Riccardo knew when Camilla was hiding something.She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stammer. Didn’t give herself away in any obvious way.But her silence stretched longer. Her gaze was too precise. And she held her wine glass like a weapon instead of a comfort.By morning, he’d already dispatched two of his men to scan every CCTV feed from Pier 41, every phone signal in the area, every dock worker who hadn’t clocked in.She hadn’t told him where she’d gone last night—but he knew.She’d gone to face something that wasn’t meant to be faced alone.And that? That infuriated him.Still, when she entered the dining hall, dressed in ivory silk like nothing had happened, he said nothing. Just watched.Camilla met his gaze calmly.“We need to talk,” she said.“I’m listening.”She sat across from him, every movement deliberate.“I need more control.”His brow lifted. “You already have more control than anyone has ever dared ask me for.”“I need access, Riccardo. Not just a seat at your table. I want ful
The moment Alessandro Morretti left the estate, Riccardo knew.Not because anyone told him. Not because Luca reported it. But because the atmosphere had shifted—thickened with a tension he could feel in his bones.He found Camilla standing alone in the east wing gallery, staring at the abstract portrait that had once belonged to his father. The wine in her hand was untouched.“You spoke to him,” Riccardo said quietly.Camilla didn’t turn around. “I had to.”He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “He’s not a guest. He’s a threat.”“I know what he is.”“Do you?” His voice was sharp now. “Because a woman playing queen doesn’t walk into a den of vipers without telling her king.”Camilla turned then, eyes steady. “You don’t own every move I make.”“You’re my wife.”“And I’m not your pawn.”They stared each other down—two firestorms contained in silk and steel.Camilla finally spoke, voice low. “He gave me a card. Said I’d need it when I realized the devil’s palace wasn’t what it seemed.”
The rain came in slow sheets, pattering against the tall glass windows of the estate like whispers of a warning. It was just past midnight when Camilla received the message.A burner number. One line.Meet me. Or the truth burns.She didn’t need to guess who sent it.Camilla stood at the edge of the conservatory, staring into the dark expanse of the estate’s gardens. Somewhere beyond the hedges, danger lurked. Not in the form of bullets or blades—but in the shape of a man who knew too much.Elias Black.He was back with leverage. And she knew exactly what secret he wanted to wield.Not hers.Riccardo’s.And that made everything more complicated.She left a message for Isadora to monitor the estate’s perimeter but not to interfere. Then she slipped out through the side entrance, dressed in black, her hair coiled into a bun, no heels this time—only soft soles and silence.The meeting place was a quiet chapel ruins on the outskirts of the Romano territory. The kind of place Elias would
The storm came not with thunder, but with a phone call.Camilla was in the west wing library, going over estate ledgers when Luca burst in—face pale, shirt blood-splattered.“It’s Elias,” he said. “He made his move.”Camilla stood instantly, the ledger forgotten. “What did he do?”Luca’s jaw flexed. “Carlo. One of our shipping lieutenants. Found dead in the docks. Shot twice. Execution style. And there was a message.”Her stomach twisted. “What message?”He handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it with trembling fingers.“For every door you close, I’ll burn down two.”The handwriting was unmistakable.Elias wasn’t bluffing anymore.He was declaring war.The war room was chaos. Phones buzzed, men shouted, and digital maps of the city lit up with pulsing alerts. Camilla entered with Luca, her calm demeanor belying the storm inside her.Riccardo was already there, standing like a general in the heart of a battlefield.“What’s the fallout?” she asked, bypassing the pleasantries.
