curtains swayed slowly, as if trying to spy on his thoughts.As his mind turned over everything that had just happened at the Moretti residence, his anger was transfor
Night had fallen like a thick shroud over the Villa where the Morettis resided, but the calm and silence were deceiving.From the shadows surrounding the property, a drone observed every movement of the guards with precision.Damián Barragán, with a hidden earpiece and eyes of steel, waited for the exact moment to strike.His unshakable composure made him look like an eagle waiting to pounce.— In three… two… one… now —he whispered.A muffled explosion rocked the northern wall, raising a cloud of dust and disorienting the men stationed in that area.It wasn’t a large-scale attack, but rather a well-planned distraction. While the guards rushed toward the noise, Barragán’s men infiltrated through the eastern side, silent as specters in the shadows.Inside the villa, luxury stood in stark contrast to the imminent chaos. The chandeliers hung motionless above Alejandro and his family, who began to grow uneasy due to
While Isabela breathed hatred and vengeance for her captor and his filthy intentions, Alejandro roared with fury like a wounded lion.The hall was wrapped in a tense silence, broken only by the sound of Alejandro's footsteps as he approached Barragán.The partial blackout had given him the advantage he needed against his enemy, although he knew Damián Barragán was not the one he had to worry about now.The dense atmosphere was charged with aggression, like a storm sweeping everything in its path.Alejandro seemed calm, but his tense body revealed a stillness more dangerous than any scream or threat.Barragán was lying on the floor, reduced to powerlessness by Alejandro himself.Alejandro's men had killed most of Barragán’s men, while among Alejandro's own, some were wounded and others—like the orange-beret men—had casualties too, though some remained unharmed.Among the wounded, nurse Katherine was tending to t
The roar of the engine was swallowed by the night as they approached the Villa.Ramiro stepped out first, his senses on high alert, and Alejandro followed with Isabela still in his arms. She was so exhausted she had fallen asleep resting on Alejandro’s shoulder.The night breeze caressed Isabela’s face, as if the wind itself wanted to console her after the hell she had just escaped.Isabela slowly opened her eyes, recognizing the ground beneath her feet, though it wasn’t quite as she remembered.The impact was immediate.The Villa was… destroyed.Marble columns broken in half.Shattered reinforced windows.Fire had licked the walls, leaving its blackened mark on what once stood as a symbol of elegance.The main gate hung from a single hinge, like a defeated soldier.The silence was another character there—thick, grieving.Isabela couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow as she remembere
The mansion rose like a relic of time, untouched in its luxury and elegance, as if Andreas Mikelos had foreseen that one day his princess Isabela would return as queen to take her place in his empire. But beyond all that gleaming marble, the imposing columns, and the windows that opened to a turquoise sea stirred by the Aegean wind, there were secrets buried within those walls. Secrets that now demanded to come out of the shadows into the light.— Now that the children are asleep, I want you to come with me. — Just like the day you revealed your secrets by opening your secret vault, it's time you learned the secrets Andreas Mikelos kept.Isabela stopped in front of one of the double doors in the east wing. Alejandro followed behind, silent, watchful, walking with the firmness of an imposing emperor.— It's here… — said Isabela in barely a whisper, pulling a hidden key from inside a solid gold figurine. She inserted it into the loc
While Melina waited for the general’s arrival, Isabela let her eyes wander over several photographs.—Are you just going to sit there doing nothing, Isabela?– asked Alejandro, sitting on the edge of the desk, gazing at his wife with feline eyes.—No. But I’ll give Melina a little head start.– she replied, her mouth curling into a smirk that amused Alejandro.—Almost makes me feel sorry for that poor fool.—Why?– asked Isabela, locking eyes with Alejandro.—Because Melina might feel pity for him for being the eldest son of her husband Leonidas.– leaning in, he kissed her on the lips.—But you won’t show him any mercy, my queen.Alejandro felt proud of his wife, and he didn’t want to miss a single move she made against Christopoulos and his father’s enemies.Turning his eyes to a recording, Alejandro suggested:—You could start with this... I’m sure the national press wo
The echo of the door clicking shut still vibrated against the walls of Salvi’s office when he suddenly stood up.The chair screeched violently as it was shoved back, hitting the wall behind him.For a few seconds, only the sound of his rage-filled breathing filled the room.His chest rose and fell as if he had just run a marathon.He looked at the envelope. He didn’t touch it.The photo of Grazia—his daughter—was still there, pinned like a dagger.Her childlike face, so much like his own, so pure, so unaware of the hell closing in around her.Then he shifted his gaze to the corner of the desk, where a photo of Cassandra, his legal wife, sat.She smiled in a garden full of lavender, holding onto his arm as if they were truly happy.— “Goddamn it!” — Salvi growled, and with a sweeping motion, cleared the surface of the desk, sending papers, pens, and his coffee mug crashing to the floor.The rage devo
Outside, the light rain veiled the rooftops with an almost invisible curtain.Inside, in the basement of an old building that served as the operations center for the “Wolves” unit, a man watched three screens at once.He had a shaved head, steel-colored eyes, and a scar across his chin — a reminder of the unofficial wars he had fought.His name was Dante, one of the most loyal soldiers to Isabela Moretti, and also the most dangerous. In another life, he had been part of a tactical intelligence unit, until the system betrayed him and he joined the “Wolves,” a unit trained by Isabela’s father.Once Andreas was murdered and Isabela asked Alejandro to hide them in Italy, Dante swore loyalty — first to Isabela and then to Alejandro Moretti.Since then, he rented out his talents to the highest bidder. But with the Morettis, he didn’t charge. He only owed favors.Isabela had asked him to trac
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