Aria stared at Nico like he had just ripped open the floor beneath her feet.
Sofia Romano.
Her mother's sister.
The name hadn't passed through her lips in a decade.
Not since the night her mother collapsed at the dinner table, shaking, whispering that Sofia was cursed—that she had chosen fire over family.
Luciano straightened slowly, trying to piece together what Aria already knew in her bones.
"She's dead," Aria said, her voice quieter than a breath.
Nico shook his head. "She disappeared. Faked it. Changed her face, her name. She's been moving pieces behind the scenes for years. Your father answers to her now."
"No," Aria said, backing away slightly. "No. That's not possible."
"She's the reason Marco betrayed you," Nico continued. "The reason your father handed you over. She wants both bloodlines burned to ash."
Luciano stepped forward. "Why?"
Nico's eyes darkened. "Because she believes she was owed everything. That she should've inherited the Romano power—before your mother walked away from the syndicate. She thinks this empire was stolen from her."
Aria couldn't breathe.
All this time, she'd thought the ghosts haunting her were dead.
But one was still alive.
And building a war from the shadows.
⸻
Later that night, Aria found herself outside the mausoleum.
Her mother's grave was dusted with rain, the marble slick and pale in the moonlight.
"You knew," she whispered. "You knew she'd come back for blood."
Luciano stood behind her, silent. Watching.
"I remember her voice," Aria said. "The last time she came to the house. She told my mother, The crown should've been mine. But I'll take it off your daughter's corpse instead."
Luciano flinched.
"She meant it," Aria continued. "Even then."
"What are you going to do?" he asked softly.
She turned to face him, eyes glowing with fire.
"What I should've done a long time ago."
⸻
In the following days, the estate transformed.
The guards were retrained.
Marco was moved to a black site outside New York.
Nico was reinstated—but not trusted. Not yet.
Aria called in every Valenti contact who hadn't turned.
She personally interrogated the underbosses.
And when one tried to lie, she shot him in the knee and left him bleeding on the marble floor.
"I'm not here to be loved," she told them. "I'm here to finish the war my brother died in."
They listened after that.
⸻
Luciano watched her rise with something between awe and fear.
She didn't flinch. Didn't falter.
She was becoming the queen of fire she'd once pretended to be.
But something inside her was changing, too.
The hatred wasn't just a tool anymore.
It was becoming a compass.
And it pointed toward Sofia.
⸻
The breakthrough came from a burner phone.
Recovered from Marco's last courier drop.
Inside were encrypted messages—coded references to locations, dates, and meetings.
One kept repeating.
"The Widow's Court. June 18th."
It was a known meeting place for unaffiliated families. Neutral territory.
But only the dead left that place untouched.
Luciano and Aria planned carefully.
Aria would go in disguised, with Nico and two of her loyal guards.
Luciano would wait two blocks out with reinforcements.
If Sofia was truly coming in person—they'd have one shot.
⸻
June 18th arrived like thunder.
The warehouse was cold, vast, and empty—lit only by weak overhead lights.
Aria stood in the center, cloaked in black.
Footsteps echoed from the far end.
She turned.
And froze.
Sofia Romano stepped from the shadows.
Older. Harsher. Beautiful in a way that felt deadly.
Her silver hair was swept back, her mouth painted in the shade of fresh blood.
But her eyes?
They were the mirror of Aria's.
Cruel. Knowing. Patient.
"Ariabella," Sofia said, smiling. "You wear power better than your mother ever did."
Aria didn't speak.
Sofia continued, circling her like a serpent. "You don't understand what I'm trying to do. You think this is about revenge."
"Isn't it?" Aria asked, voice sharp.
"No," Sofia said. "It's about correction. Balance. The families have rotted from within. I'm cutting out the disease."
Aria narrowed her eyes. "And you think you're the cure?"
Sofia tilted her head. "I think I'm the only one with the stomach to do what must be done. You're here because I want you to join me."
That made Aria laugh.
Dark and bitter.
"You tried to kill me."
"I tried to free you," Sofia said. "From your father. From Luciano. From their chains."
Aria stepped closer.
"You sent men to burn me alive."
Sofia didn't blink. "And still, you rose. Just like I did."
⸻
The conversation snapped like a whip.
Guards moved behind Sofia.
Nico shifted beside Aria.
Luciano's voice crackled in her earpiece. "We have five seconds before they move."
Sofia smiled, as if she heard it.
"This world will burn," she whispered. "But you still have a choice. Rule beside me… or die with them."
Aria stared at her aunt.
Saw her own ambition reflected back, twisted and poisoned.
"I already made my choice," she said coldly.
Then she lifted her gun.
And chaos exploded.
⸻
Gunfire erupted across the warehouse.
But Aria wasn't aiming for Sofia.
She fired at the beam overhead, bringing metal crashing down between them—forcing a split.
As she escaped through the smoke with Nico, Sofia's voice rang behind her, laughing.
"I'll see you soon, my darling queen!"