Blood and Revenge: The Heir Who Left Her Family Becomes a Rising Star

Lucia's POV

I'll take Adriana's place. I'll go through with the blood-bound union to the man you promised her to, I said, my voice flat as stone. But I want two things in return. One billion, moved clean through the Family vault. And a full renunciation, signed by the Don and the Signora, witnessed by the Commission, declaring that I am no longer a Barsanti.

The old Barsanti study smelled of cigar smoke, aged paper, and the linseed oil they rubbed into the sacred ledgers to keep them from rotting. Above the hearth hung the first Barsanti Don's portrait, the varnish yellowed with age, the painted eyes so dark they always seemed to be watching. Beneath it sat the black table carved along its edge with the old family crest that every Barsanti child was made to trace before they could read.

I tossed the agreement onto that table.

The paper slid across the carved crest and stopped dead at the center, as if the Family itself had reached out and caught it.

My father's presence pushed outward, that cold weight a Don carries into a room, and it pressed against my lungs. He didn't even bother to hide his anger. He lifted his glass and slammed it against the stone floor hard enough to split the base.

"One billion?" he thundered. "You want to bleed the Barsanti Family dry?"

The glass shattered. A shard bit into my ankle. Blood seeped warm between my toes, staining the pale stone.

I didn't flinch. In this life you learn early that pain is information, not permission to fall apart.

I lifted my head, met the eyes of the man who had fathered me, and smiled.

"What?" I asked softly. "Is Adriana's life not worth that much?"

For a moment the fire popped. The painted eyes above us caught the light. My mother's hands tightened in her lap, but she said nothing.

My father stared at me as if a stranger were wearing my face. "Why are you suddenly agreeing to this?" His voice dropped into suspicion. "Don't you love Bruno Ferraro most of all?"

A laugh tore out of me, sharp and bitter. It pulled at my ribs, and pain flashed white behind my eyes. I'd learned to breathe around broken bones, to speak around the ache, to hold my voice steady even when my body begged me to curl up and disappear.

Two weeks ago it had been my twenty-fifth birthday.

In our world twenty-five wasn't just a number. It was the age the old men considered you fully made, old enough to sit at a table, old enough to stand before the Commission without being waved off like a child.

That night I was taken.

Not by soldiers from an enemy Family. Not by anyone bound to a name. By freelancers. Enforcers-for-hire who lived outside every territory line and sold their hands to whoever paid the most.

Adriana Barsanti arranged it.

They broke three of my ribs with the lazy cruelty of men who liked the sound bone made when it gave. They opened my back with a belt until the skin split, until the sting became heat, until the heat became numbness. When I fought them, they laughed and shoved a rag soaked in something chemical against my face until I stopped.

I've always had claustrophobia. A real weakness, the kind my mother used to call a sickness of the mind. They knew that too.

So they locked me in a space barely wider than my shoulders. No window. No light. Just a dark thick enough to press against my eyes. For twenty-four hours I listened to my own breathing, to the blood beating in my ears, to the far-off drip of water counting time like a curse.

When I started losing hope, the door exploded inward.

Bruno Ferraro came in with his men, and the air changed the way it does when a man used to giving orders walks into a room. The freelancers went still. He crossed straight to me, and when his eyes landed on my blood and bruises, they filled with tears.

"Lucia," he said, his voice breaking. "Don't close your eyes. The doctor's close. Hold on a little longer."

I clung to the smell of him, anchoring myself in it. Cedar, smoke, and something underneath it that had once made me feel safe. He carried me out like I mattered.

Like I belonged.

At the safe house the Family physician pressed clean bandages to my wounds and worked in silence. The moment I hit the bed, exhaustion dragged me under.

When I woke, pain slammed through my whole body like a second beating. My ribs screamed. My back burned. Something inside me lay curled tight, still shaking, as if it didn't trust the air yet.

I reached for the bell to call someone.

And then I heard voices outside my door.

"The men who took Miss Barsanti have been picked up," an aide reported.

"They talked. It really was Miss Barsanti who hired them to stage the whole thing."

My breath caught so hard I tasted blood.

Bruno went quiet for a beat. Then his voice came, low and mocking.

"So Adriana was right, then."

His man hesitated. "But why did you have Lucia kept locked up another twenty-four hours? She was in bad shape when we found her."

Bruno's answer didn't hesitate at all.

"She loves playing the victim," he said, cold as ice. "So I gave her a real lesson."

"The men came at Adriana for ransom. She panicked. She got sick with fever. She suffered. Good."

He exhaled like he was bored. "I told them to rough Lucia up a little. Nothing fatal. She's just too fragile."

In my bed, my scalp prickled. A chill swept through me so completely it felt like my blood had been swapped out for winter.

So this was the truth.

Adriana had already pinned it on me, called it my scheme, and Bruno believed her so completely that he decided I deserved punishment. He hadn't come for me because he loved me. He'd come because the story needed a hero, and he wanted to be the one who chose which wounds I was allowed to keep.

When I was eighteen, the Barsanti Family brought me back from the edge of nowhere the way you retrieve misplaced property. That was when I learned the truth about the "marriage" everyone whispered about.

It wasn't romance. It was business.

A Ferraro-Barsanti alliance, drawn up in a lawyer's office, sealed before the Commission. Everyone in the Edinburgh circles said Bruno and Adriana were childhood sweethearts, raised in the same rooms under the same men. They said he'd choose her, because that was how these things were meant to go.

And then Bruno chose me instead.

He came after me without letting up. He marked me with his attention, with his protection, with words that sounded like vows long before anyone signed anything. Adriana accused me of stealing everything meant for her, and Bruno turned on her with a hard face.

"I only care about your sister," he'd said. "You've had the Family's warmth your whole life. Lucia survived outside without asking anyone for a thing. Why are you making such a fuss?"

Back then it had felt like safety. Like love.

Now I understood it had been temporary. A phase. A convenient way to rebel.

Love that can expire was never love at all.

I drew a slow breath and pushed the memory down like a blade sliding into its sheath. Then I looked back at my parents, still seated beneath the watch of that dark portrait and its patient eyes.

"Have you decided?" I asked calmly.

Don and Serafina Barsanti exchanged a look. I saw it plainly in their faces: not grief, not guilt, but calculation. They were weighing the rumors about the Lombardi Family, the men who didn't forgive an insult or a weakness, the bloodline said to run back to the founders of the whole thing. A Family whose codes were older than our own.

After a long pause, my father reached for the pen. My mother finally spoke, her voice thin.

"Fine," she said. "In seven days the money moves. The union goes ahead."

