**Allie** stood by the window of the Robinson estate, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her phone was still warm in her hand from the call with **Artemis.** They had gone over **Enrico’s information** and were working to finalize the next move. But as much as Allie tried to focus on the present… Her mind wandered back to the **past.** **It came out of nowhere.** A wave of nostalgia swept over her, pulling her back to a time she had tried so hard to forget. **Before Klarisse.** **Before Artemis.** **Before she had a family that truly cared.** ---Allie had been barely **seven years old** when her world shattered. Her parents… Gone. An accident. **They never came home that night.** She remembered waiting by the window, hoping for the familiar sound of her father’s car pulling into the driveway. But it never came. ---From that point on, Allie had been tossed from one **foster home** to another. Some families were kind. Others… Not so much. **She learned quick
**Venice.** The air was thick with tension, the moonlight casting long shadows over the narrow alleyways that led to the meeting point. **Allie’s** heart was pounding, but her determination was unwavering. This was it. **The moment everything would change.** ---Allie stood with her arms crossed, her gaze locked on **Artemis Robinson**, who stood a few feet away, talking quietly with his brother **Alexander.** **Alexander Robinson** paced back and forth, his jaw clenched, his face etched with frustration and worry. **“This is insane,”** Alexander muttered, his tone sharp and unyielding. **“We shouldn’t even be here.”** **“Alex—”** Artemis tried, but his older brother cut him off. **“No. This is too dangerous.”** **“Everything about this has been dangerous,”** Allie interjected, her voice sharper than she intended. **Alexander turned to face her.** **“And bringing you here makes it worse!”** ---**Allie’s fists clenched at her sides.** **“I didn’t come here to argue, Ale
The air was heavy with tension, thick with unspoken fears and uncertain loyalties. **Bronson Robinson** stood at the head of the long mahogany table, his expression grim but composed. Beside him, **Alan Fowl** sat with his hands clasped tightly, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. They were here to make a decision that would shape the future of **their families**… and the entire **Mafia underworld.** The hall was filled with representatives from the most powerful Mafia families. **The Bertollis, the Vasquezes, the Morettis, the Lucianos, the Bellinis…** All of them had come, their faces reflecting a mix of unease and impatience. **Bronson Robinson** scanned the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. He could feel the **weight of responsibility** pressing down on him. With **Alexander and Artemis away**, and **Klarisse still in Luca’s hands**, it was up to **him and Alan** to keep everything from falling apart. **Angela Robinson and Kareen Fowl** were not present at th
**Venice.** The city of canals, romance, and ancient mysteries. But for **Alexander Robinson**, it was a city haunted by the shadow of **Luca Marconi**. Tonight, Venice was not a place of beauty. It was a **battlefield**. **“Move in.”** Alexander’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of authority in it commanded immediate action. **Brandon and Lionel, his trusted right-hand men,** led their elite team into the seemingly abandoned structure that Luca Marconi had turned into a prison. It was an **old industrial warehouse**, hidden away in the heart of Venice’s labyrinthine alleys. **Dilapidated. Quiet. Deceptively so.** But Alexander knew better. **Luca never left anything to chance.** The air was thick with the scent of mold and rust. The dim glow of flickering lights overhead barely illuminated the narrow corridors. **“Check the perimeter,”** Alex ordered softly, his voice barely above a murmur. **“Stay alert.”** **Brandon and Lionel fanned out with precisi
**Venice.** A city of dreams… but tonight, it was a city of **nightmares.** **Klarisse Fowl-Robinson** sat bound and helpless in a cold, dimly lit room. Her wrists were tied tightly behind the wooden chair, and her ankles were bound to its legs. The air was damp, filled with the scent of mildew and fear. **But it wasn’t the coldness of the room that chilled Klarisse’s soul.** It was the **man sitting across from her.** **“Ahhh…”** Luca swirled the deep red wine in his glass, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. He sat leisurely, like a man savoring the fruits of a hard-fought victory. **“A fine vintage, don’t you think, Klarisse?”** His tone was mockingly polite, but his eyes… **Cold. Calculating. Cruel.** **Klarisse refused to answer.** Her jaw clenched as she stared at the floor, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed. **But her silence only fueled Luca’s amusement.** **“Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?”** Luca chuckled softly, taking another
**“Alex!”** Klarisse’s scream echoed through the cold, dimly lit room, her voice trembling with desperation. Her heart was pounding so violently that it felt as if it would burst from her chest. Her vision blurred, her body weak from exhaustion and despair. **“Alex…”** Her knees gave out. **She collapsed.** **“Boss, what are we going to do with her?”** One of Luca’s henchmen stood over Klarisse’s motionless body. His voice held no compassion. Just cold indifference. Luca Marconi stood nearby, watching with amusement as Klarisse’s body lay slumped on the floor. **“Leave her.”** Luca’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. **“She’s not going anywhere.”