Elias had made his move.Now it was time for Camilla to make hers.The morning after the estate breach, the Romano compound was under lockdown. Extra guards patrolled the grounds, surveillance drones hovered above, and the war room operated on a 24-hour cycle.But the real weapon wasn’t steel or bullets.It was information.Camilla stood before the estate’s digital command screen, the flickering lights of newsfeeds and social channels reflecting in her eyes.“We’ve compiled every traceable link to Elias,” Isadora said, handing her a dossier. “Old aliases. Known associates. Shell companies. He’s been careful—but not perfect.”Camilla flipped through the photos and documents. One picture stood out—a surveillance still of Elias exiting a black car in Venice three years ago. His face was mostly obscured, but the distinctive burn scar across his jaw gave him away.“Is this enough?” Camilla asked.Isadora’s smile was razor-sharp. “With the right spin? It’s more than enough.”Riccardo watche
The silence was worse than the storm.For forty-eight hours, Elias vanished.No sightings. No communications. No retaliations.The city’s criminal underbelly buzzed with paranoia. The sudden vacuum left by his absence felt unnatural—too quiet, too clean, like the pause before a predator pounced.Camilla didn’t trust it.From the second she opened her eyes that morning, something inside her coiled with unease. The day felt off. The air was too still. Even the guards at the Romano estate walked a little faster, checked corners more carefully.Riccardo noticed it too. He sat in the war room, flanked by Luca and Isadora, his posture rigid as intel streamed in from every contact.“Nothing,” Isadora muttered. “No chatter, no encrypted signals, no dead drops. It’s like he blinked out of existence.”“He didn’t,” Camilla said, pacing near the monitors. “He’s waiting. Watching. Planning something.”Riccardo’s gaze sharpened. “And we’re going to find out what.”By noon, the first sign arrived—wr
War had a rhythm.A pulse that beat beneath the city’s skin—throbbing louder each day as Riccardo and Camilla moved their pieces into place. Every phone call, every coded message, every silent nod across a room was another step toward a confrontation that couldn’t be avoided.But in war, it wasn’t just bullets that killed.It was trust.And trust, Camilla was learning, was far more dangerous.The Falcone estate turned into a hive of controlled chaos. Teams of mercenaries were rotated in every six hours, supplies stocked in hidden compartments, escape routes secured. Luca worked double shifts, barking orders as if preparing for a siege.In the war room, Camilla stood before a wall of digital projections—Elias’s known associates, money trails, warehouses, shipping containers flagged for inspection. A red string web of everything he touched.Riccardo entered quietly and moved beside her. “You’ve built a map of his empire.”“I’ve built a noose,” she corrected, her eyes never leaving the b
The cracked chess piece sat on Camilla’s desk like a taunt.She hadn’t moved it since last night. Every time she glanced at it, her stomach coiled. Not out of fear—but fury. Elias had found her weakness, or at least what he thought was weakness.Emotion.Memory.The past.She swept the queen into a drawer and locked it. The past would have to wait—because the present was on fire.Camilla descended into the security wing just as Luca stormed down the hallway, a file clenched in one hand.He spotted her and shook his head. “You’re not going to like this.”“That’s becoming a pattern,” Camilla muttered.He handed her the file. “We found something in Marcus’s personal effects. A burner phone. Wiped mostly clean—except for one outgoing number.”“Let me guess. Elias.”Luca’s jaw tightened. “No. Worse. It’s a number linked to the courthouse district. And we traced the name on the contact to someone unexpected.”He opened a photo.Camilla’s heart stuttered.“No…” she whispered.The picture sho
The tension in the air was palpable, a suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. Camilla could feel it in her bones, a quiet hum of unease that reverberated through the estate. Despite the movement and action surrounding her, it felt like everything was on the verge of exploding. Marco was still out there, pulling the strings in the shadows, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he made his next move.Riccardo had made it clear that he would stand by her through this. He had rallied their forces, solidified their alliances, and ensured that no stone was left unturned. But Camilla could feel her own resolve hardening as the days passed. This wasn’t just about reclaiming her position; it was about proving that she wouldn’t be a victim, that she could control her own fate.The large windows of her office overlooked the estate’s gardens, their stillness mocking the turmoil inside her. Outside, the wind whipped through the trees, bending them in its wake. The sky above wa
The storm outside continued to rage, a mirror of the chaos brewing inside Camilla. Every muscle in her body screamed for action, for revenge, for justice. Marco had crossed the line, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. She would expose him, destroy his plans, and claim back what was rightfully hers.The estate felt emptier than it ever had before. The vast, luxurious hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, and Camilla couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Even though she knew Marco was gone, she felt his presence in the shadows, lingering like a specter.Her hand tightened around the phone in her pocket. She hadn’t contacted Riccardo yet—she couldn’t. Not now. Marco was too dangerous, too unpredictable. She needed to be smart about this, make sure she had all the information before bringing in anyone else.As she paced through the hall, her mind was in overdrive. She had a plan. She always did. The first step was to solidify her power and make sure that ev
Camilla’s mind was set. Marco had betrayed her in the most brutal way possible, and she wouldn’t let it slide. She had built this empire from nothing, fought tooth and nail to gain a seat at the table, and now Marco wanted to tear it all down. Not on her watch.The night was her ally as she moved through the estate, her footsteps silent, a sharp contrast to the roaring storm inside her. The estate, once her sanctuary, felt like a cage now—its lavish halls and gilded corners were a reminder of everything that had been built on lies. Marco’s lies.She didn’t know where Riccardo had gone, but right now, she didn’t care. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. She had always been able to rely on herself, and she would do so again.Her steps carried her to the library, where she’d spent countless hours in the past, pouring over documents, making plans, learning how to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld. The scent of aged paper and leather filled the air as she
