Chapter 1
1998 Words
The plane touched down in New York just as the evening sky dissolved into bruised shades of grey and fading gold.
Alessia Romano pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, unmoving. Below her, Manhattan stretched out like a glittering, jagged scar—a city she had tried and failed to bury in a shallow grave. The thousands of flickering lights didn't feel welcoming; they felt like a warning.
Five years.
Five years since she had fled this city with nothing but a shattered heart, a burning sense of betrayal, and a secret that grew heavier with every passing mile.
Around her, the cabin came alive with the mundane, tired rhythms of arrival. Seatbelts clicked open. Overhead bins banged. Passengers laughed, complaining about the humidity or the traffic awaiting them on the Grand Central. Life, unbothered and ordinary, resumed its pace.
Alessia remained frozen.
Her fingers tightened against the leather armrest, her knuckles turning white as the past began to rattle violently against the doors she’d spent half a decade locking shut.
A soft, sleepy tug at her sleeve broke the spell.
“Mama…”
The armour Alessia had worn since boarding the flight shattered instantly. She turned, her features softening as she looked down at the small girl beside her. Ava was blinking up at her, a tumble of dark, unruly curls falling across her forehead. Her tiny hand was firmly anchored to Alessia’s coat.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Alessia whispered, her voice a fragile contrast to the coldness in her chest.
“Are we there?”
Alessia stared into her daughter's eyes—eyes that were a terrifyingly familiar shade of blue-grey—and felt a phantom ache in her ribs. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
“Yes"
Gathering Ava into her arms, Alessia stood. The little girl buried her face into the crook of Alessia's neck, instinctively absorbing the tension radiating off her mother. To the rest of the passengers filtering off the jet bridge, they were just a young, striking mother and her child. No one looking at Alessia’s tailored coat or poised posture could guess she was stepping directly into the eye of a hurricane.
The airport air hit her like a slap—sharp, damp, and smelling of jet fuel and asphalt.
Waiting at the curb of the arrivals terminal was a sleek, black SUV with tinted windows. Standing beside the rear door was Maria, her family's loyal housekeeper, who straightened the moment Alessia’s heels clicked against the concrete.
“Miss Romano,” Maria breathed, her professional mask slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal raw, aching relief.
“Maria,” Alessia replied, offering a tight, grateful nod.
For a heartbeat, a decade of history hung between them—the deaths, the silence, the sudden disappearance. But Maria’s eyes quickly drifted down to the bundle in Alessia’s arms, widening in a mixture of awe and immediate recognition.
“Oh my goodness…” the older woman whispered, “She’s beautiful.”
Ava shifted, peeking out from behind Alessia’s shoulder with cautious, intelligent eyes.
“This is Maria, Ava,” Alessia said softly, setting her daughter on her feet. “She’s going to help us.”
Maria knelt, a warm, tremulous smile on her face. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Ava,” the little girl murmured, gripping Alessia’s hand.
The name seemed to strike a chord in Maria. Her gaze swept over Ava’s face, tracing the high cheekbones, the slight dimple, and the piercing eyes. “It suits you perfectly. You look so much like—”
Maria choked on the rest of the sentence, cutting herself off as she caught Alessia’s warning stare. The silence that followed was heavy enough to suffocate.
She looks so much like him.
Alessia didn’t need the words spoken aloud. She lived with the ghost of Damien De Luca every time she looked at her daughter.
Clearing her throat, Maria quickly opened the SUV door. “Everything is ready, Miss Romano. The townhouse has been prepared. Security is in place.”
“Good.” Alessia knelt in front of Ava, her hands steady as she zipped up the little girl’s winter coat. “I have to stop somewhere first, Ava. Business.”
Ava’s small brow furrowed. “Work?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll come back?” It was a simple question, but it carried the weight of a child who had only ever had one constant in her life.
Alessia gently brushed a stray curl behind Ava’s ear, her heart squeezing. “Always. I promise.”
Ava studied her mother’s face, finding whatever reassurance she needed, and let Maria guide her into the car. Alessia watched the door click shut, lingering for just a second too long. Then, she turned toward the waiting yellow cab behind them.
The softness vanished. Her jaw set, her eyes going dead and flat.
The mother was gone. The Romano heir had returned.
The Romano Corporation tower pierced the Manhattan skyline like an obelisk of glass and stolen power. Alessia watched its glittering facade through the taxi window, her own reflection staring back at her, superimposed over the neon veins of the city.
This tower had been built on her grandfather's sweat and her father's blood. It was supposed to be her brother's legacy. Now, it was a mausoleum. Her parents, her brother... all gone. Murdered while she was a world away. She hadn't been allowed to attend the funeral. She hadn't gotten to throw dirt on their coffins.