My father's gaze sharpened. "But you say nothing of the exchange. Not to the Commission. Not to outsiders. Not to anyone." He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, one at a time, the way he always did before he asked for something he had no right to. "This stays blood and Family."

As if silence could keep the Barsanti name clean.

They signed. Then they set their thumbs to the ink and pressed their prints beside the crest. The agreement accepted. The transaction complete.

I took the paper and turned to leave.

Only then did my chest ache, deep and tearing, as if something inside me finally snapped loose from its last thread of hope.

They had never loved me.

The only child they protected was Adriana, the adopted daughter who didn't even carry our blood, yet wore our name like a crown.

Since that was the truth, I no longer wanted a Family. Or a mother and father. Or a man to belong to.

I would give them exactly what they wanted.

Outside the study, I took out my phone and called a friend with eyes in the places the Commission pretended didn't exist.

"Find me every piece of footage that ties Adriana to my kidnapping," I said.

Then, after a brief pause, I added, "And put the word out about the new cross-territory council. Get Bruno to buy in. Then close off the core pipelines and the supply lines for both the Ferraro and Barsanti operations."

In seven days I would give them a gift they'd never forget.

Back in my room, I gathered every photograph of me and Bruno. Every smile I'd trusted. Every moment that had once made something in me go quiet.

One by one, I dropped them to the floor and set them on fire.

The flames climbed fast, eating paper, devouring faces, turning my past to ash.

Watching the fire rise, I whispered, cold and steady, like a vow spoken to a Family that no longer owned me.

"This time we'll never meet again."

Lucia's POV

I packed in silence.

Not the kind of silence that comes from peace, but the kind you learn in a family bound by omert, when you finally understand no one under that roof was ever going to listen anyway. I folded clothes into my travel bag, tucked my documents into the inner lining, and slid last night's contract between two sheets of stiff leather so the pages wouldn't crease. Even the part of me that wanted to scream stayed quiet, pressed low behind my ribs as if conserving strength for later.

When I stepped out of my room, the corridor smelled faintly of altar wax and old cedar. The Barsanti estate was awake, but it pretended it wasn't. Doors stayed shut. Servants kept their eyes on the floor. In this Family, your worth decided whether anyone was allowed to see you.

Then I spotted her.

Adriana leaned against the second-floor railing, easy and unhurried, as if she'd been waiting for me the way patient men wait outside a rival's door. Her hair fell in soft waves. Her robe was pale, delicate, the picture of innocence. Her perfume was sweetened with jasmine to cover the sharper thing underneath, the note that always made my skin prickle.

In her palm, she held my engagement ring.

Bruno's ring.

The band caught the light with a cold gleam as she rolled it over her fingers, her smile smug and slow.

"Lucia," she drawled, her voice bright as honey, "was that little kidnapping game fun last time?"

My grip tightened on the bag strap. I could still feel the dark of that room. The walls too close. The air too thin. My ribs ached as if the bones remembered being broken.

Adriana tilted her head, her eyes glittering. "You still haven't learned your lesson, have you? No one will believe you. They'll only believe me." Her smile widened. "You're nothing but a liar."

I forced my voice into something even. "Give it back."

"Oh, right." She laughed softly, as if I'd said something amusing. "I forgot to tell you." She lifted the ring higher, letting it swing between her fingertips like a charm. "The men who beat you? Bruno sent them himself."

My breath hitched before I could stop it.

Adriana watched my face with hungry satisfaction. "It was his punishment," she went on, savoring every word, "for making me ill with all your self-made drama."

My stomach turned. Even knowing what I'd overheard while Dottore Alberti was stitching me back together, hearing it said aloud, so casually, so openly, still felt like a claw dragging down my chest. Like Bruno's hands were on my throat again, squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

Adriana laughed louder, rubbing the ring as if polishing a trophy. Then her fingers loosened.

The ring slipped.

It clattered down the stairs with a sharp, metallic sound, striking step after step like a countdown.

"What did you just do?" The words ripped out of me before I could swallow them back.

My body moved on instinct. That ring wasn't just metal. It was three years of a lie, and the last proof I hadn't imagined all of it. I lunged forward.

But as I rushed past her, Adriana shifted.

She leaned into my path, blocking me with her body. Her lips curled into something colder than a smile. In one smooth motion she caught my wrist and guided my hand upward, as if I were the one reaching for her.

She pressed my palm against her shoulder.

Then she screamed.

A piercing, theatrical sound that split the hush of the estate like a blade.

Adriana threw herself backward, twisting as she went, letting her body tumble down the stairs. Her robe flared like the wings of a wounded dove. She hit the marble hard, half-kneeling in a heap, hair scattered, tears already spilling as though she'd been rehearsing them all morning.

"Ah!" she wailed. "It hurts!"

Footsteps thundered up from below. Heavy. Furious. Familiar.

Bruno reached the base of the stairs first, and behind him came my parents, their faces set in that righteous outrage they wore like a family crest. The whole house seemed to draw its shoulders in around him, the way men in this life straighten when someone who can end them walks into a room.

From where they stood, they saw only what Adriana wanted them to see.

Me, at the top of the staircase.

Adriana, curled on the floor below, sobbing like a victim carved out of porcelain.

Bruno stormed up the last few steps, seized my arm, and yanked me forward. His grip bruised at once, as if his body remembered how to hurt me better than it ever remembered how to hold me.

"Lucia!" he shouted. "How could you push Adriana?"

"I didn't push her." My voice came out rough, dragged through teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. "She fell on her own."

My father's face flushed dark red, his temper flaring like a lit fuse. "Are you still lying?" he bellowed. "You know Adriana's health is delicate. How could you be so cruel?"

My mother stepped forward, her eyes like winter ice. She didn't ask. She didn't hesitate. She shoved me hard.

My lower back slammed into the railing. Pain shot up my spine and stole the breath from my lungs. Something in me snarled, not in rage, but in humiliation. A daughter shoved by her own mother, the Matriarch of the Barsanti name, as if I were some stray hauled in off the street by mistake.

On the floor, Adriana lifted her head and clung to Bruno's shirt with trembling fingers, tears glistening in her lashes.

"Bruno," she whispered, her voice weak and sweet, "don't blame Lucia. Maybe I bumped into her and made her angry. Just... pretend I fell on my own. Don't make trouble for my parents." Her free hand drifted up to smooth a strand of hair that hadn't moved at all.

Her performance was flawless. It painted her as kind and me as a monster.

Bruno's expression darkened further. He looked at Adriana as if she were something fragile made of moonlight. Then he turned on me as if I were dirt under his shoe.

He snatched up the ring where it had come to rest near the bottom step. For a heartbeat it flashed in his hand, the stone catching the light like a star.

