Episode8:The House She Builds
990 Words
Power wasn’t given.
It was taken.
In fire. In blood. In silence.
Aria Moretti stood before a long mahogany table in a dimly lit hall—one that used to host her father’s private meetings. Tonight, it was hers. The room smelled of cigars, aged wood, and old secrets.
Four people sat before her. Men who once served Lorenzo Moretti. Now retired. Broken. Disloyal.
One of them—Leonardo Greco—had tried to sell her location to Marco Santori two nights ago. Aria knew. She’d seen the message herself.
But she gave him a choice.
And he showed up anyway.
Aria didn’t raise her voice.
She just looked at them, her tone calm, her presence commanding.
“This is the last meeting I’ll call where I ask for loyalty. After tonight, you’re either with me… or beneath me.”
Leonardo scoffed, adjusting the gold watch on his thick wrist. “You sound just like your father.”
“No,” she said. “He gave second chances.”
With a sharp nod to her left, Damien stepped from the shadows and fired one shot—clean, straight through Leonardo’s skull.
The others flinched.
Aria didn’t blink.
His body hit the table with a thud.
Blood pooled around the cuff of his designer sleeve.
She turned to the remaining three. “Clean it up. Then swear your loyalty. Or join him.”
One by one, they nodded. Pale. Shaken. Sworn.
The Moretti name had fallen.
But Aria had just risen.
---
Later that night, she stood alone in her father’s wine cellar, running her fingers over labels from decades ago. Dust. Silence. Legacy.
Damien appeared at the door. “You sure about what you did?”
“He would’ve betrayed me again,” she said. “Better a bullet now than a knife in my back later.”
“You’re colder than I expected.”
“Does that scare you?”
He walked up behind her, pressed his mouth to her neck. “No. It turns me on.”
She smirked, but something in her chest felt heavy. Different.
“Malik will come back,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“He offered me a crown, Damien. But it wasn’t one I wanted.”
“What do you want?”
She turned, looked him dead in the eyes.
“My own kingdom.”
---
The next day, whispers spread through the city like wildfire.
“Aria Moretti executed Leonardo Greco.”
“She’s building her own family.”
“The Black Queen is no longer in mourning.”
But it wasn’t just talk.
She made moves.
Hired new blood—loyalists from Cuba, Romania, and South Africa. Fighters. Hackers. Women, too. The ones the other families never trusted. Aria did.
She gave them purpose.
Not as soldiers.
As founders.
They met in a warehouse outside the city. High walls. Metal doors. A place no one would suspect.
She stood before them in leather and lace, power in every breath.
“I’m not your boss,” she said. “I’m your weapon. You point me at our enemies—and I won’t miss.”
They cheered.
Damien watched from the back, arms folded, a dark pride in his eyes.
She wasn’t just winning.
She was redefining the game.
---
But power came with a price.
That night, Aria received a package.
Wrapped in black paper. No note.
Inside: a single gold bullet.
Etched with her name.
She didn’t panic. She didn’t flinch.
She simply closed the box and set it on her nightstand like a bedtime reminder: they were afraid.
---
The next morning, betrayal found her.
It came from the last place she expected.
Isabella Cardenas.
They met in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. Glass walls. Moonlight.
Aria wore black again. Always black. Like mourning had become part of her blood.
Isabella poured champagne, her smile syrupy sweet.
“You’re causing quite the stir,” she said. “Even Malik’s starting to notice.”
“Good,” Aria replied. “That means I’m not boring.”
They clinked glasses. Tension shimmered between them.
“I always thought we could be something,” Isabella said. “Partners. Maybe more.”
Aria sipped. “And I always knew you’d try to f**k me or kill me. I just wasn’t sure which would come first.”
Isabella grinned. “Why not both?”
Then her eyes darkened. “You shouldn’t have killed Leonardo.”
“He betrayed me.”
“So did you,” Isabella said softly. “You kissed me… then chose Damien.”
Aria’s blood turned to ice.
“That’s what this is about?”
Isabella stepped closer. “No. This is about reminding you that queens don’t survive alone.”
Then she pressed something into Aria’s palm.
A chip.
Encrypted.
“Malik’s next move,” Isabella said. “Intercept it. Or he’ll bury you before your kingdom is built.”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “Why are you helping me?”
Isabella leaned in, brushed her lips across Aria’s ear.
“Because if anyone’s going to destroy you… it’s me.”
Then she was gone.
---
Back at the penthouse, Aria dropped the chip onto Damien’s desk.
“Decrypt this.”
He raised a brow. “From your ex?”
“She’s not my ex. She’s a warning in lipstick.”
Minutes later, code scrolled across the screen.
Then—video.
A recording.
Malik. Standing in front of a warehouse. Surrounded by crates.
Crates of weapons. Ammunition. Human cargo.
“This is his next move,” Damien muttered. “He’s not playing. He’s declaring war.”
Aria stared at the screen, rage blooming in her gut.
“He thinks this is still his game.”
Damien looked at her. “So what now?”
She picked up her gun, loaded it.
“Now?” she said, stepping into her heels. “Now we burn the whole f*****g board.”
- Writer