** **“Let her stew in her misery.”** **“Alex…”** Luca chuckled softly, swirling a glass of wine in his hand, savoring the unfolding tragedy like a fine vintage. **“You have no idea, Alexander.”** His voice was laced with venom. **“You chose to save your ex… over your wife.”** **“What a wonderf
**Venice, Midnight.** The cool breeze of the Venetian night brushed against Artemis Robinson’s face as he crouched behind a dilapidated wall. Beside him, Allie’s eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings with precision. They were close. **Very close.** After days of relentless searching and following dead ends, this time… **They were certain.** **“This is it.”**** Artemis whispered, his voice barely audible. The coordinates matched. The information extracted from Enrico D’Angelo before his transfer to a safer facility had finally paid off. **“Luca’s holding Klarisse here.”** Allie’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the building. It was an old villa on the outskirts of Venice. **Decrepit. Abandoned.** But appearances could be deceiving. **“It’s too quiet.”** Allie murmured, her instincts tingling. **“I don’t like it.”** **“Luca’s getting cocky.”**** Artemis responded, his tone grim. **“He’s confident.”** Artemis watched as the minimal security patrolled lazily. The
**The tension in the room was suffocating.** Luca Marconi’s sinister smile never faltered as he pressed the cold barrel of the gun against Klarisse’s temple. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes stared into Artemis’, silently pleading for him to do something. But Artemis couldn’t move. Neither could Allie. **Every second counted.** The air was thick with danger, the weight of Klarisse’s life hanging by a thread. **“One wrong move,”** Luca taunted, his grip on the gun tightening, **“and she dies.”** **Then it happened.** A distant noise echoed through the villa. **Footsteps.** Rapid. Urgent. They weren’t alone anymore. **“What the hell—”** Luca’s smirk faded for a moment. The sound grew louder. **A storm was coming.** **“KLARISSE!”** The voice was unmistakable. **Alex.** **The world stopped.** **“Alex?”** Klarisse’s hoarse whisper echoed through the silent room as her tear-filled eyes darted toward the source of the voice. **“No…”** Artemis muttered under his breath, his h
Spring had fully arrived in Venice, and with it came a softness in the air that even the most hardened of old Mafia families could feel. The Robinson estate’s gardens were in full bloom, roses and jasmine threading through the hedges like nature’s embroidery. On any given day, the laughter of teenagers could now be heard echoing across the open courtyards.Lucas and Liana Robinson—twins born from a bloodline of legacy, leadership, and carefully kept secrets—were no longer the children their family once protected in silence. Now teenagers, their presence in the world of the Five Families was impossible to ignore. Yet amid the lingering shadows of history, their hearts were beginning to be stirred by something much simpler, yet just as powerful: the first spark of young love.Liana sat on a marble bench beneath the flowering archway that framed one end of the courtyard. Her sketchpad rested on her lap, open to a lightly penciled drawing of the garden before her. Across from her, Matteo,
The early spring light filtered through the great windows of the Robinson estate, bathing the drawing room in soft gold. It was a rare day of calm—a brief pause in the rhythm of power plays and legacy meetings that had long ruled the Robinson and Fowl households.But today, something else stirred under the surface. Something long delayed.Artemis Robinson stood near the tall windows, his gaze fixed on the drive beyond where cherry blossoms danced in the breeze. His arms were folded, his brow slightly furrowed—his usual composure softened by the weight of the decision he was about to confirm.Allie entered the room behind him, a cup of tea in hand, her other hand resting on her small bump. She was visibly pregnant, but it hadn’t slowed her down. If anything, the coming baby had strengthened her resolve.“He’s ready,” she said softly, her voice breaking through Artemis’s thoughts.He turned to her, his face unreadable for a moment, but then he nodded. “I know.”“You’re still worried,” A
The wind was gentle that morning as the car wound through the private forest road that led to the ancestral Fowl burial grounds. The towering trees, thick with the greens of early summer, whispered softly in the hush that followed four old souls making their way toward closure.It was the first time the Robinsons had agreed to come here—to Klara Fowl’s final resting place.Bronson and Angela Robinson stepped out of the car, the air around them filled with the kind of silence that demanded reverence. The land had long been in the Fowl family, hidden and guarded, far away from the public eye and the chaos of their intertwined legacies. Now, it was just them—the original architects of what had once been a powerful alliance built on marriage, promises, and quiet betrayals.Alan and Kareen Fowl followed closely behind. They weren’t dressed in mourning, but in solemn hues: dark greys and muted blues, fitting for a day that bore no celebration but sought peace.The gravestone sat atop a smal