Then he hurled it to the floor.

The ring shattered. The gemstone split. Fragments scattered like tiny, cruel teeth across the marble.

Something inside me twisted so hard it felt as if my ribs cracked all over again.

Bruno's eyes burned with fury. "Why do you always hurt Adriana and then blame her?" he demanded. "Do you understand that deliberately harming someone can put you away for years?"

I stared at the broken pieces, at the ruin of something I'd once guarded like a vow. The man I had loved most was standing firmly at Adriana's side again, defending her without a single question.

Slowly, a bitter smile spread across my mouth.

"You want to hand me to the law over this?" I said, my voice shaking with cold anger. "Fine. Let them check the estate cameras. Let them pull the house footage. Let them see exactly who staged this little performance."

I shoved Bruno's chest hard enough to make him take half a step back.

Then I raised my hand.

The slap cracked across Adriana's face, sharp and undeniable, echoing through the stairwell like a verdict handed down.

Adriana froze. Her fingers flew to her cheek. For one moment, she forgot to cry.

I leaned in slightly, my voice low and viciously clear. "See that? This time I really hit you. Now you can scream with proof."

Bruno's shock lasted half a breath.

Then his palm struck my face with full force.

My head snapped to the side. Heat bloomed across my cheek. My vision flashed white.

His eyes were cold when I looked back at him. Colder than the night I was dragged into the dark.

"I haven't even dealt with what happened last time," he said, his voice flat with contempt. "You've barely left the doctor's table and already you're going after Adriana again."

His gaze pinned me like prey. "I'll have you locked up. You can sit there until you've thought it through. When you finally understand what you've done, I'll come for you."

Before I could answer, his men seized my arms.

Their hands were iron. Their presence pressed down on me, heavy and silencing, the way muscle always closes ranks around a made man's word. They dragged me toward the doors of the estate as if I were a criminal being walked out under the eyes of the whole Family.

Bruno didn't even look at me again.

He turned instead, gathered Adriana into his arms, and held her close. His face softened into heartbreak as he murmured comfort into her hair.

It was almost impressive, how quickly he could turn tender for the right woman.

They took me to one of the Family's holding rooms below the club, all cold stone and iron bars, the air thick with disinfectant and old fear. The moment I was set down across the table, Bruno came in behind me like weather that didn't care who it drowned.

He tossed a confession onto the table.

"Sign it," he ordered, his voice cold.

I picked up the pen.

My hand didn't tremble.

I didn't sign.

I tore the paper into pieces instead, slowly, deliberately, letting the sound of it fill the room like a warning.

Then I lifted my eyes to him and laughed under my breath, low and mocking.

"Bruno," I said quietly, "why should I sign something when I've done nothing wrong?"

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out anyway. "If you really want to put me in a cell, don't hide behind excuses. I want to see how far you'll go for Adriana. I want to see what you become when you decide I'm disposable."

For a split second his face looked... strained. As if something inside him tried to rise. His jaw worked, and his thumb found the signet ring on his finger and began to turn it, round and round.

Then it vanished. He turned away sharply, the ring gripped hard in his fist.

"Lock her up," he told the enforcers coldly. "Release her tonight. Let her reflect."

He walked out without looking back.

I watched him leave, my eyes burning, my throat tight with tears I refused to shed in front of anyone who hadn't earned them.

Between Adriana and me, he never hesitated.

Even when I was innocent, he always chose her.

And every choice he made pushed me deeper into the abyss, as if he wanted to see whether I would crawl back out, or finally stop trying.

In the dim light of that cell, I went very still. My hand found the thin scar on my wrist, the only inheritance my family had ever left me, and I touched it once.

Not afraid this time.

Angry.

And awake.

Lucias POV

Bruno had barely stepped out when my parents arrived.

The narrow cellar corridor seemed to shrink the moment they came into view, the weight of a Don and his Matriarch filling the space like suffocating fog. They didnt rush to me. They didnt ask how I was. They stood a few steps away, looking at me the way you look at a stain that had finally refused to scrub out.

My mother spoke first, her tone clipped and cold, stripped of any warmth a mother should have.

Lucia, admit your mistakes. Confess properly, and Bruno will let you go.

My father nodded beside her, eyes sharp, voice edged like a blade forged by the old code.

Youve shamed the Barsanti name enough. Stop resisting.

I couldnt help it. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Ever since the day they brought me back under the family roof, I had been trained to lower my head. If I read the ledgers cleaner than Adriana, that was my fault. If I closed a deal she fumbled, if I saw the angle she missed, that was my fault too. If I didnt smile sweetly, didnt act the doting, obedient sister she wanted at her heel, every difference became another sin.

I had admitted fault for years. Until the words themselves had lost all meaning.

This time, I didnt bow.

Swallowing the bitterness clawing at my throat, I asked calmly, Whats the point of admitting anything now?

I lifted my eyes to meet theirs, my voice steady despite the ache spreading through my chest.

Should I admit I didnt push Adriana hard enough?

The slap came before the echo of my words faded.

My fathers hand struck my face with a sharp crack, the force snapping my head to the side. Pain flared hot across my cheek, bright enough to blur my vision for a second. I tasted blood.

But I didnt cry.

I straightened slowly, lifted my chin in stubborn defiance, and let out a cold, humorless snort.

I was taken, I said hoarsely. Locked up. Beaten. Nearly broken. And all you cared about was whether Adriana caught a cold.

Something in my chest growled low, furious and wounded.

Now she stages a fake fall, I continued, voice shaking but unbroken, and you drag me down here to confess again. Tell me, am I just some stray you pulled off the street? Something disposable you can blame whenever she cries?

Neither of them flinched.

They looked at me the way you look at an enemy, not a daughter. A threat to the fragile balance theyd built around Adriana.

My mother pressed her lips into a thin line. She lifted a folded handkerchief and dabbed once at the dry corner of her eye.

Ungrateful, she snapped. If you refuse to admit fault, then stay here.

My father turned away first.

They left without another glance, their footsteps echoing down the corridor like a verdict already passed.

Before I could protest, the men seized me. Their hands were rough, impatient, hauling me forward until I stumbled. They shoved me down into a narrow holding cell deep beneath the familys station.

The door slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Only a thin blade of light slipped through a slit near the ceiling, barely enough to remind me the world still existed outside these walls. The air was stale, heavy, pressing against my lungs.

My body began to tremble.

The walls felt too close. The ceiling too low. My chest tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing my ribs inward. Claustrophobia surged, violent and merciless, dragging memories of that other dark room back to the surface.

Bruno, I whispered instinctively, my voice cracking. Bruno.

No answer came.

