Scarlet Promise

Chapter 10: The Devil’s Discontent

Enrico Deluca

Enrico’s mind churned in the shadows of the suite, He was far away from the place he once called home.his thoughts like a storm building with each passing second. The last few days had been nothing short of a nightmare for him. The alliance between the Volkovs and DeLucas was supposed to be a catastrophe, a battle for dominance that would leave both families crippled. But now, to his horror, it was transforming into something else—a union, a marriage. A bridge between their empires rather than a chasm.

Sitting on the edge of the grand window, overlooking the quiet streets of southern France, Enrico tried to steady his nerves. The scotch in his glass had long since been abandoned, its golden hue mocking him. Viktor had made his move, securing not just the future of his family but a dangerous level of power with that marriage proposal. And Isabella… she was a firestorm in human form, something far more dangerous than Enrico had anticipated.

why did she accept?

What did she want?

The image of Viktor standing before him, calm and confident, agreeing to the marriage with a look of quiet triumph, still burned in his mind. Viktor had always been the golden child—the face of the DeLuca family, unshaken by the chaos that surrounded them, even from birth Sergio had always been proud of Viktor so much so that he wasted no time in naming him his heir before he even turned 14years of age. To see him make this decision, to give up his freedom for the likes of Isabella Volkov, was unfathomable.

Enrico leaned back into his chair, his fingers tight against his temples as he fought to quell the fury rising within him. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. The Volkovs had always been his enemies. He’d planned everything carefully, setting the stage for an all-out war. The assassination attempt on Dante Volkov had been his masterpiece, a move that should have set both families on a collision course. Instead, the Volkovs had done the unthinkable—reached out for peace.

Damn Lorenzo that old fool,How he was still alive at the age of 78 was a mystery.

And that damn woman… Isabella.

Her reputation as a cold, calculating leader in the underworld was well known. She had always played the game with such precision that even the most seasoned criminals feared crossing her. But this—this sudden compliance with Viktor’s proposal—made no sense. She wasn’t someone who would agree to anything unless it was to her advantage. Enrico was certain of it. There had to be an angle, a hidden agenda behind her decision to accept. But what?

“She’s playing something,” Enrico muttered to himself, the words feeling bitter as they escaped his lips. He wasn’t about to let her outmaneuver him, not after everything he had sacrificed.He was supposed to be returning home , rebuilding the shackles of what was left of the Deluca family’s name but no he was here hiding out from that same family , his family, his nephew.

The room felt stifling as he rose to his feet, pacing in agitation. The sound of his footsteps was the only thing that accompanied his thoughts—thoughts that rapidly darkened. Sergio , his older brother, was right to be furious when he learned how close Enrico had come to triggering a war. But that was nothing compared to the storm that awaited him if Sergio ever discovered the failure of his latest scheme.The love his brother had for family will always be his weakness,but for how long would he tolerate him.

The reality of it hit Enrico hard: the consequences of his actions would be severe. His brother wasn’t the type to tolerate Betrayal . Sergio had always been methodical, cold, and relentless when it came to loyalty and power. A single misstep, and Enrico would be finished.This was why their father had chosen Sergio his younger brother over him.

Enrico’s lips curled into a thin, calculated smile. Let Sergio come. Enrico had been underestimated too many times in his life. His mistakes were not failures—they were stepping stones, lessons learned in the school of survival. And Enrico had learned well. He was a man who played the long game, and this marriage between Viktor and Isabella was just another piece on the board.

The two so call heirs were time bombs always on the edge to explode.

He would find a way to break them, to shatter this fragile alliance that had been so hastily formed. A marriage was only as strong as the trust between its parties, and Enrico knew trust in the world of crime was a rare commodity. All he needed was the right moment. A whisper here. A rumor there. The families were already teetering on the edge, and one nudge in the right direction would send them toppling into chaos.

He paced toward the window, staring down at the Parisian streets below as if seeking answers in the night.All he wanted was what was stolen from him , his birthright, his Familia .

His mind raced through the possibilities—alliances to be forged, tensions to be exploited. The DeLucas and Volkovs thought they had the upper hand, but Enrico had always been better at operating in the shadows. He was the one who had manipulated their downfall in the past, and he would do it again.

His fingers brushed the cool glass of the window, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. “Enjoy your peace while it lasts, Nephew ,” Enrico whispered, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “It won’t be long before everything you’ve built crumbles around you.”

As the moonlight stretched across the room, casting long, twisted shadows, Enrico’s smile deepened, a glimmer of madness in his eyes. He wasn’t finished. Far from it. He would dismantle the union between the Volkovs and DeLucas, turn it into a weapon—his weapon. All in due time.

The devil was patient. And when the time came, Enrico would strike.