The sun had barely risen over the Robinson estate, yet the household was already stirring. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of what was about to happen pressing on everyone’s chest. Today, Artemis was leaving. He had made up his mind. Luca Marconi had escaped, and he couldn’t sit still knowing the man who had threatened their family was still out there, free. He needed to hunt him down himself. This wasn’t just business—it was personal. Artemis stood in his room, fastening the last button on his dark navy shirt. His suitcases were packed, his plane ticket ready, and his weapons secured in a private transport arranged through his European allies. He was leaving in less than two hours. A knock came at his door. “Come in.” Alexander stepped inside, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Alexander sighed and crossed his arms. “So, you’re really doing this.” Artemis nodded. “I have to.” “I know.” Alexander exhaled, running a hand throu
The Robinson estate felt different without Artemis. Though Alexander had always been the leader, his brother had been his shadow, his right hand—the one who understood him best. Now, Artemis was out there, hunting Luca Marconi, and Alexander had to take control without hesitation. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. With the fall of the Marconi empire, the other families had turned their eyes to him and the Fowls, expecting them to keep their word. Promises had been made—fair shares in business, balanced power, and no unnecessary bloodshed. Alexander sat at the head of a long, polished table in the Bronson Industries boardroom, flanked by Bronson and Alan. Several powerful family heads had gathered, some with lingering doubt, others waiting for direction. “The Marconis are no longer in control,” Alexander said, his voice steady. “But that doesn’t mean chaos should follow. Our families agreed to maintain order, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” One of the family heads, Gi
Alexander leaned against his car, arms crossed, as he waited outside the café for Klarisse. It was a quiet evening, the warm glow of the streetlights casting soft shadows on the pavement. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted from inside, mingling with the crisp night air. It had been weeks since Artemis left on his mission, and despite the occasional intel updates from their European allies, there had been no direct contact from him. The silence was both expected and frustrating. Alexander knew his brother had to move carefully, but still—he had hoped for at least some sin that Artemis was making progress. His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking him from his thoughts. When he pulled it out and saw the caller ID, his heart stopped for just a second. **Artemis.** Without hesitation, he answered. “Artemis?” “Yeah, it’s me.” The voice on the other end was sharp, clipped with frustration. Alexander immediately straightened, the tension in his body increasing. Klarisse, who w
Allie stared out the airplane window, watching as clouds blanketed the sky below her. The hum of the engines filled the silence around her, but inside her mind, a storm of thoughts raged. It was just a few hours before she would land in Colombia, where Artemis had last been seen. She could still hear Klarisse’s voice in her head from their heated conversation earlier that day. *"Are you insane, Allie? This isn’t some vacation. This is Artemis tracking down a fugitive Mafia boss who has tried to kill us all before. You don’t just walk into something like that!"* Allie had sighed, gripping her suitcase handle tightly. "Klarisse, I know you’re worried, but before I met you, before I started the café, I was street-smart. I know how to take care of myself." Klarisse had folded her arms, frustration clear on her face. "You think being street-smart is enough when dealing with men like Luca Marconi? Allie, this is a war. People die in wars." "But Artemis is in the middle of it," Allie ha
Allie had barely processed the new lead she had found when a **strong hand** gripped her arm, yanking her backward. Her instincts kicked in immediately, and she **twisted** against the force, preparing to fight. *"Not today,"* she thought, already calculating her best move. Before she could fully react, she was pushed against the cold, stone wall of an alley. Panic surged through her—until she saw his face. *"Artemis!"* His intense blue eyes locked onto hers, his grip still firm but not painful. His dark coat and suit blended into the shadows, making him look even more like a ghost from her past. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Artemis—what the hell?!" "Keep your voice down," he ordered in a low, urgent whisper, glancing past her toward the street. His expression was unreadable, but his body language told her everything. **They were in danger.** Still catching up with reality, Allie felt a surge of **relief, anger, and confusion** all at once. "I came looking for you!"
The tension that had been building for weeks finally **snapped**. Allie barely had time to react before **Artemis’s lips crashed onto hers**, stealing her breath, her thoughts—everything. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her impossibly close, as if he feared she would slip away. She didn't protest. Instead, she **answered every kiss**, matching his hunger, his desperation. Her hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him down, deepening the kiss, as if this were their last moment together. Because maybe it was. They had no guarantees—not in this world they were trapped in. Luca was still out there. Danger was always around the corner. The war between the families was far from over. But right now, none of that mattered. Allie moaned softly as Artemis's lips traveled to her jaw, then to the sensitive skin of her neck, **leaving a trail of fire in their wake**. "Allie," he murmured against her skin, his voice strained, as if he were **holding back**. She didn't want him to ho
The evening air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of city life as **Artemis and Allie stepped out of the safe house**. The weight of the past few days was heavy on their shoulders, but there was also a fleeting sense of relief—at least for now. Their update with **Alexander and Klarisse** had been reassuring. The Robinson and Fowl families were holding their ground, and things were surprisingly quiet back home. Too quiet. *"A calm before the storm,"* Artemis had muttered after ending the call, his instincts telling him that something was off. Still, they needed to **eat**, and Artemis wasn’t one to ignore Allie’s well-being, no matter how tense the situation was. So they found themselves in a **secluded pub**, tucked away in the darker alleys of the city, where they could blend into the shadows. It wasn’t fancy, but it was **safe**—or so they thought. They sat in a booth at the far end, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Artemis barely touched his food, his fingers drumm
The private jet cut through the sky, its engines humming steadily as it made its way back home. But inside, there was nothing steady about the atmosphere. **Artemis and Allie sat across from each other, locked in a heated argument.** *"We are not telling him, Allie. End of discussion,"* Artemis said, his voice **firm, unyielding**. Allie crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing. *"No, Artemis. We are telling him. This isn’t your call to make alone!"* Artemis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His frustration was obvious, his usual controlled demeanor beginning to crack under the weight of their disagreement. *"I’m not letting Alexander carry this on his shoulders,"* he snapped. *"He already has enough to deal with. Luca is my problem. I’ll handle it."* Allie leaned forward, **her voice dangerously low**. *"Luca made it Alexander’s problem the moment he brought Maxine into this."* Artemis gritted his teeth. He knew she was right, but that didn’t mean he w
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