Only silence. Only darkness.

Time lost all meaning.

When the cell door finally creaked open, I flinched so hard my back slammed against the wall. Shapes filled the doorway. Broad, hard-faced women with the flat, indifferent eyes of enforcers who had long since stopped caring about anything but orders and cash.

One of them smirked.

That her? Miss Barsanti said to teach her a lesson.

My heart dropped.

A short-haired one stepped forward, cracking her knuckles with deliberate slowness. Panic surged through me. I backed away, but another fist twisted into my hair and yanked me down.

The floor rushed up to meet me.

Fists and boots followed.

Each blow exploded through my body, sharp and unforgiving. Pain radiated through my ribs, my back, my legs. Old injuries screamed as they tore open again. I tried to fight back, but my strength was gone, my body still healing from the last beating.

I was no match for them.

I curled in on myself, arms shielding my head, biting down on my screams as they vented their cruelty without restraint. The world narrowed to pain and breath and the metallic taste of blood.

Enough! a man barked from beyond the bars. Stop it!

Reluctantly, they stepped back.

I lay sprawled on the cold floor, barely conscious, blood soaking into the stone beneath me. My vision dimmed. My back burned where old wounds split anew, each movement sending agony through my bones.

Laughter echoed faintly as the door opened again.

Hands grabbed me. I was dragged out, my body scraping against the ground. Their mocking voices followed me like ghosts, but I didnt have the strength to answer.

A full day and night passed.

Then, without ceremony, I was thrown out of the station.

Sunlight hit my eyes like a blade. I raised a trembling hand to shield my face, swaying as I forced myself upright. Step by step, limping and dizzy, I made my way to a clinic that asked no questions.

After my wounds were cleaned and hastily bandaged, I turned to leave.

That was when I saw them.

Bruno froze the moment his eyes landed on me. Shock flickered across his face, genuine this time. He stared as if seeing me for the first time.

How, his brow furrowed. How did you end up like this?

For a heartbeat, something like heartache crossed his eyes. His hand lifted, as if he meant to help me.

I stepped back.

Before I could speak, Adriana rushed to his side, clinging to his arm like she belonged there. She looked at me with wide, worried eyes, perfectly rehearsed.

Lucia, she said softly, Bruno released you yesterday. Why didnt you come home last night? And how did you hurt yourself so badly?

She turned to him, voice gentle as venom, reaching up to smooth a strand of hair that hadnt moved out of place.

Dont blame her. She probably just wants attention. Look at her, shes really hurt. Lets treat her first, all right?

Her words worked instantly.

The concern vanished from Brunos eyes, replaced by cold fury. He looked at me as if I were something repulsive. His thumb found the signet ring on his finger and turned it, once.

Youre doing this again, he snapped. Lucia, your lies are obvious now. Nobody believes you anymore.

This time, I didnt argue.

I simply looked at him, memorizing the face I had once loved with everything I had. His eyes were still beautiful. But empty of me.

He turned to Adriana, gently taking her hand. Without looking back, he said, If she has the strength to hurt herself, she has the strength to walk home.

Then, colder still, Watch her. Dont let her take a single shortcut.

They walked away together.

I stood there alone for a long moment before forcing my legs to move. Each step burned. Each breath hurt.

And with every painful stride, one thought carved itself deeper into my mind, sharper than any blade.

I will make them pay.

All of them.

Lucias POV

When I finally reached the estate and pushed the heavy front door open, Adrianas sobs poured out of the sitting room like a blade dragged across my nerves.

She was curled up on the sofa, trembling, her face buried against Brunos chest. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, protectively, as if she were something fragile that might shatter if he loosened his grip even slightly. The room smelled of her perfume, sweet, pitiful, carefully measured, so different from the sharp bitterness of iron and cold stone clinging to my own clothes.

Bruno Adriana cried hoarsely. I dont want to go through with the alliance union. I dont want to be handed to that madman. Hes cruel. Brutal. The women married off to seal his last two truces they all ended up in the ground. Her fingers clenched in his shirt. Why does it have to be me? Why cant it be Lucia instead?

Her words landed with surgical precision.

Brunos hand moved slowly, soothing her back in steady circles, the way a man calmed something frightened. His voice dropped into that gentle register he only ever used for her.

Dont be afraid. With me here, no one forces you into anything. He paused, then added with quiet certainty, No matter whose name goes to the Commission, it wont be yours.

My parents echoed him at once, the weight of the Barsanti name wrapping around Adriana like armor.

Dont worry, sweetheart, my mother said softly. We would never send you to that Family.

Well protect you, my father added. No matter what.

I stood in the doorway, half in shadow.

No one looked at me.

Not Bruno. Not my parents. Not even Adriana, who wept so convincingly in his arms. It was as if I were already invisible, already chosen as the unspoken price to be paid.

Without saying a word, I walked past them and went straight to my room.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence cracked something open inside my chest.

Memories flooded in without mercy.

I remembered the night I had mentioned, only in passing, that I wanted to watch the sun rise above the clouds. That same evening Bruno had a private plane fueled and waiting. By dawn we stood on a cliff on some remote island, an observation deck built overnight so I wouldnt have to stand in the cold sea wind.

He had once burned through a fortune without blinking, just to make me smile.

He took me skiing through the Alps, held my hand while we chased the aurora across frozen plains, cooked for me when I was too tired to eat, carried me off to places most men in our world never see. He photographed every trip, every laugh, every quiet moment, as if he were afraid time would steal them from him.

Back then, I truly believed he was mine.

Now I understood the truth.

I wasnt irreplaceable. I was just new.

A novelty. A distraction that had lasted longer than expected.

I wiped my tears away quickly, refusing myself the luxury of breaking down. My hands moved with practiced calm as I reached into my pocket and drew out a small recorder. I removed the memory card, then slid it into an envelope with a copy of the detention blocks security footage.

I sent everything to my contact with a single tap.

As the bar crawled across the screen, a bitter taste rose in my throat.

At first I had only meant to capture Adrianas pitiful performance in front of Bruno and my parents. Insurance, nothing more. But fate had been cruelly efficient. I had also caught her ordering those men to teach me a lesson.

When the files finally went through, my screen dimmed.

Footsteps sounded outside my door.

My heart tightened.

The door opened quietly, and Bruno stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, his presence as familiar as it was unbearable. Before I could react, he crossed the room in long strides and pulled me into his arms.

The scent of cedar and night air clung to him, the same scent that once made me feel safe. Now it only made me feel trapped.

He rested his chin against the top of my head, his grip firm, almost desperate.

Forgive me, Lucia, he whispered weakly.

I froze in his embrace.

