The De Rossi estate breathed a rare calm. For weeks the mansion had been guarded like a fortress, its halls hushed except for the soft footsteps of nurses and the distant laughter of children in the gardens. But today, something different was in the air—an anticipation that tugged at every heart inside.Emilia was seated in the sunlit parlor, the soft glow of morning streaming through the tall windows. She was stronger now—her cheeks no longer hollow, her color returning, though she still carried the delicate aura of someone recovering from a storm. Her hands rested over the swell of her stomach, the curve much more pronounced than when she had last seen her sister.She looked up when the doors opened, her breath catching.Isadora stood there.For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Emilia let out a shaky laugh and pushed herself up from the sofa. “Isa?”Isadora’s lips quirked into a grin—wry, familiar, the grin of a woman who had danced on the edge of fire and returned with ashe
The gunfire had quieted, though the hospital corridors still smelled of blood and smoke. Luca’s men had secured the perimeter, but his mind was elsewhere—behind those operating doors where Emilia’s fate hung by a thread.When the doctor finally emerged, Luca pushed forward, eyes wild. “Tell me.”The doctor looked worn, his scrubs splattered. “She lost a lot of blood. Her condition is still critical—but she’s stable for now. She’ll need time to recover, and…” Luca didn’t listen further, he called Nicolo, informing him that he wanted Emilia moved to a trusted hospital. While Nicolo arranged that he sat by Emilia’s side, his hands holding hers and tears came gushing down. She looked so helpless, so lifeless, she had gone through all of this because of him, because of his enemies. He remembered all the promises he gave her about keeping her safe. He didn’t want her involved in this life but it was too late now, he loved her, and he was not going to let her or the children go.The night wa
The hospital lights were too bright, too white. They buzzed faintly above Luca’s head as he paced the cold corridor, his shirt still stained with soot and blood. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Emilia falling—saw the way her body struck the marble, heard the sound of her broken cry.His men stood at a distance, silent, knowing better than to speak. Nicolo was there too, his face pale with fear, but Luca couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone. All he could do was stare at the closed doors of the operating room.It had been hours when they finally opened, a doctor stepped out, mask pulled down, his expression grim.“Mr. De Rossi,” the doctor said, his voice low but steady.Luca was on him in a heartbeat. “How is she? How’s Emilia? And the baby?” His words tumbled out, desperate, jagged.The doctor hesitated, glancing briefly at the blood on Luca’s shirt before meeting his eyes. “She was further along in her pregnancy than you thought. She wasn’t
Luca sat in the quiet of Cece’s room long after her words had settled into him. Kill him. For our father. The sentence gnawed at his chest, dragging him back through years he had tried to bury.And then the memory rose, unbidden—He was ten years old again, barefoot on the marble floors of their villa. His father sat at the long oak table, maps and ledgers spread before him, his sharp eyes softened only when they turned to his son.“Pay attention, Luca,” his father had said, voice steady, warm but commanding. “A man can build an empire with steel and blood, but he keeps it with loyalty. Without loyalty, everything rots.”Beside him, Zio leaned lazily against the table, a glass of wine in his hand. His dark eyes flickered with amusement as he ruffled young Luca’s hair.“And sentiment makes you weak,” Zio added smoothly. “Remember that, ragazzo. Trust too much, love too much, and you give your enemies the knife to cut you with.”His father had chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t fill his
the most intense 12 hours……..The heavy front doors creaked open, and Isadora rushed forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had been pacing the foyer for what felt like hours, praying to see her sisters’ faces again.But when Luca’s men stepped aside, it was only Cece standing there. Her hair was tangled, her eyes wide and searching, like a child lost in a world too loud, too cruel.Isadora froze. For a moment, her mind refused to understand what her eyes were seeing.“Where is she?” she whispered, voice breaking. Her gaze darted past Cece, searching desperately for Emilia’s familiar frame, her twin — her other half. But there was no one.Cece’s lip trembled, her body stiff as though she wanted to step forward but couldn’t. The silence stretched, cruel and unbearable.Isadora staggered back, clutching the edge of the table for balance. “No…” The word tore from her throat, raw and strangled. “No, no, no! Where is Emilia?”Luca stepped inside then, his expression carved in s
Snow fell in a muted hush over Moscow, coating the broken warehouses by the river in a pale shroud. The night smelled of gunpowder and oil, and somewhere in the dark, wolves howled. Luca adjusted the collar of his black coat, his gloved fingers tightening around the trigger of his rifle. His men spread out like shadows, silent killers against the endless white.The warehouse smelled of rust, salt, and stale air — the kind of place where things were hidden, not stored. Sunlight leaked through the broken slats above, casting narrow golden stripes across the dusty concrete floor. It was almost beautiful, in a cruel way.Dimitri stood still, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, eyes fixed on the entrance. He had arrived first, as promised. Five days since that last phone call with Luca — five days of silence, delay, and games. Now, it was time to end it.Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Then came the low creak of the warehouse door.Luca entered, flanked by two of his men. His wa