Antonio Dante's pov,Lisa and I stood, hovering over the papers that lay before us. We didn't know what to say to each other.We were just silent. Deep in thoughts.There was a knock on the door. Lisa moved to answer it before I could. The maid came into the room. She bowed her head as a sign of greeting and respect.“There is a box delivered to you. It is downstairs sir,” she informed. I looked at Lisa. Lisa looked at me.“Okay,” Lisa acknowledged.“We are coming.”A further bow and the maid was gone. “I didn't order anything, “I stated.“You might as well go and check. It could be anything of help.”I obliged. I went downstairs and the package was already on the table in the dining area.“Grab a scissors Lisa.” Lisa exited and came out with scissors shortly. I took it and ripped the box open. I was not sure how to prepare for the sight that met me. Two pairs of eyes stared back at me in horror.“Help my ass!” I hissed angrily. Lisa peeped.“Fucking hell,” she muttered. She kept

Antonio Dante's pov,His hair was ragged and highly unkempt. He had slices through his skin and several cuts on his face.“Did my men treat you well?”No answer. I lifted my eyebrows at him. Lisa and I walked over to him. He tried to move back with his chair in fear and it almost toppled over but my foot landed on one of the legs and I pulled it back up. He was once a handsome man. With a bright face that spoke of the country he came from. But now, his eyes revealed nothing but fear. No guilt.Just fear.And even though he tried so hard to hide it, he couldn't. It was written all over his face.Like an ink on a paper.“Let me go,” he commanded. I heard Lisa audibly gasp and I threw my head back in laughter. “The guts you have there to command me. You haven't changed Rahul.”His blood ran cold when I mentioned his real name.“Rahul?”I heard Lisa say. His attention turned to her. His chest rose up and down. Lisa turned to me and immediately understood.“It's so nice to change your

Stella Romilly's pov,PastA story told once is a story of truth.I exited the dining hall and ran after Hannah.“Hannah,” I called as I searched through the walls. I needed to talk to her. I needed to understand what was happening. Cause I had no idea what was transpiring. I had no idea Hannah and I could be siblings.I had no idea my father had gone into the arms of another. I wanted answers. But Hannah was already upset. “Hannah,” my voice went up an octave. “Leave me alone!” I heard her distant voice from a far corner of the hall I was in. I wandered around to that place.“Hannah where are you?” I called. No answer.“Where are you?” I pleaded.“Leave me alone,” her voice was closer. I nagivated through the panes of wood and books arranged in shelves. I passed by the teacher's desk and a random room with only a table and a chair. Hannah was there. Curled up and crying. Her nose had turned all red.“What are you crying for?” I asked, genuinely confused. Her cries progressed

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,Antonio Dante's pov, It had been a week since I was told that my father was in the Mafia. I had remained in my room all week even after my mother convinced me to accept my life and my fate. I refused to accept it. But deep down I knew it wasn't a choice. It was an update to the pieces of information delivered to me all my life and all I had to do was to suck it up like I did with the others. I had acquired a better understanding on my own in my room. Why my father had insisted on training lessons. Why we had to exercise… Why there were guards everywhere? It finally made sense. Mafia people do stuff like that. I couldn't believe there were multiples of them. The world was a dangerous place to live. Lisa hadn't come to visit since and I was starting to worry about her. I had texted her and she had barely replied. There was a knock on my door and I opened it to a guard who bowed in front of me. “Your father wants to meet you,” he delivered. “Tell him I'm coming.”

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,Antonio Dante's pov,“Guards!”“Come and take him,” I heard. A uniform match of boots flashed before my eyes instantly. I was fading in and out of consciousness. “No honey, what are you doing?”“He wants me to act like one of the bad guys. Fine, I will be the bad guy.”“You can't possibly-”“He has to learn how to show some respect.”“I wasn't wrong,” I muttered, trying to focus on their faces. “My baby,” my mother whispered but making exactly no attempt to help me in my situation. I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Tears pierced my eyes. I was so betrayed. “None of you are good,” I whispered, smiling bitterly. “Not any one of you.”The thumping had stopped and now all I felt were hands on my upper arms. “Please Don, I beg of you.” Through my hazed vision, I could see the shape my mother had formed with her hands. She was begging. To my dad. For him to let me go.“How pathetic,” I commented. I didn't care if she was trying to do a favour for me. She was still one