Semua Bab Bound by Vows and Vendetta: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Chapter 30 — InfernoBlood. Smoke. Silence.The aftermath of Giovanni's death wasn’t peace, it was a storm.In the heart of Milan, at the entrance of what used to be Giovanni's last stronghold—reduced now to rubble, smoldering in ash and echoes. His death might have ended one chapter, but it cracked open another far more dangerous one. The families once loyal to Giovanni didn’t scatter like dust in the wind. No. They watched. Waited. And now—they retaliated.It was never just about him. It was about what he represented.Giovanni had become a symbol of resistance. A corrupted, blood-drenched symbol, yes, but a symbol nonetheless. Killing him made me king. But it also made me a target with a crown made of bone.The air reeked of burnt flesh and betrayal. My boots crushed glass as I moved through the ruins. Sirens cried faintly in the distance, but no one would come. Not here. Not for us."De Rossi!" Matteo's voice cut through the smoke, dragging me back to the moment. "It's done. The pe

Chapter 32 — Ashes and Oaths~LORENZO~War doesn’t start with bullets.It starts with silence—the kind that coils around your spine and tells you something is coming. Something wrong. Something that will rewrite everything.That silence had settled over the De Rossi estate like a curse.Five days. That was the plan. Five days until we struck Cosenza with full force. Five days to tighten the grip, prepare the men, and starve the Orelli alliance from every financial artery they thought they could hide behind.But the Moretti retaliation came on day three.It wasn’t subtle.At 2:14 AM, I was pulled from a war council meeting by the sound of an explosion that rattled the walls like thunder from hell.“South sector!” Matteo yelled, bursting in with Riccardo behind him. “They hit the Palermo compound. Fire crews can’t even get close. It's gone.”“Any survivors?” I asked, already grabbing the bulletproof vest from the chair behind me.“Three. They’re critical. The rest... ashes.”I didn’t fl

Chapter 34 — Be My Guest~ARIA~I didn’t sleep.Not even after Lorenzo left, not even after I locked myself inside the solarium for hours, replaying the truth over and over in my head.I am a Moretti.A daughter of three empires—one that raised me in shadows, two buried beneath betrayal. My blood was currency. My name was ammunition. And someone had decided it was time to collect.At dawn, I went to the garden, the only place that still felt like mine.The sky was gray, muted. A storm was coming.That’s when Luca approached, his face tight with something I didn’t recognize—disbelief. Urgency. Respect?“There’s someone you need to meet,” he said quietly.I turned. “Another De Rossi soldier with bad news?”“No,” he said. “She’s not one of ours.”I narrowed my eyes. “Then how did she get here?”“She didn’t.” He paused. “She commanded to be brought here. And… Lorenzo allowed it.”My pulse jumped. “Who is she?”Luca hesitated. “She says… she’s your aunt. Maria Dolores Moretti.”My stomach

Chapter 36 — The Things They Buried~ARIA~They say truth always finds a way to the surface—no matter how deeply it’s buried beneath blood, silence, and years of denial.I used to think that was poetic nonsense.Until today.The letter came sealed with crimson wax and no return address. Matteo had slipped it beneath my door without a word, his eyes unusually grim. At first, I hesitated to open it. Everything inside me screamed that this letter would change something. That once I read it, I would never be the same.And I was right.The handwriting was elegant. Feminine. And the words inside weren’t just ink on paper—they were a map to a past no one ever dared to speak about.A past that began with a name I barely understood.Maria Dolores.My father’s half-sister.My blood.And a woman whose silence had cost us everything.~~~~~~~~~~Maria was born on a stormy October night in Naples, not long after Giancarlo's mother—the woman he adored—had passed away. Their father, Adriano Moretti,

Chapter 38 — Alliances of Change~ARIA~The car ride was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the distant crashing of waves against the cliffs. Maria Dolores sat beside me in the back seat, legs crossed, sunglasses still on even though the sun had long disappeared. Her presence was an enigma—calm, yet sharp, like velvet hiding a blade.I stole a glance at her, trying to read the lines on her face, but she gave nothing away. Not emotion. Not thought. Only the faintest curl of a knowing smile played on her lips.“I’m guessing you don’t rescue people with headshots for just anyone,” I said finally, breaking the silence.Her lips parted in a dry laugh. “Not unless they’re special.”I raised a brow. “Special as in important to the cause? Or special as in... blood?”She turned to face me, pulling off her sunglasses and folding them with a click. “Both.”That one word—both—was the matchstick.“Giancarlo was my brother,” she said evenly. “Your birth father. My half-brother. We shar