My lips pressed together, every word lodged painfully in my throat. I didnt answer. He didnt seem to need me to.

Dont be so hard on Adriana, he went on softly, as if soothing a child. Shes different from you. Youre the Barsantis blood daughter. You already have everything.

He hesitated, then added, Ill marry you one day.

My fingers curled slowly. Somewhere behind me, I heard him twist the signet ring around and around his finger.

But Adriana His voice gentled further. She has nothing. Its only natural for her to be sensitive. You should try to understand her. Be patient with her.

I have everything

The words slipped out of me in a whisper so bitter it made my stomach churn.

So this was his apology.

He hadnt come to admit fault. He hadnt come to acknowledge what had been done to me in that cell. He had come to excuse Adriana, and to remind me of my place.

Bruno truly believed that an embrace and a few soft words could erase everything. That no matter how deeply he cut me, I would forgive him the way I always had. Even though only yesterday he had sent me home bruised, broken, and bleeding.

In his eyes, he could strike me ninety-nine times, then toss me a single bone and expect me to crawl back, grateful.

I lifted my head and looked at his face.

My heart ached so fiercely it felt like it might splinter apart.

Slowly, I understood something that mattered.

Bruno was wrong.

And this time, I would not come back.

Lucia's POV

The next morning, I was dragged out of sleep by a burst of noise from the courtyard below.

Laughter. Music. Shouts layered with celebration, the kind that carried across the Ferraro estate like a warning.

My head was still heavy when I forced myself upright. Before I could fully wake, a maid knocked sharply on my door, her voice carefully neutral, the way everyone's voice went neutral inside these walls.

"Miss Lucia, Don Bruno has brought entertainers into the courtyard. He asks that you come down to watch."

Entertainers.

I let out a breath that tasted faintly of irony.

In the Ferraro house, nothing was ever only entertainment. Every display was a statement, a thing arranged to be witnessed by the whole family, soldiers and capos and cousins alike. Bruno understood that better than anyone.

And he also knew I hated crowds. Hated noise. Hated being made into spectacle.

Those things had always belonged to Adriana.

I pushed myself out of bed, my injuries protesting beneath my skin. The faint ache along my ribs reminded me that I was still healing, that I had not yet recovered from the cellar, from the fear, from the betrayal.

"I won't" I began.

But before the words left my mouth, the door opened again.

Adriana walked in first.

She wore a pale dress that flowed like mist, her hair loose over her shoulders. Bruno stood beside her, his arm around her waist with the unconscious familiarity of a man who no longer thought about where his hands went. They looked harmonious. Like a pair the family was meant to see together.

Adriana's smile bloomed the moment she spotted me.

"Lucia," she said brightly, crossing the room in quick, light steps. She grabbed my hand, her grip warm and intimate, as though we had never been enemies. "Come on, don't sulk. Bruno arranged all of this just for you."

Her fingers tightened slightly, nails pressing into my skin. With her free hand she reached up and smoothed a strand of hair that hadn't moved at all.

"If you don't come down," she added softly, "he'll be disappointed."

Bruno stood behind her, his gaze fixed on my face. There was something in his eyes, expectation, maybe even hope, as if he truly believed this could erase everything that had happened.

"Just take a look," he said. "Alright?"

They were perfectly aligned.

I felt like prey cornered by two people who had already decided the outcome.

With Adriana pulling me forward and Bruno watching closely, I had no room to refuse. I was escorted downstairs, step by step, my feet heavy, my chest tight.

The courtyard had been transformed.

A raised stage stood at its center, family members gathered around it in excited clusters, wine glasses catching the morning light. A fire-breather stood atop the platform, flames bursting from his mouth in violent arcs that lit the air in blazing orange and red.

The heat washed over me in suffocating waves.

Something in me stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

Adriana clung to Bruno's arm as though frightened, whispering into his ear. Bruno leaned down, listening, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, wiping sweat from her brow with practiced tenderness.

They looked like the promised couple of the family.

I stood off to the side.

Invisible.

Unnecessary.

Bruno's phone rang suddenly. He murmured something to Adriana and stepped away to answer it, his back turning to the stage, the way a man does when the call matters more than the room.

That was when the unease sharpened into something lethal.

I stared at the flames, every instinct screaming. Fire had always meant something in this house. Purification. Judgment. Destruction. Nothing was ever set alight here without meaning.

Then I felt it.

Adriana's gaze.

I turned.

The sweet smile she had worn moments ago was gone. In its place was a twisted, chilling expression that made my blood run cold.

Before I could step back, she lunged.

Her hand clamped around my arm with shocking strength, far stronger than she ever pretended to be. She shoved me forward, straight toward the rope line that separated the guests from the roaring fire.

"Ah!"

I screamed as the heat slammed into my face, my skin burning instantly. I struggled, but her grip was merciless.

Then, in a single smooth motion, she released me.

And threw herself even closer to the flames.

"Bruno!" she screamed, voice tearing through the courtyard. "Help me!"

Chaos erupted.

Bruno spun around, his phone hitting the ground as he charged forward without hesitation. He broke through the cordon, scooped Adriana into his arms, and staggered back, shielding her body with his own.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Soldiers near the wall went rigid, hands drifting toward their jackets before they understood there was no shooter, only fire.

The moment Bruno steadied himself, his expression hardened. He turned toward me, eyes blazing with fury.

Before I could speak, pain exploded across my face.

His palm struck my cheek with brutal force.

"Why did you push her?" he roared. "Are you trying to kill her?!"

My ears rang. The world tilted.

"I didn't" I tried to say.

He didn't listen.

Bruno shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward and fell, my shoulder grazing the edge of the spreading flames. Searing pain tore through me, ripping a cry from my throat.

That sound made him freeze.

For a fraction of a second, something like hesitation flickered in his eyes. His hand rose halfway to the signet ring on his finger, and stopped.

But then Adriana clutched his chest weakly.

"Bruno Lucia looks worse than I do," she whispered. "Take her to be looked at first"

The hesitation vanished.

Bruno looked at me with open disgust, then turned back to Adriana as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience in his house.

"Bring her too," he ordered his men coldly. "Get the dottore."

He carried Adriana away like she was made of glass.

I lay on the ground, firelight flickering above me. The pain in my shoulder deepened, spreading through my body. My vision blurred as the enforcers rushed toward me.

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me

Was the flames still burning.

Lucias POV

Because my body had been broken again and again, it never had the chance to properly heal. The reckoning came fast and merciless.

I burned with fever.

For three full days, I drifted in and out of consciousness, trapped between pain and dreams. My body lay helpless on the safe-house cot, but something deeper in me was dragged far away, into memories I had long tried to bury.

