CHAPTER ONE: THE PRINCESS OF THE UNDERWORLD
The night was quiet, but Alessandro Moretti knew peace never lasted long in his world.
From the tall glass windows of his mansion, he looked out over the glowing city lights of New York. The world saw him as a billionaire, a businessman who ruled with power and charm. But in the shadows, everyone knew the truth. Alessandro Moretti was a king not of crowns and castles, but of guns and blood.
Inside, laughter echoed down the long marble hallways. His nine sons were gathered in the living room, arguing over who would get the last slice of pizza. Alessandro's gaze softened. This was what he fought for: his family, his empire, and above all, his little princess.
At just four years old, Isabella Moretti was the heart of the house. She was small and bright-eyed, with a wild laugh that could melt even her father's coldest days. She was his treasure, his jewel, his reason to breathe. And where Isabella went, her twin brother Luca followed like a shadow.
Tonight, the Moretti family was alive with warmth. The brothers....Dante, Matteo, Enzo, Raffaele, Marco, Nico, Stefano, Lorenzo, and Giulio were scattered across the room, their voices overlapping in chaos.
"Give it to me, Enzo!" Luca shouted, clinging to a toy car.
Enzo, who was sixteen and cocky, grinned. "Learn to fight for it, little prince!"
"You're bigger than him, idiot," Dante snapped, grabbing the toy and tossing it back to Luca. "Pick on someone your size."
"Someone my size?" Enzo's dark brows rose. He pointed at Giulio, the tallest at twenty-one. "Fine, I'll fight him instead."
Giulio rolled his eyes, his deep voice calm as always. "You'd lose in two seconds."
Alessandro's lips twitched. These loud, chaotic moments were rare in his world. But even as he smiled, a dark thought tugged at him.
He had enemies. Many of them. And one in particular had grown bolder in recent months: Elijah Donovan.
Alessandro's phone buzzed. He stepped away from the laughter, answering in a low, controlled voice.
"Speak."
"It's Elijah," his underboss said. "He's making moves near the docks. Our shipments aren't safe."
Alessandro's jaw tightened. Elijah Donovan, once a partner, had turned into his greatest rival. The man had been hunting for a way to cripple his empire for years. But if Elijah thought Alessandro Moretti was weak, he was a fool.
"Double security at every port," Alessandro ordered. "And keep your eyes on his men. If they take one wrong step, I want to know."
"Understood, boss."
Alessandro ended the call, slipping the phone into his pocket. He glanced back at his children. Isabella was perched on Matteo's shoulders, giggling as if the world outside their gates wasn't built on violence and betrayal.
He told himself it would stay that way. He promised her safety with every beat of his heart.
But promises are fragile things in a world built on blood.
Dinner was noisy, as it always was with the Morettis. Nine brothers arguing, Luca whining, Isabella laughing louder than all of them, Alessandro shaking his head as if he wasn't secretly enjoying it.
"Papa!" Isabella yelled from her seat, her little hand waving a breadstick in the air. "Luca says he's faster than me. He's not!"
Luca, sitting beside her, crossed his arms. "I am faster."
"Not true!" Isabella pouted. "I beat you in the garden today!"
Matteo smirked. "She's telling the truth. I timed them. Bella won by two seconds."
"Two seconds isn't fair!" Luca shouted.
"Two seconds is two seconds," Nico teased, ruffling Isabella's hair.
She grinned at her brothers, her dark curls bouncing. "See? I'm the fastest princess!"
"Princess, yes," Dante muttered, stealing her breadstick, "fastest? We'll see."
Alessandro watched quietly, arms crossed over his chest. Moments like this kept him grounded. In this house, his children were not soldiers or heirs. They were just kids. But deep down, he knew innocence could not last forever.
That night, after the house fell quiet, Alessandro met privately with his eldest son, Giulio, in his office.
"You've been watching Elijah's movements?" Alessandro asked.
Giulio nodded, his expression serious. "He's restless. He's been gathering men. I think he's planning something big."
"Do we know when?"
"No. But he's desperate. He's lost two deals already, and you know men like him, Papa. Desperate men are dangerous."
Alessandro stared at the glass of whiskey in his hand, his jaw tight. "Then we prepare."
Giulio hesitated before speaking again. "Papa… do you think he'd try to hurt us through Isabella? Through Luca?"
For a long moment, Alessandro said nothing. Then his voice came out cold and sharp. "He wouldn't dare."
But as the words left his mouth, a strange unease settled over him.
Hours later, while the family slept, shadows moved outside the mansion gates. Two black vans rolled to a silent stop under the cover of darkness. Inside, Elijah's men checked their weapons, their faces masked.
In Isabella's bedroom, she dreamed of running barefoot through the garden, Luca chasing her, their laughter carrying through the air. She didn't hear the footsteps in the hall.
Luca stirred in the bed across from hers when the door creaked open. He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
"Papa?" he whispered.
The answer came in a low hiss. "Quiet, boy."
A hand clamped over Luca's mouth.
Isabella woke to the muffled sounds of struggle. Her small body froze for one terrible second, then she screamed... a sharp, piercing sound that cut through the silence of the night.
Down the hall, Alessandro shot up in bed. So did the brothers, their rooms bursting into chaos.
"Dante, Enzo, with me!" Giulio shouted, grabbing the gun from his nightstand.
They charged into the hall, but by the time they reached Isabella's room, the window was open, the curtains whipping in the wind.
The little princess was gone.
Alessandro stood in the doorway, his face pale but burning with fury. He looked down at the single small teddy bear on Isabella's bed, the one she never slept without.
He picked it up slowly, his knuckles white, his voice breaking as he spoke.
"Find them," he whispered to Giulio, his tone deadly calm. "Find them all."
And then he looked out the open window, into the dark night where his daughter had vanished, and made a silent promise.
No matter how much blood it cost, he would burn the world to bring her back.