The photo lay crumpled on the floor like a death threat. “She was never yours to keep.” The red ink screamed across Aria’s old waitress photo, a cruel reminder of how fragile their hard-won peace truly was. Aria stood frozen on the penthouse balcony, the New York night wind whipping her chestnut hair as Dante crushed the paper in his fist, his gray eyes blazing with lethal fury.
“Gregorio Conti,” Dante growled, the name like venom on his tongue. “My old mentor. The man who taught me everything and then disappeared after my father’s death. I thought he was gone forever.”
Aria’s heart hammered against her ribs. She had come so far — from the trembling, pitiful girl who signed the contract in tears to the queen who stood beside Dante as an equal. But this new threat felt personal, like it w
