The old family estate seemed to hold its breath as the man stepped fully into the dim light of the study. Aria’s world tilted violently. The stranger’s face — sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes so similar to Dante’s — sent ice through her veins. This was no ordinary consortium leader. This was Dante’s father, the man everyone had believed dead for years.
“Impossible,” Dante growled, his gun steady, but his voice edged with raw shock. He moved instinctively in front of Aria, shielding her with his body. “You died. I watched them bury you.”
The older man smiled coldly, a mirror of Dante’s own ruthless expression. “Death is a useful tool when you need to disappear and regain power from the shadows. You were always too emotional, son. Too attached to this girl.”
Aria’s heart pounded so hard
