All Chapters of Blood and Loyalty: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Bianca's POV "Let's fight." I said. "What?" He asked raising his eyebrow."You're already training." I shrugged. Alessandro studied me for a beat, then he nodded. "Alright. SShoes off, and no flinching." He said coldly.I kicked off my shoes without hesitation and stepped onto the mat barefoot. He studied me for a while. "You are serious." He deadpanned. "You said no flinching." I replied coolly, tying my hair back. "I don't flinch."I meant it.I had trained since I was fifteen. My father insisted on it, he said that a Romano woman should know how to break a man's arm before she is old enough to wear diamonds. Over the years, I had taken down five grown men in the sparring ring. I wasn't afraid of strength. I was afraid of weakness pretending to be love. Alessandro stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Alright, let's see what you've got." We circled each other. No small talk, and no fake smiles. Just the quiet pull of tension between two people who knew to hide every

Bianca's POV My jaw clenched at the mention of my mother, but I said nothing. Because my father didn't know what this really was for me. He didn't know hom many nights I spent watching the explosion footage. How certain I was that the Russian pipeline tied yo Vincenzo had turned into the blade that killed my mother. And now? Now I would bury that empire. One lie at a time. I left the cellar not long after, my mind sharpening like a blade. The scent of aged oak and red wine still clung to my skin when I slipped silently out if the cellar passage and into the hall. My father’s words echoes in my mind, sharp and final. Vincenzo will fall. And when he does, his queen goes down first. I paused near the stone archway if the corridor, letting the shadows wrap around me. The estate was quiet, the kind that hummed with secrets. I didn’t trust the walls here. Someone was always watching. Especially Alessandro. He has a way of being everywhere, silent, controlled

Bianca's POVThere are doors in this house that were never meant to be opened.The east wing was one of them.It didn't matter that I was the daughter of the man who ruled it. That every brick of this estate knew my footsteps. Some parts remained forbidden, as though they had been cut off from time itself. Preserved. Guarded. Feared.But the east wing hadn't always been that way. I remembered running through those halls as a child, chasing my mother's perfume, hiding behind velvet curtains to avoid her scolding. It was only after her death that my father locked that part of the house. As though it carried a ghost he couldn't bear to face.Now, I wasn't sure if it was her ghost—or something much darker.The guards never said it, but their eyes did. The way they averted their gaze, the way they lingered near the arch but never stepped through. Secrets lingered there. Heavy ones.And I was done waiting to be told the truth.Tonight, I moved through the halls like smoke. Silent, fluid, un

*Bianca's POV*There comes a moment when silence feels like it could split the walls.That was this morning.The air in the dining hall felt heavy. My father sat at the head of the table, not touching his food, phone in one hand, brow furrowed. He was muttering about shipments and delays—his voice low and sharp, like the words themselves were weapons. His men surrounded us, but none dared speak unless spoken to.I barely touched my coffee. My mind was still tangled in the memory of the east wing.That photo. My mother's smile caught in a red circle, like a target.But I couldn't shake the narrative that had been drilled into my bones for years: that the Russians killed her. That Konstantin Siankovski ordered the hit. That Violet—the perfect wife of Vincenzo, the untouchable Mafia King—is the daughter of a butcher.And now, Violet lived in a palace. Had a family. Had peace.While my mother rotted in a grave.No. There was no alternative explanation. The Russians killed her. And I would

*Bianca's POV* The silence in the estate had changed. It wasn't peace. It was waiting. Clara wouldn't look me in the eyes. The guards stood a little straighter when I passed. My father hadn't spoken to me since the night of the gathering. Even Matteo was unusually quiet-his gaze lingering too long, like he was sizing me up. And Alessandro.... He was everywhere and nowhere. He didn't speak to me. Didn't walk behind me like usual. But I felt him. I always did. Like a storm humming beneath stone. It had been two days since I slipped out. Two days since I returned with answers that tasted like gasoline on my tongue. My mother wanted to run. The Russians were involved. And someone inside my father's circle was a threat. But I needed more. I needed proof. So I set my trap. ----------------------------------------------------- The café in downtown Palermo was small, tucked between a bookstore and a jeweler, both run by old allies of the Romano family. Safe enough to attr