Luca Romano's office was heavy with smoke. The curtains were drawn, the only light coming from the lamp on his desk. A glass of whiskey sat half-empty beside him, and between his fingers burned a cigar that filled the room with the sharp smell of tobacco. His face was hard, his dark eyes empty as if he was somewhere far away.
The door opened without knocking.
Mattheo Romano stepped in. He looked almost like Luca at first glance—the same strong jaw, the same sharp Romano features. But his presence was different. Where Luca's aura carried violence and danger, Mattheo's carried restraint. He wasn't dressed like his brothers, no sharp suits or weapons hanging off his belt. He carried himself like a man who didn't belong in this world, even though blood had tied him to it.
"I had to come back when I heard what you did to Viet," Mattheo said, his voice rough with anger.
Luca didn't even look at him. He drew in smoke, blew it out, and reached for his whiskey.
"Luca." Mattheo's tone hardened. "Don't forget—Viet is our baby brother. He's twenty-one, for God's sake."
At the mention of Viet, Luca finally raised his head. Viet, the youngest Romano, had always been reckless. He wanted power, wanted to prove he wasn't just "the baby." He followed Luca into the business, eager to be taken seriously. But Viet's hunger for recognition made him sloppy. And Luca had punished him for it.
"Him being young doesn't make him stupid, right?" Luca asked coldly.
Mattheo clenched his jaw. "All this—for a girl?" He shook his head in disbelief.
The word "girl" seemed to snap something inside Luca. His hand slammed against the desk, the glass rattling violently. His voice rose, harsh and sharp.
"She's not just a girl! She's my woman. No one touches her. No one touches us—except me!"
Mattheo stared at him, almost shocked at the fire in his brother's eyes. Luca's obsession was consuming him.
"You're letting Viet go," Mattheo said firmly. "You're not going to kill him."
Luca let out a laugh—short, bitter, humorless. He leaned back in his chair, cigar between his fingers, eyes fixed on Mattheo.
"Kill him?" Luca repeated. "You think I'd kill him? What am I, Mattheo? A monster?" His laugh deepened, colder this time. "Well, yes. I am. And nothing's going to change that."
Mattheo took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Luca… you're not a monster. You never were."
Luca's expression shifted, his lips curling into something bitter. "Says the man who has killed thousands of men." His tone grew darker, almost mocking. "I enjoy it, Mattheo. Their screaming. The blood. The silence when it's done. Don't fool yourself—I am exactly what they say I am."
"Luca…"
"Get out," Luca cut him off sharply.
Mattheo stayed where he was.
"I said get the fuck out!" Luca roared, his voice filling the room.
Mattheo studied him for a moment longer, his heart heavy, then turned and walked out.
The hallway was cooler, quieter. Mattheo's steps echoed as he moved, thoughts crashing against each other. He wasn't like Luca. And he wasn't like Viet either.
Mattheo had chosen a different road. He didn't want blood, didn't want the empire, didn't want to rule through fear. That was why he'd left years ago, choosing medicine instead. While Luca built an empire and Viet threw himself into danger to prove himself, Mattheo became a doctor. He wanted to save lives, not take them. That was his rebellion against the Romano name.
But no matter how far he ran, his family always pulled him back. He couldn't ignore them, couldn't cut the chain completely. Not when Luca was like this. Not when Viet was caught in the fire too.
As he walked, Mattheo stopped. His eyes caught a figure in the corner.
A girl.
She sat on a small bench, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. Blonde hair fell around her face, her body curled into itself as if she was trying to vanish. When she lifted her head and noticed him, her eyes went wide. Fear filled them instantly. She shrank back, pressing against the wall.
It was her.
Mia.
Mattheo slowed his steps, careful not to frighten her more. "No, no," he said softly, raising his hands a little, "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm harmless."
Mia stared at him, her breath quick. He looked like Luca—he had the same bone structure, the same dark hair—but there was something different. He didn't carry the same dangerous weight.
Mattheo crouched slightly, lowering himself so he wasn't towering over her. "Hi. I'm Mattheo. Luca's younger brother." He gave her a small smile and extended his hand.
Mia didn't take it. Her whole body was stiff, her eyes locked on him like she was waiting for him to strike.
Mattheo noticed. He picked up a fork sitting beside her plate, gently took her hand, and placed the fork in her palm.
"If I try to hurt you," he said quietly, meeting her eyes, "defend yourself with this."
Mia blinked, confused, her hand trembling around the fork.
"What's your name?" Mattheo asked.
"Mi… Mia," she whispered.
He repeated it softly, as if testing the sound. For a second his face changed, something flickering in his eyes. The name reminded him of someone he had failed to protect long ago. He pushed it away quickly.
"That's a beautiful name," he said gently.
Mia lowered her gaze, and that's when Mattheo saw the marks on her wrist. His stomach twisted. He reached forward carefully, his voice low.
"Luca did this to you?"
Her eyes filled with fear. She hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Mattheo cursed under his breath, anger flashing across his face. "Did you get treated?"
She nodded quickly, still tense.
"Can I see it?" he asked, voice calm, careful.
She shook her head immediately. She didn't trust him—not yet. Not when he carried the same blood as Luca.
Mattheo gave her a soft smile. "I told you—I'm harmless. And if I try anything, you've got the fork."
Mia looked at him suspiciously. Why would he care? Why would any of Luca's brothers care?
Mattheo reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Look. I'm not lying. I'm a doctor. If you don't believe me, here."
Mia took it. Her hands shook as she read it.
Dr. Mattheo Romano. Registered Physician. Chicago University.
She looked back at him, confused but calmer than before.
"See?" he said softly. "I only want to help."
After a pause, Mia lifted her sleeve slightly, showing him the bruises and cuts. Mattheo's jaw tightened. The anger in him wasn't just for Luca—it was for this whole world that had dragged someone as fragile as her into its cage.
"Your wounds need proper care," he said. "I'll come back tomorrow. I'll bring medicine."
Mia gave the smallest nod.
Mattheo smiled at her, gentle and genuine. "Goodbye, Mia. I'll see you soon." He stood, gave her a wave, and walked away.
Mia held the fork tighter in her hand. For the first time in a long time, something stirred inside her.
It wasn't trust, not fully. But it was close.
It was hope.