The wind danced through the garden once more, as if time hadn’t moved forward at all. But it had. The olive trees were taller now, the hedges more filled out, and the café near the far side of the estate had long since expanded into a flourishing local favorite. The laughter of children that once echoed through these halls had matured into deeper, more grounded voices—still joyful, still curious, but shaped by the years.Inside the villa, Klarisse sat curled up on the same couch she and Alexander had picked out together all those years ago. Her cup of tea had gone lukewarm in her hands, but she didn’t mind. She was lost in thought, eyes following the movement outside—where two teens, tall and full of energy, walked along the path near the grove.Lucas and Liana.They were no longer the small, giggling toddlers who used to chase butterflies or sword-fight with wooden sticks. Now, they were confident teenagers—Lucas tall, athletic, with the intense, thoughtful eyes of his father. Liana
The air in the countryside estate was soft and warm, touched by the late afternoon sun. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees as if whispering old secrets among the leaves. The house nestled at the top of the gentle slope still bore the faint scent of vanilla and fresh lavender from the day’s baking—something Allie had insisted on doing herself despite having a full staff.She had always loved the calm of this place, far from the legacy-filled city of deals and hidden tensions. This house, built not far from Klarisse’s family villa, had been gifted by Artemis to Allie when she told him she wanted a home—*not a monument*—for their child to grow up in. It was here that their son, Matteo, was raised in peace.Matteo Fowl was turning thirteen soon. Though still technically a child, his questions lately had carried the weight of someone beginning to see the world not just as a playground, but as a web of complicated truths. And he was beginning to ask about *them*—the cousins.That mor
The sun was warm on the stone terrace, and the faint scent of lavender and rosemary drifted through the breeze. The villa—*their* villa—sat on the edge of a hill, wrapped in golden light and surrounded by low stone walls, winding paths, and rows of olive trees. The laughter of children rang out in the garden, light and carefree, accompanied by the sound of footsteps rushing over grass.Lucas and Liana raced past the windows, their matching dark hair bouncing in the wind as they chased butterflies with paper nets and the kind of gleeful determination only young hearts could muster.Alexander Robinson stood by the large arched window, a cup of black coffee in hand, watching the twins with a quiet smile. Behind him, Klarisse Fowl-Robinson stepped into the room, barefoot and wrapped in a soft linen robe, her hair still damp from the morning shower. She approached without a word and slipped her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder.Home.It was the first time in year
The Council of Five convened in the grand chamber of the Robinson estate, its walls adorned with ancestral portraits and symbols of legacy. The air was thick with anticipation, as the members prepared to discuss a matter that could redefine the power dynamics within their intertwined families.At the head of the table sat Bronson Robinson, his demeanor as composed as ever. To his right was Alan Fowl, whose sharp eyes missed nothing. Opposite them were Angela Robinson and Kareen Fowl, both matriarchs with a deep understanding of the intricacies of their lineage. The fifth seat was occupied by Valentin Marconi, whose presence was both a reminder of past alliances and a testament to the enduring bonds between their families.Bronson began, "We are gathered here to discuss the implications of Artemis and Allie's forthcoming child. Given Artemis's position and the legacy he carries, this event cannot be viewed merely as a familial milestone."Alan nodded, "Indeed. Artemis, being the elder
The sun poured gently through the tall windows of the Robinson estate, casting warm gold hues on the white and blush-colored decorations that adorned the main hall. Delicate streamers, soft florals, and pastel balloons floated like clouds against the walls, and the scent of fresh peonies and vanilla drifted through the air. It was a peaceful day, filled with laughter and quiet joy—a stark contrast to the chaos that once defined their lives.The estate had been transformed into a soft, serene venue for a very special occasion: Allie’s baby shower.Guests bustled about with small gifts, trays of hors d'oeuvres, and glasses of sparkling juice. The entire Council of Five had sent their blessings, and the Fowl and Robinson families had gone all out. The garden outside was blooming, a symbolic touch Artemis had insisted on—flowers for new life, growth, and everything ahead.Inside, Allie sat in the drawing room, glowing in a pale blue dress that hugged her baby bump just right. Her hair was
The Robinson mansion’s private study had always been a place of power and quiet conversations—decisions that shaped alliances, safeguarded legacies, and at times, determined fates. Today, that room held such weight once again. The polished surface of the table between them reflected the two small velvet boxes—one black, one dark crimson—placed with deliberate care.Alexander sat quietly beside Klarisse, their hands resting just slightly apart. Both of them had seen and endured more than most in their lifetime, but this—this moment was something else. This was about their son. Their future.Across from them, Bronson Robinson and Alan Fowl wore unreadable expressions. Behind their eyes, legacies stirred—ones they had fought to preserve, often at great cost.“We agreed to meet privately,” Bronson began, his voice level but low, “because this is more than tradition. More than ceremony. This is about foresight.”Alan gave a solemn nod. “It’s time we talk about Lucas.”Klarisse instinctivel