The dream was warm.

Too warm.

Golden light spilled everywhere, gentle and forgiving. In it, I was never abandoned.

My parents had never taken Adriana into the Family. In this world, there was only me, their blood-daughter, their pride, the future Signora of the Barsanti name. My mother smiled at me the way she used to when I was little, smoothing my hair and telling me I was precious. My fathers hand rested on my shoulder, steady and protective, as if no enemy in the world could ever touch me.

And Bruno

Bruno was still the boy who used to wait outside my door every morning, patient, so he could walk me to school. He had always stayed close back then, guarding me on instinct long before either of us understood what an arranged alliance was meant to become.

In the dream, he made his promise beneath an old rose arbor, the kind kept for the vows that bound two Families. He said he would make me his, his Signora, his forever. Our union was sealed in the garden, moonlight pouring down as the old men of the Commission gave their blessing.

Later, we had a child.

A small, warm bundle with Brunos eyes and my quiet.

We were happy. Whole.

Then the light went out.

Without warning, the warmth shattered. The smiles on my parents faces twisted into something cold and unfamiliar. Brunos hand, once so warm, turned icy, slipping from mine as though I had never mattered.

They stood together at the edge of a cliff.

Laughing.

And then they pushed me.

I fell into endless darkness, something inside me howling in terror as the bond snapped, the pain ripping through me like claws tearing flesh.

I woke with a sharp gasp, my chest heaving violently.

My eyes flew open to an empty room.

White walls. A monitor beeping somewhere near my head. No familiar scent. No one keeping watch over me.

My body felt unbearably heavy, as though my bones had been filled with lead. Pain throbbed through my shoulder, deep and relentless. When I tried to sit up, my arm trembled violently, numb and useless.

Gritting my teeth, I tore the needle from the back of my hand and slid off the cot.

The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet.

As I stepped into the hallway, faint voices drifted toward me from the desk where the off-the-books physicians people kept their vigil.

Did you see the two Barsanti girls?

Of course. Their situations couldnt be more different.

Adriana barely had a scratch on her, but the Don and the Signora sat with her day and night. And Bruno Ferraro never left her side.

There was a pause.

Meanwhile, Lucia was half-dead. Three days out cold. Not a single visitor.

Their words were quiet, but painfully clear.

Each syllable cut into my chest like a blade.

My knees weakened, but I braced myself against the wall. Something in me stirred faintly, wounded but awake, as if reminding me not to collapse here.

Without hesitation, I walked to the desk, signed myself out against every objection, and left.

No one tried to stop me.

When I returned to the Barsanti estate, the silence was unnatural. The house that once smelled of Sunday dinner and shared blood felt hollow, empty of warmth.

I went straight to my room and began packing.

There wasnt much.

Just one small suitcase.

That was everything I owned in this house.

After finishing, I went downstairs for water. Before I reached the sitting room, laughter drifted in from the front hall.

They were back.

My parents came in first, carefully steadying Adriana as she limped inside like a fragile porcelain doll. Bruno followed close behind, his eyes filled with unmistakable tenderness as he watched her every step.

They talked and laughed, their voices light, as if nothing had happened.

As if I hadnt almost died.

When they saw me, Bruno froze. For a brief moment, something like heartache flickered in his eyes as he took in my pale face and the way I held myself upright by will alone.

But before he could speak, my mother crossed the floor toward me, her expression sharp and accusing.

Lucia, what is wrong with you? she snapped. Why didnt you send word you were discharging yourself? Do you have any idea how worried we were?

My father joined in at once. Adriana already explained everything. She said she lost her footing and dragged you toward the flames by accident. Out of guilt, she pushed you clear to save you!

And you. Walking out of there alone like this. Making a scene again?

Adriana lowered her head, looking weak and pitiful.

But I saw it.

The faint, triumphant curve of her lips. And then, so smooth I almost missed it, her hand rose to tuck back a strand of hair that had never fallen out of place.

She was looking at me the way a victor surveys the battlefield.

Something inside me finally broke.

I laughed. Soft at first. Then bitter.

Worried about me? I asked quietly. So worried that in three days of my lying there half-dead, not one of you came to see me even once?

My gaze shifted to Adriana, cold and unblinking.

Lost your footing again? I said flatly. You really do come up with new stories quickly.

For the first time, I didnt lower my head.

I looked at them like strangers.

The room had gone very quiet. My fingers found the thin scar on my wrist and pressed it once, the only inheritance this family had ever given me.

Watch your precious daughter carefully, I warned, my voice calm but sharp. If she lays a hand on me again, I wont hold back. If I am unhappy, she wont be happy either.

Their faces twisted with shock and fury. I didnt care.

I turned and walked upstairs without looking back.

This house. This name. These people.

They were no longer worth even a single heartbeat of my life.

Lucias POV

I had already said everything that needed to be said.

The suitcase was closed at my feet, my room stripped bare of anything that still carried a trace of me. I was ready to leave the Barsanti estate for good when the door suddenly slammed open with a violent crack.

Adriana stepped inside.

She wore sharp heels that clicked arrogantly against the marble, her posture straight and confident, as if this room already belonged to her. She carried herself the way the favored ones always did in this house, full of provocation and triumph. She looked at me the way a victor looks at prey that has already been cornered.

Lucia, she said slowly, her lips curling, do you really think youre special just because youre the Dons blood daughter?

She took another step closer, eyes glittering.

They love me now. Not you.

Her words were deliberate, meant to sink in like a blade slid between ribs.

Ive known it from the start, she continued, voice dripping with mockery. Youre marrying that madman for me, arent you? The Don of the Lombardi Family. Isnt the bride price just one billion?

She laughed softly.

After I stand beside Bruno as his Signora, do you know how much therell be? Far more than that. The Ferraro operation and the Barsanti operation already run the biggest pipelines in the territory. Once the two Families are joined, no one on the Commission will be able to touch us.

She leaned close, her breath brushing my ear, her tone dropping into something vicious and intimate.

And you? she whispered. Youre just trading one hell for another. The Lombardi Family is infamous. Brutal. Old blood. Once you walk into that estate, you might not survive three days.

Her eyes shone with cruel delight.

If you live, you get the money. If you die she shrugged lightly, it stays untouched.

Something inside me snapped.

The rage I had been suppressing, all my own humiliation, finally burst free.

My hand rose before I even realized it.

Smack.

The sound echoed sharply through the room, like a gunshot. Adrianas head snapped to the side as she staggered back, shock flashing across her face.

I smiled.

Not bitterly.

Coldly.

Really? I said, staring straight at her. Then I hope you get exactly what you deserve.

