LOGINI took a bullet for Vittorio, and it left my right hand permanently damaged. After that, I stepped back and supported him from behind the scenes. For eight years, I stood beside him as he rose from a low-level underling to Don. On his first day as Don, he had my portrait hung in every church he owned, to show the world who I was and how much I mattered. When I told him we had too much blood on our hands, he began going to church every day to confess and pray for us both. Once, I offered to go with him. He only shook his head, his expression solemn. "You got blood on your hands because of me. None of it is your fault. Let me carry all the sins alone." I was so moved that I believed him for three whole years. Then, yesterday, a security-system reset accidentally connected me to an abandoned camera in the church. Against the church's stone wall, he was kissing a young woman. Silver chalices lay scattered across the floor. "Don..." Her voice was tearful. "This is a church. The Donna's portrait is still out there, watching..." Vittorio frowned. He yanked off his tie and bound the hands she was using to hold him back. His voice came out ragged. "Forget her. Focus." I sat in front of the monitor, listening to the obscene sounds they made, and didn't move until dawn. When the first light of morning came in, I called a contact on the dark web. I'd made up my mind to leave. The family's master ledgers lay open on my desk. Without a moment's hesitation, I tossed them into the shredder beside me. The grinding of the machine echoed through the room. This time, I was done being his right hand. And I didn't want to be his Donna anymore.
View MoreNew York never slept.
Not really.
At two in the morning, the streets still pulsed with yellow taxis, flashing billboards, and strangers chasing things they couldn’t name. Dreams. Money. Love. Revenge.
Sometimes all four.
Ava Sinclair stood outside Club Rouge with her arms folded tightly across her chest, trying not to freeze in the brutal December wind. Her best friend, Talia, was still inside dancing with some finance guy who wore too much cologne and talked like he owned Manhattan.
Ava checked her phone.
2:07 AM.
Three missed calls from her mother.
Ignored.
She slipped the phone back into her purse and sighed. New York had a way of making you feel lonely even when millions of people surrounded you.
“You look like you’re about to either cry or kill someone.”
The voice startled her.
Deep. Calm. Dangerous.
Ava turned.
The man standing beside her looked like trouble wrapped in expensive fabric.
Black wool coat. Dark hair slightly messy from the wind. Sharp jawline. Tattoos peeking from beneath his collar. His eyes were the worst part—cold gray, unreadable, the kind that made you feel exposed in seconds.
He held a cigarette between his fingers but hadn’t lit it.
A gentleman with demons.
“Maybe both,” Ava answered.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Not quite a smile.
“You waiting for someone?”
“My friend.”
“She abandoned you.”
“She’s busy making bad decisions.”
“Yet here you are talking to a stranger outside a nightclub at two in the morning.”
Ava hated that he had a point.
“You always this arrogant?” she asked.
“Only when I’m right.”
She should’ve walked away.
Every instinct told her to.
Men like him came with warning labels. The kind women ignored before ruining their lives willingly.
But something about him felt magnetic. Like standing too close to the edge of a rooftop just to feel the thrill.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ava.”
His eyes lingered on her lips for half a second too long.
“Ava,” he repeated softly, like testing how it sounded.
“And you?”
He hesitated.
“Luca.”
Of course it was Luca.
Not Josh. Not Ben. Something dramatic and sinful.
Before she could answer, shouting erupted across the street.
Three men in dark hoodies sprinted out of an alley.
One of them was bleeding.
Another held a gun.
Ava froze.
Everything happened too fast after that.
The armed man slammed into Luca’s shoulder accidentally.
And Luca moved.
Smooth. Violent. Efficient.
One second the stranger was standing.
The next he was on the ground screaming while the gun skidded across the pavement.
Ava gasped.
Luca grabbed the man by the throat with terrifying calm.
“Who sent you?” he asked quietly.
The bleeding man cursed at him.
Wrong answer.
Luca punched him once.
Hard enough to silence him instantly.
Ava stumbled backward in shock.
This wasn’t normal.
This wasn’t some rich Manhattan flirtation anymore.
This man was dangerous.
Luca looked up at her.
And for the first time, emotion cracked through his cold expression.
Regret.
“You should leave,” he said.
But black SUVs suddenly turned the corner.
Fast.
Too fast.
Luca swore under his breath.
The men inside the vehicles were armed.
Ava’s heart nearly stopped.
“What is happening?” she whispered.
Luca grabbed her wrist.