Camilla’s mind raced as she stared at Riccardo, the weight of his words sinking in. She had trusted him, believed in him, and now he was telling her she had no idea who the real enemy was. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension as she searched his face for any hint of deception. But his expression was unreadable—cold, almost distant.“What are you talking about?” Camilla asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Who’s been pulling the strings? Cane’s been our enemy from the start, Riccardo. Who else could there be?”Riccardo took a slow step toward her, his gaze unwavering. “You still don’t see it, do you?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “The person you’ve been fighting against all this time wasn’t just Cane. It was someone closer to you—someone you thought was on your side.”Camilla’s heart skipped a beat, the blood draining from her face. A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind, but one name stood out. She tried to shake the thought away, bu
Camilla’s pulse pounded in her ears as she made her way down the corridor, the weight of betrayal heavy in her chest. She could feel the walls closing in on her, the estate that she had once ruled now feeling like a prison. Her empire—her hard-won kingdom—was under siege, and the very people she had entrusted with its protection were the ones who had turned against her.The thought churned in her stomach, twisting in knots of rage and disbelief. How long had they been working with Cane? How many times had they smiled in her face, whispered loyalty in her ear, all the while plotting her downfall? The question burned in her mind, but it was a luxury she couldn’t afford to dwell on.She reached the estate’s grand hall, where she knew the remaining loyal men were holding the line. She had to act fast—there was no room for hesitation now. With Cane’s forces infiltrating the compound, every second counted. But the betrayal that lurked within her own ranks threatened to unravel everything.L
The battle for the estate had turned into a brutal, bloody warzone. The sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the air, echoing throughout the sprawling grounds. Camilla stood at the heart of it all, moving with precision, her mind calculating every step as though she were playing a high-stakes game of chess.Her team was well-prepared—trained to respond to any threat—but this was different. Cane’s forces were relentless, and his men had infiltrated more than one layer of security. It wasn’t just an attack—it was a full-scale assault, one meant to crush her and her empire.As the fight raged on, Camilla’s thoughts remained sharp. She wasn’t just defending the estate; she was fighting for her life, for everything she had worked for, for the future she’d been building. She couldn’t afford to lose—not when everything was on the line.Riccardo had been eerily silent throughout the chaos. She hadn’t seen him since the initial attack had started. Camilla’s gut twisted in anticipation as th
The battle at the warehouse had been won, but Camilla knew that it wasn’t a victory. It was merely the opening salvo in a war that was only just beginning. Cane wouldn’t take this defeat lightly—she knew him well enough by now. He was ruthless, strategic, and calculating, and he would retaliate in ways she couldn’t yet predict.The tension in the air around the estate was palpable. Every person working under her had seen the stakes increase, and Camilla could feel the weight of their expectations. She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore—she was fighting for everyone who had put their faith in her. And the consequences of losing were too great to fathom.Riccardo had been strangely quiet since the warehouse attack. Camilla had noticed it, though she didn’t comment on it. He had become more withdrawn, even as he continued his regular business dealings. She wondered if it was his own way of dealing with the escalating conflict, or if there was something more—something she hadn’t yet
The weeks that followed were filled with tension. Camilla could feel the undercurrent of change rippling through the empire, as if every decision she made was building toward a storm. The whispers of Darius Cane’s involvement were growing louder, and every night she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what his next move would be. It wasn’t just about power anymore—it was about survival.Riccardo had kept his distance at times, his instincts telling him to give Camilla space to learn the ropes of her new role. He could see her growing stronger with every passing day. She no longer hesitated, no longer second-guessed herself. She was becoming the leader he knew she could be, but it also made him nervous. The more confident she became, the more dangerous she was to the world around her.But Riccardo wasn’t the only one watching. Darius Cane was out there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike.Camilla was seated in her private office, a glass of red wine resting on the
The morning after Bellamy’s death, the world still turned as if nothing had changed.But Camilla knew better. The game had shifted. The board had been rearranged. And now, the question wasn’t whether she would survive—but what she would become.The vineyard, once a symbol of secrecy and shadows, now stood at the heart of an empire reborn. Its rolling hills, rich with life, reflected the promise of a future yet to be written.Camilla stood at the window of her office, looking out over the land she had inherited. Riccardo had given her the space to grow, to build something lasting. The air smelled of grapes, of wealth, of power.But it also smelled of potential.Riccardo entered the room behind her, his presence as commanding as ever, though his gaze softened when it landed on her.“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice low, as if daring the question to be answered.“Different,” Camilla replied. She didn’t turn to face him, still lost in the view. “I thought I’d feel lighter, but there