She covered her cheek, disbelief written all over her face. Her free hand drifted up to smooth a strand of hair that hadnt moved at all, and her smile held a beat too long.

You, you dare hit me? she screamed. Lucia, how dare you.

I didnt let her finish.

My hand came down again, harder than before.

This time, blood bloomed instantly at the corner of her mouth, a thin crimson line sliding down her pale chin.

At that exact moment, hurried footsteps thundered outside.

The door burst open.

Bruno stormed in.

The instant his eyes landed on the blood at Adrianas lips, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. The men who had followed him in went still in the doorway, hands drifting toward their jackets, waiting for a word that hadnt come yet.

Lucia! he roared. Have you lost your mind? Who gave you the right to touch her?

He rushed past me without a second glance, pulling Adriana into his arms as if she were something precious and fragile. His jaw worked silently as he wiped the blood from her lips, his fingers twisting the signet ring round and round.

Then, without warning.

Smack.

Pain exploded across my face.

My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. Something in my chest folded in on itself and went quiet.

I swallowed hard and slowly lifted my head.

I wasnt angry.

I smiled.

Bruno, I said quietly, I hope you wont regret this.

My parents arrived right after, their footsteps quick, their expressions full of outrage.

But not for me.

Lucia, you ungrateful wretch! my father shouted. How could you hurt Adriana like this? What has she ever done to you?

Adriana clung tightly to Bruno, crying softly. Her voice trembled as she spoke, gentle and pitiful.

Bruno Mamma Pap please dont scold Lucia anymore. Its my fault. I shouldnt have upset her.

She sniffed, then added, voice thick with false sorrow,

Im leaving tomorrow. I wont trouble this family again. I just dont want her to be unhappy because of me

Her performance was flawless.

Brunos expression darkened further, his rage boiling over.

He turned sharply toward the doorway.

Two enforcers in black appeared instantly.

Take her out to the yard, Bruno ordered coldly. String her up from the old oak.

He paused, then added, his words cutting into me like claws,

Let the sun burn the poison out of her. The Ferraro Family does not keep women this vile.

Before I could react, the enforcers seized my arms.

Bruno! Let me go! I struggled. You cant do this to me!

No one listened.

They dragged me into the yard, my resistance meaningless against their strength. Rough rope bit into my ankles as they bound me tightly. With a hard yank, they hoisted me upside down from the tall, ancient oak, the tree this family had always used to make its lessons stick.

Blood rushed to my head, dizziness crashing over me in waves.

The midday sun was merciless.

It burned my skin, scorched my lungs, and made my vision swim. My heartbeat thundered painfully in my ears as my chest tightened, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Through the haze, I tilted my head and looked toward the living room window.

Inside, Bruno was carefully cleaning the cut at the corner of Adrianas mouth. My parents sat beside her, speaking softly, their faces full of concern.

They looked like a perfect family.

Tears streamed from my eyes, falling uselessly to the ground below, drying the moment they touched the scorching earth.

I went very still, and my thumb found the thin scar on my wrist, the only inheritance this family had ever given me. I touched it once.

Just one day.

I only need to endure one day.

When I get free, every single one of them will pay for what theyve done.

Lucias POV

The sun climbed higher.

The heat became unbearable.

My vision blurred. The world spun violently around me.

And thenEverything went black.

When consciousness returned, it came slowly, like wading up from dark water.

I was lying in my own room.

A soft quilt covered me, its familiar scent failing to bring any comfort. My shoulder throbbed faintly beneath fresh bandages, the gauze clean and carefully wrapped. Someone had tended to my wounds with the practiced hand of a man who worked off the books, the kind the Family called when a hospital would ask too many questions. Almost reverently.

Footsteps sounded near the door.

Missyoure awake? the maid whispered in relief when she noticed my eyes open. Don Ferraro was very distressed yesterday after he had you cut down from the cellar. He told us to take special care of you.

Her words washed over me without leaving a ripple.

She gestured toward a large box placed beside the bed. It was sealed with silver clasps, engraved with the Ferraro crest.

Don Ferraro had this delivered before dawn, she continued cautiously. Its a bridal gown. Its already been fitted to you. He saidhe wants you to try it on. The union is sealed before the Commission the day after tomorrow.

I turned my head.

The gown lay there quietly, pure white fabric folded with care, as sacred as an offering laid at a saints feet. Once, I had imagined wearing it into the church, binding my name to Brunos before God and the whole famiglia.

Now, my heart felt like a dead plain.

Without answering, I pushed the quilt aside and swung my legs over the bed. The sudden movement made my vision sway, but I steadied myself and stood. I didnt spare the gown another glance as I walked straight for the door.

The hallway was quiet.

Halfway down the corridor, Adriana appeared.

She stopped when she saw me, her eyes flickering with surprise before settling into contempt. The air around her turned sharp, invasive, the way a room turns when someone dangerous decides to be cruel.

Well, well, she said, lips curving. Youre impressive, Lucia. Strung up in the cellar yesterday, and now youve somehow made Bruno feel sorry for you again?

She took a step closer, voice lowering.

Whats your plan this time? Wear the gown and crawl back into his bed? Ruin my union before its even sealed?

I didnt slow.

I dont care about the dress, I said calmly. Ill give it to you. Im not fighting you for Bruno.

She froze.

Youll be the one marrying him, I continued, my tone flat and final. Not me.

For the first time, Adriana looked genuinely shaken. Her smile held a beat too long, and her hand drifted up to smooth a strand of hair that wasnt out of place.

I brushed past her without another word. Each step down the stairs sent a dull ache through my body, but I forced myself onward and pushed open the front doors of the estate.

Cool air rushed over my face.

The wind carried the faint scent of pine and cold stone, clearing my head far better than any medicine off Dottore Albertis tray. Brunos guilt, his hollow gestures of concern, meant nothing now.

I didnt need his pity.

I needed time.

Two days.

Two days to leave.

Two days to prepare.

And two days to ensure that everyone who had torn me apart paid in full.

I pulled out my phone with steady fingers and sent a message to the few people I still trusted. In that stillness I touched the thin scar on my wrist once, the only inheritance my family ever gave me.

[In two days, release every recording, every ledger, to all the major outlets.

Immediately choke off all laundering pipelines and hidden accounts feeding the Barsanti and the Ferraro operations.]

I stared at the screen as the message sent.

To the Barsantis. To the Ferraros.

I will make you pay.

I had barely lowered my phone when a hand suddenly clamped over my mouth and nose from behind. A sharp, chemical scent flooded my senses. Instinct surged, my body straining to fight, but the wounds and the sleepless night betrayed me.

The world tilted.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When I woke again, cold iron pressed against my spine.