Her hand curled into a tight fist in her lap, her fingernails biting into her palms. The grief had long since burned out, leaving behind a cold, toxic residue. And it had only one target.
The De Lucas.
The taxi screeched to a halt. Alessia stepped out onto the rain-slicked pavement. The moment her stilettos hit the marble floor of the grand lobby, she felt the atmosphere shift. Whispers broke out like a sudden draft of wind. Heads turned. Security guards froze. The ghost had walked through the front door.
But Alessia kept her chin high, ignoring the eyes boring into her back. The lobby still smelled of expensive wax and white lilies. The gold fixtures still gleamed. Everything looked untouched, yet completely corrupted.
Then, a figure cut through the crowd, blocking her path to the elevators.
Isabella De Luca.
Damien’s younger sister stood like a sentinel, her posture rigid, her designer heels clicking sharply as she closed the distance. Her face was twisted into a mask of pure hostility.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here,” Isabella spat, her voice cutting through the ambient noise of the lobby.
Alessia stopped, looking down her nose at the girl she used to sneak out of school with. A flash of memory hit her—flooding back with agonizing clarity.
Rain. A private hangar. Isabella chased her through the downpour, tears streaming down her face.
“Alessia, wait! Please!”
“Leave me alone!” Alessia had screamed back then, her heart bleeding out in her chest. “Stay away from me! All of you!”
“Just listen to my brother—!”
“Your brother used me! He destroyed my family!”
“You disappear for five years,” Isabella’s bitter voice snapped Alessia back to the present. “You let everyone think you're dead, and then you just stroll back in here like you didn't ruin everything?”
Alessia’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You hurt him more than you’ll ever know, Alessia.”
“And your family slaughtered mine,” Alessia replied, her voice dropping to a deadly, quiet hiss that made the surrounding air feel twenty degrees colder.
Isabella flinched, turning pale. “What are you talking about? That was an accident—”
“My entire family is in the ground, Isabella. And your brother is sitting in my father's chair.” Alessia took a predatory step forward. “I think your family is capable of anything.”
The tension in the lobby stretched to a breaking point, a wire pulled too tight—
And then, the elevator chimes echoed.
The doors slid open, and the world ground to a sudden, violent halt.
Alessia felt his presence before she even looked. It was a visceral, heavy pull in her gut that she had never been able to break.
Damien De Luca stepped out into the lobby.
Five years had stripped away every ounce of the boy she had loved. The boy who used to catch her when she jumped the school fence was gone. In his place stood a monolith. He was broader, sharper, his jawline like carved granite. He wore a bespoke black suit that fit him like armour, radiating an aura of absolute, terrifying control.
But it was his eyes that locked her in place. Blue-grey. Like a stormy sea.
Damien’s gaze found hers instantly, cutting through the crowd like a knife. He stopped dead in his tracks. For a terrible, breathless second, the ruthless Don vanished, replaced by a man looking at a miracle—or a curse. Then, his expression hardened into stone.
Beside him, a woman stepped out of the elevator. Camilla Moretti. Elegant, striking, and possessively sliding her hand up Damien’s arm. She scanned the tense standoff, a faint, amused smirk playing on her lips.
“Well,” Camilla purred lightly, breaking the silence. “This is an unexpected reunion.”
Neither Damien nor Alessia looked at her. Their eyes were locked in a silent, violent war.
Damien moved forward slowly, his boots thudding against the marble. Each step felt like a countdown. He stopped a mere two feet away, commanding the space between them.
“You came back,” he said.
His voice had changed. It was lower now, rougher, like gravel shifting under water. It vibrated straight through Alessia's skin.
Alessia lifted her chin, refusing to let him see the way her pulse was hammering against her ribs. “Unfortunately for you.”
A faint, humourless tilt touched the corner of Damien’s mouth. “There she is.”
The words were quiet, meant only for her. In that single phrase, five years of anger, unresolved passion, and buried agony flared to life. Camilla tightened her grip on his arm, a subtle claim of ownership. Alessia saw it, and a hot flash of pure, irrational jealousy flared in her chest. She hated herself for it.
Damien’s eyes slowly traced the lines of her face as if ensuring she wasn't a hallucination. “You look different.”
“So do you,” she shot back. “Power seems to suit you. Or is it just the blood?”
His jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek. “You disappeared without a word, Alessia. You left me with the wreckage.”
Alessia let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, her eyes flashing with dangerous fire. “You lost the right to demand explanations from me the night you betrayed my trust, Damien.”
“There is a lot you don't understand about that night,” he growled, stepping closer, overriding her personal space.
“And you still lie like it’s second nature.”
The space between them practically crackled with electricity. The years collapsed into nothing. The hatred was there, vibrant and raw, but beneath it lay the terrifying truth, neither of them wanted to admit:
The fire hadn't gone out. It had just been waiting for a spark.
- Writer
