Chapter 1

• Alessia’s POV
• I was never meant to return home like this.
• Not with a forced marriage waiting for me. Not with a name that carried more weight in death than it ever did in life. And certainly not with a loaded gun strapped to my thigh, ready to spill blood if necessary.
• My fate was sealed.
• The moment I stepped off the plane, I felt it, eyes watching. The air in New York felt suffocating with something unspoken, something darker than the city’s usual filth. My instincts, powered by years of training, screamed that something wasn’t right. But I didn’t care.
• I had waited too long for this.
• Six years ago, my father had sent me away under mysterious circumstances, telling me to finish school, to build a future for myself. Then he cut off all contact except for the occasional email, always vague, always distant.
• And then… silence.
• I clenched my jaw, gripping the handle of my suitcase as I stepped into the arrivals terminal. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it. Right now, there was only one priority, finding my father.
• Or at least, what was left of him.
• “Miss Alessia? Hello? Miss Alessia!"
• A voice called out behind me, sharp and persistent. I kept walking.
• Footsteps followed.
• I adjusted the weight of my bag and slid my hand under my jacket, fingers brushing against the cold metal. If whoever was tailing me thought I was an easy target, they were about to learn otherwise.
• "Miss Alessia, wait! I’m talking to you!"
• Wrong move.
• In one fluid motion, I spinned around, drew my gun, and pointed it straight at his head.
• Gasps erupted from the crowd around us, people stumbling back in panic. The man, a broad-shouldered figure dressed in black froze, his hands flying up in surrender. His eyes flickered with alarm but not fear, which told me two things: he was trained, and he knew exactly who I was.
• "Move an inch, and I blow your freaking brains out," I said, my voice low and steady.
• He swallowed hard, then slowly pointed to a sleek black car parked near the curb.
• "I’m your chauffeur, Miss Romano. I didn’t mean to startle you."
• Chauffeur?
• I narrowed my eyes, keeping the gun trained on him.
• "You could’ve said that instead of following me like some creep," I muttered, but I lowered my weapon, putting it back in my jacket.
• He exhaled, clearly relieved.
• “I called your name the moment you got off the plane, but you wouldn’t stop."
• I clicked my tongue, annoyed at myself for the overreaction. But in my world, caution wasn’t paranoia, it was survival.
• He reached for my suitcase, hesitating slightly before picking it up. I let him.
• Sliding into the backseat, I adjusted my sunglasses and crossed my legs. "Take me to 4 Crescent—"
• "Already on it, ma’am," he interrupted, typing the address into the GPS before I even finished.
• I smirked. Of course.
• If my father had sent this guy, then he had planned for my arrival. Maybe he really was waiting for me. Maybe the silence, the distance, it had all been part of something big.
• I leaned my head back against the seat, staring at the city flashing by through the tinted windows. New York looked the same, yet everything felt different. Colder even.
• I reached for my phone and pulled up my messages.
• Still nothing from my father.
• My fingers tightened around the device. Where the hell are you, Dad?
• I scrolled up to the last message he ever sent me:
• > Alessia, I can’t come with you. Go to school, become the detective you’ve always dreamed of. But don’t look for me. When you’re done, you’ll hear from me. <
• That was six years ago.
• A lifetime.
• I clenched my jaw, shoving the phone back into my pocket. I wasn’t the same girl who had left. Back then, I had dreams of solving crimes, of making a difference in a world that thrived on corruption.
• Now? I knew better.
• Now, I was stepping into a war I hadn’t signed up for, one that ended with me standing at the altar beside Dante Moretti, the biggest notorious mafia lord in New York.
• A bitter laugh my lips. Runaway bride. That’s what they would call me when I will disappear again. Because there was no way in hell I was marrying that murderer.
• I just needed to find out what really happened to my father first. And then?
• I would burn Dante’s world to the ground.
• …..
• The car slowed as we neared the estate, Dad’s big property I hadn’t seen in years. The wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, the crest of my family still etched into the metal.
• It was meant to be a symbol of power. But today, it felt like a tomb.
• The gates opened without hesitation, and the car rolled through the long driveway. The mansion stood tall, untouched by time, yet something in my gut twisted.
• Something was off.
• I reached for my weapon again, my pulse steady but alert. The chauffeur parked and stepped out, opening my door with careful precision. I ignored him, stepping onto the stone pathway and staring up at my home.
• The doors swung open before I even reached them.
• And there, standing in the grand entrance, was a man I never expected to see.
• Dante Moretti. What the hell was he doing in my house?
• He was Tall, Imposing. A predator in a tailored suit.
• His dark eyes locked onto mine, and a slow, amused smirk curved his lips.
• “Welcome home, Alessia."
• What the hell! I felt a cold sweat trickle down my skin.