My wrists were bound. My ankles chained. I was tied to a heavy iron chair in a damp, lightless room. The air reeked of rust and stagnant water.

In the corner, Adriana was there too.

She was tied up, her head bowed as she sobbed softly, shoulders shaking. The sight didnt bring relief. It made my stomach twist.

Footsteps approached.

A tall man emerged from the shadows, a jagged scar cutting down his cheek. He moved like a man who had done this many times and had never once lost sleep over it, loyal to nothing but the number at the end of a job.

He picked up a phone, dialed, and turned on the speaker.

Don Ferraro, he said lazily. Come quickly if you want to save your woman.

Ten minutes later, the door burst open.

Bruno rushed in, and for a moment the whole room seemed to tilt toward him the way it does when a made man walks in wearing his rage on the outside. His gaze snapped to Adriana, and then to me. Panic flickered across his face before Salvatore Greco stepped forward, twirling a dagger between his fingers, dragging his thumb slow along the scar on his cheek.

I hear one of them is your promised bride, Salvatore said. Lets play a game. Choose one.

Bruno froze.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Somewhere water dripped, and the sound of it was impossibly loud.

I his voice faltered. His jaw worked, and his fingers found the signet ring on his hand, twisting it round and round.

Stop wasting my time! Salvatore barked.

He grabbed both of us by the neck, cutting off our air. My chest burned as my breath came in frantic gasps.

Bruno! Adriana screamed, her voice shrill with terror. Im scared! It hurts! Pleasesave me!

Brunos fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. His eyes darted between us, his jaw trembling, the ring turning faster.

Finally, he spoke.

I choose Adriana.

The words struck deeper than any blade.

Salvatore laughed.

He yanked me forward by my hair and shoved me toward a dark pool beside the room. The icy water swallowed me whole. My lungs screamed, my body convulsing as I fought desperately for air.

Once.

Twice.

I was dragged up only to be forced back under again.

When they finally pulled me out and dumped me onto the cold floor, I coughed violently, gasping like a dying animal.

Decisive choice, Don Ferraro, the man mocked.

Before I could recover, rough hands seized us both.

They dragged Adriana and me toward two massive iron cages.

The doors slammed shut.

And the darkness closed in once more.

Lucias POV

The damp cellar swallowed the slow scrape of boots against concrete.

Salvatore Greco stopped in front of the cages, running his thumb slowly along the old scar down his cheek, twirling the blade between his fingers as if this were nothing more than a way to pass a dull evening. His presence pressed down on the room, thick with cruelty, the stink of gun oil and mildew hanging in the dark.

Don Ferraro, he drawled, tilting his head. Time to choose again. Who do we pick this round?

Bruno stiffened.

His eyes flicked toward Adriana on instinct.

She was pale, trembling in the iron cage across from mine, her fingers wrapped around the bars as if they were her last lifeline. When she looked at him, her eyes shone with desperate hope, glossy with unshed tears. She had made herself small, fragile, pitiful, every inch of it laid out for him to see.

I choose Adriana! Bruno shouted without hesitation.

His voice rang through the cellar, sharp and resolute.

The answer landed like a blade to my chest.

Salvatore chuckled, plainly entertained. He unlocked one of the cages, but not hers. Rough hands seized me and shoved me deeper into the other cage. The iron door slammed shut with a deafening clang, sealing me inside a narrow, suffocating space.

The darkness closed in instantly.

Cold metal pressed against my back, my knees drawn tightly to my chest as my breathing turned shallow and uneven. Panic surged as the cramped space triggered the familiar terror clawing up my throat.

I curled into the corner, my entire body trembling.

Bruno My voice broke as I whispered his name, barely louder than a breath.

But outside, he didnt hear me.

All I could hear was Adrianas sobbing, her soft cries filling the cellar while Bruno murmured reassurances to her. His tone was gentle, soothing, nothing like the cold command he had used on me.

Time stretched.

Only after what felt like an eternity did he finally remember I existed.

Name your price, Bruno said impatiently, his voice hardening. Dont hurt Lucia again.

Salvatore burst out laughing.

One hundred million, he said cheerfully. Enough to buy one life. So, Don Ferraro, which one do you want to walk out of here?

The question lingered for less than a second.

Buy Adriana back, Bruno replied sharply. Dont touch her.

He almost barked the words, as if even a moments delay might cost her.

I leaned weakly against the cold bars as Adrianas cage was unlocked. The ropes fell away from her wrists, and she collapsed forward, dramatic to the last. Bruno rushed to catch her, pulling her into his arms as though she were made of glass.

She clung to him, sobbing into his chest.

I was too exhausted even to laugh.

Bruno lifted her carefully, then finally looked toward me. His expression was complicated, a mixture of guilt and obligation, as if he were granting me some kind of mercy.

Lucia, he said stiffly. Your sister is fragile. Ill take her first. Wait here. Ill wire the money and come back for you.

Wait here.

As if this cellar werent already a grave.

He didnt wait for my answer. Without another glance he carried Adriana out, her arms locked around his neck.

The sound of their footsteps faded into the dark.

Salvatore crouched in front of my cage and kicked my leg lightly through the bars, the way a man tests a trapped animal.

Your mans real devoted to her, he sneered. Guess blood dont count for much with him.

My chest burned as I coughed, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and forced myself to sit straighter, meeting his gaze without flinching.

How much, I asked calmly, would it cost to save my life?

The man paused.

Ill pay double whatever she offered, I continued evenly. Name your price.

His eyes gleamed. His thumb drifted back to the scar, slower now.

For a moment the pretense dropped. The act was no longer worth keeping.

Your sister wants you dead, he admitted bluntly. But we dont care about that. We care about money.

I already knew.

My hands trembled as I pulled out my cracked phone. The screen flickered, but it still worked. I dialed a number from memory and spoke quietly, every word steady despite the chaos raging inside me.

Move two hundred million. Now.

Minutes later the freelancers checked their accounts. Satisfied, they unlocked the cage and cut the restraints from my wrists.

I walked out without looking back.

Outside, the night air filled my lungs, sharp and cold, grounding me. I flagged the first cab I saw and gave the airport address without hesitation.

I didnt stop shaking until I reached the terminal.

Right before boarding, my phone buzzed.

One billion appeared in my account.

A message followed.

[Ferraro took the bait. Two days from now their cash chain freezes. Every laundering artery they run gets cut.]

I stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then, slowly, a faint smile curved my lips. Beneath it, I pressed my thumb once to the thin scar on my wrist, the only inheritance my family ever gave me.

Under the cold glow of the terminal lights, I finally lifted my head.

My revenge had officially begun.