We met at The Silk Room—one of my underground clubs built in New Jersey, styled like a 1920s speakeasy, accessible only through fingerprint and eye scan. The walls were laced with velvet, lit in blood-red and gold. Smoke curled lazily in the dimly lit corners, where deals were whispered and fates sealed.
Matteo, my right-hand man, walked beside me, silent.
Too silent.
He wasn't his usual chatty self.
I knew something was wrong.
"What is it?" I asked the moment the steel door slid shut behind us.
He hesitated. Eyes lowered. Then—
"The snake is back in town."
I turned to face him. My jaw tightened. My knuckles whitened.
"Vittoris."
He nodded.
"Landed this morning. Private jet. No customs, no radar trail. We only know 'cause we got a mole at the strip."
For a moment, my world stopped spinning.
Vittoris.
The name alone made my blood boil.
He wasn't just a rival.
He was the devil who tried to burn my empire down five years ago., sold out my men, and orchestrated a massacre under the guise of peace.
And worse—he was the man who swore to take everything from me. Including the woman I loved.
Born in Naples but raised in blood, Vittoris Salerno wasn't just a rival—he was a legacy. The son of the infamous Giovanni Salerno who once controlled half of Europe's underground trade. But where Giovanni ruled with honor among thieves, Vittoris ruled with madness, betrayal, and zero code.
He ran the Sable Syndicate, a shadow empire stretching from South America to Dubai. Trafficking arms, harvesting secrets, blackmailing presidents. But his specialty? Turning loyalty into poison.
He once sat beside me at the round table of power. We toasted victories with the same whiskey. Swore blood oaths. But it was all a game to him. Vittoris betrayed me, slaughtered men I called brothers, and left my name burning on the streets of Sicily.
And now—
He was back.
---
Luca's POV:
"Where is he now?" I asked, every nerve in my body tightening.
"Downtown Manhattan. Penthouse suite. Same building you bought out last year."
I let out a cold, bitter laugh.
The audacity.
"The bastard thinks he can come back and spit in your face," Matteo added.
"He's not here to spit," I said, voice low and venomous.
"He's here to bleed."
But Matteo still looked uneasy.
"There's something else," he said cautiously.
"moga is working for him"
That caught my attention.
"Moga?.. she has always seeked for revenge and now she's working for my greatest rival. This is going to be dangerously fun."
-----
Back in Manhattan, inside the towering glass penthouse surrounded by luxury and armed shadows, Vittoris stood before the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city blink beneath him like a grid of prey.
His build was leaner now, more angular. His face sharper, scarred at the chin. His suit black as midnight, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal the tattoo of a coiled serpent stretching across his chest.
Behind him, Moga knelt—blood on her sleeve, her jaw bruised from her failed escape.
"I trained you as my daughter," Vittoris said, voice calm like a silk knife, "but you're becoming too weak."
Moga lowered her eyes. "I hesitated… I thought—"
"You thought?" he scoffed, turning slowly. "You were trained to act, not think."
Her lips trembled. "It wasn't the right time. Too many eyes. Too much risk."
Vittoris moved in front of her, bent down, and gripped her chin. His eyes bore into hers. Cold. Calculating.
"You used to kill without blinking. You were my Black Widow. Now you tremble before Luca's woman like a schoolgirl."
"I won't fail again," she whispered.
"You better not," he said, releasing her with a shove. "Because next time, I won't need to punish you. I'll replace you."
Moga's jaw tightened, her pride wounded—but her eyes burned with something else: obsession. Maybe with proving herself. Maybe with revenge. Maybe even something twisted toward Luca.
"Give me one more chance," she said. "I'll finish what I started."
Vittoris turned away, poured himself a drink. His fingers drummed along the glass.
"She's his weakness," he said at last. "Use it. Bleed him where it hurts the most."
Then he smirked. "We don't need to destroy Luca's empire."
"We need to make him watch it crumble… through her."
-------
Luca sat alone in the dim-lit study of his penthouse, the fire from the fireplace flickering softly, casting shadows on the wall. He sat on the couch admiring rose's picture on the wall. Immediately a call came.
"Private Caller."
Only one man used that line.
His father—Don Dubious moretti.
Luca inhaled deeply and answered, placing the phone slowly to his ear.
"Luca," came the voice—deep, hoarse, soaked in authority and coldness.
"I've been hearing whispers I shouldn't be hearing. Tell me it's a lie."
Luca's jaw clenched. "What lie?"
"That my son—my only blood—is throwing away everything we've built... for a woman." Dubious spat the word like venom.
"You… fell in love? Is that what I'm hearing, boy?"
Luca stayed silent.
"Do you think this is a goddamn romance novel?" Dubious growled. "Do you think you were born into this world to chase skirts and fall in love? Did I raise you to be weak?"
The fire cracked in the background. Luca still said nothing.
"Love is a weapon, Luca!" Dubious roared. "A soft, sweet poison disguised in a woman's touch. Your grandfather fell because of love. Your uncle died because of love. And now you… you dare to open your heart and bring shame to our bloodline?"
Luca's breath hitched, his mind flashing back to Rose's smile, the warmth of her body under his hands, the sound of her laughter—then the image of her crying, blood trailing down her face as he threw her out like trash. His heart twisted again.
"If you continue down this path, Luca…" Dubious warned, voice chilling like ice, "you will not only lose your throne—you will become your enemy's puppet. And if I have to choose between killing my son or watching my empire burn… you already know the answer."
Silence.
Then, softer, darker—
"You were born to lead a mafia, not a fairy tale. So tell me, my son..."
"Have you truly chosen your heart… over your blood?"
---
Will Luca finally break free from his father's chains—or will the sins of blood
demand the sacrifice of his only love?
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