“Run.”
She didn’t even think.
They sprinted through the freezing New York streets while gunshots exploded behind them.
People screamed.
Cars crashed.
Ava’s lungs burned as Luca dragged her through crowded sidewalks and narrow alleys. Rain began pouring from the sky, soaking her dress and heels within seconds.
“Who are you?” she shouted breathlessly.
Luca looked back once.
His expression turned dark.
“The wrong man for you.”
Then a bullet shattered the window beside her head.
Ava screamed.
Luca pulled her into a hidden doorway, pressing her tightly against his chest as footsteps thundered past outside.
For one dangerous second, everything became still.
Rain.
Breathing.
His hand gripping her waist.
Their faces inches apart.
Ava looked up at him, terrified and confused.
Luca touched her cheek gently.
A softness completely opposite from the violence she had just witnessed.
“If you stay near me,” he said quietly, “your life is going to change forever.”
Then someone outside yelled—
“There! They’re inside!”
Luca’s eyes snapped toward the entrance.
And Ava realized the nightmare was only beginning.
Vittorio didn't die in the blizzard.A shelter van found him late that night, barely conscious, and brought him inside. The frostbite was so severe that the toes on both feet had to be amputated.For the next three months, the kill order his former men on the Meridian Coast had put out on him still stood. And no shelter in Nordvaal would keep a crippled man with blood on his hands.He drifted between the streets and temporary accommodation, beaten down each time he tried to start again.Eventually, he stopped trying.His mind had deteriorated, too.The once-feared Don became a confused beggar near the harbor, propping himself up on two broken walking sticks and wearing a foul-smelling coat he'd found somewhere.Most days he huddled beside the garbage bins at the docks.Yet even when he could barely remember where he was, one thing remained sewn to his chest: the silver pin with my name.His clothes were in tatters, but he polished that little piece of silver until it shone.O
I looked down at the scorched dagger by my feet.Then, to my own surprise, I laughed."Vittorio. Do you really still believe I'm going to forgive you?"He stared at me, tears freezing on his cheeks.I crouched and reached out with my right hand.The hand that once couldn't hold a spoon now gripped his chin with steady fingers. I tilted his face toward mine.His eyes widened when he noticed how firm my hand was."Your hand... Freya, it's better? The injury's really healing?""It is. Strange how much better I got once I left you and stopped cleaning up your filthy accounts."I tightened my grip just enough to hold his gaze.The sudden hope in his eyes faded."Did you think kneeling in the snow for a few hours and waving around a burned piece of metal would be enough? That you could stage one grand sacrifice and call yourself redeemed?""I'm not pretending," he whispered. "I swear I'm not."Tears started spilling down his cheeks again."Six months ago, when you were cheating
Six months later, Nordvaal was hit by one of the worst blizzards in memory.I was in my second-floor study reviewing the quarterly statements for my new shipping company when one of my guards called up from downstairs."Ma'am, there's a man kneeling outside the gate. He's been there nearly four hours."The guard hesitated."He's covered in injuries, and his left hand looks broken. We've told him to leave several times. He just stays there on his knees, begging to see you."I turned a page."Who is he?""He's wearing a silver pin. Your name is engraved on it."I stood and walked to the window.The snow was blowing almost sideways. Beyond the black iron gates, a dark shape knelt in the white wasteland.He was wearing a thin, torn suit, with snow piled across his shoulders.Once, Vittorio Cattaneo had traveled behind an escort of armored cars. Now he looked like a man who had nowhere left to sleep.I put on a cashmere coat, took a black umbrella, and went downstairs.The iron
Winter came to Nordvaal earlier than I'd expected.A fire blazed in the manor hearth. Pine logs snapped and settled, filling the air with a clean, resinous scent.My private doctor removed the bandage from my right hand and gently examined the damaged nerves."You're recovering better than expected," she said. "Without the constant stress, the spasms are becoming less frequent."I picked up a delicate porcelain teacup with my right hand.My wrist ached faintly, but not a drop of tea spilled."See?" I said. "Get away from the garbage, and even my hand heals faster."The doctor smiled, packed her instruments, and left me alone.Reports from my old intelligence network arrived every day.Without me managing the finances and coordinating the family's contacts, Vittorio's supposedly unstoppable empire was collapsing like a row of dominoes.The old-guard capos had turned on him as soon as they learned the master ledgers were gone.By the third day, rival families were tearing hole












Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.