MasukZara’s POVThe moment I stepped out of the airport, Italy hit me like a memory I had spent years trying to bury even though the air felt different and warmer. Yet dangerously familiar.I stood beside my suitcase for a second longer than necessary, taking in the sounds around me. Italian voices filled the parking lot. Cars honked somewhere in the distance. A little girl laughed as she ran past her exhausted parents.Five years and somehow nothing had changed or maybe everything had.A loud squeal suddenly cut through my thoughts at that moment and I froze.“ZARA!”Before I could react, Sofia slammed into me and I nearly lost my balance.“Sofia!” She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe and then she pulled away only to hug me again.“Oh my God.”She looked me over dramatically.“You actually came.”I laughed.“You invited me.”“You almost didn’t.”Well that was fair, because for months, I had considered cancelling every week, every day and sometimes every hour.But somehow I was
Zara’s POVI hated packing. It wasn't even because it was difficult. But because it gave me too much time to think and thinking was dangerous. Especially when the destination was back to Italy.The suitcase sat open on my bed, half-filled. I’d spent the last hour folding and unfolding the same sweater because my mind refused to focus. Italy even the word alone made my stomach twist.Five years, five whole years since I’d left. Five years since I’d boarded a plane with a broken heart and a secret growing inside me.Five years since I’d convinced myself I would never go back. Yet here I was, packing and preparing.Going anyway all because Sofia had somehow managed to wear down every excuse I came up with.I glanced toward the living room. He was sprawled on the floor coloring dinosaurs. His latest obsession involved drawing every species known to mankind. And several that definitely didn’t exist.“You know,” he announced suddenly.“I think Italy sounds cool.”I laughed.“Do you?”He nod
Matteo's POVFive years later, fear was a useful thing. People underestimated it. They believed power stemmed from money, influence, or even violence.But they were wrong power came from fear. Over the last five years, I have become very good at inspiring it.The man kneeling in front of me knew that better than anyone. Blood dripped from his nose onto the warehouse floor. The smell of gasoline lingered in the air and around us, twenty armed men stood silently. Waiting and nobody dared speak.I stared at the traitor for several seconds before finally looking down at the file in my hand.“You stole from me.”His breathing hitched.“Mr. Ferraro—”“You stole from me.”The warehouse fell silent again but I didn’t yell. I rarely did anymore. People found the quiet version of me far more terrifying still. “It was a mistake.” The gentleman in front of me said.“Three million euros,” I said and his face immediately went pale.I took a step forward.“Five dead soldiers.”“Two intercepted shi
Zara’s POVIf there was one thing I had learned about raising Alberto, it was this: He was incapable of minding his own business.At four years old, most children worried about cartoons and toys and whether vegetables were secretly poisonous.But Alberto worried about everyone, especially me, and unfortunately, he had inherited that trait from exactly the wrong person.The realization hit me every single day, multiple times. Just like it did this morning. I was standing on a small stool trying to reach the top shelf in our kitchen when I heard an outraged gasp behind me.“Mama!”I sighed immediately without turning around.“What?”“Get down.”I blinked and then I looked over my shoulder. Alberto stood in the doorway wearing dinosaur pajamas and a frown. A genuine frown at that. Almost like he’d just discovered me committing a crime.“I’m just getting cereal gentleman.”“You c
Zara’s POV Being a mother was exhausting. Nobody had warned me that the hardest part wouldn’t be the sleepless nights or the diapers or the tantrums. It would be waking up every morning and immediately wondering what new disaster my child had managed to create before breakfast. And unfortunately, Alberto was extremely creative. “Mama!” I froze halfway down the hallway when I heard him scream my name. And that particular tone he used, meant trouble. It was the kind that usually involved cleaning supplies. I hurried toward the kitchen without any more thoughts, and the second I walked in, I stopped. Then I closed my eyes, but I opened them again, and yet the mess remained. Flour covered half the kitchen. Eggshells littered the counter. Milk dripped from the edge of the table. And standing proudly in the middle of it all was my four-year-old son, holding a wooden spoon covered in flour from head to toe, like a tiny criminal standing at the scene of his own crime. “Mama.” His smi
Zara’s POVFIVE YEARS LATERFive Years Later, the first thing I heard every morning wasn’t my alarm. Apparently, It was my son.“Mama!”Followed immediately by the sound of tiny feet running across hardwood floors, then chaos. Always chaos.I barely had enough time to sit upright before my bedroom door flew open and a small tornado launched himself onto my bed.“Oof!”I laughed as four-year-old Alberto landed directly on my stomach. His dark hair stuck up in every direction, his pajamas were inside out. And his smile could probably power an entire city.“Mama,” he announced dramatically.“I’m starving.”I checked the clock and was shocked to see that it was just Six-thirty in the morning. Which was far too early for this level of energy.“That’s impossible.”His eyes narrowed for a second.“Why?”“You ate twice before bed.”His expression turned serious.“As a growing boy, I require fuel.”I stared at him and then I couldn’t help it, I just laughed. Because sometimes he sounded fright
Zara’s POVEverything went silent when he stepped forward. Not even the music. Not the crowd.But everything inside me.Matteo’s eyes locked on mine, looking so dark and furious. With an expression so cold I could tell that I was in trouble.The girl I’d been fighting slowly backed away like she su
Zara’s POVEverything went silent when he stepped forward. Not even the music. Not the crowd.But everything inside me.Matteo’s eyes locked on mine, looking so dark and furious. With an expression so cold I could tell that I was in trouble.The
Zara’s POVWhen I woke up, the first thing I felt was heaviness, like my limbs didn’t quite belong to me.My eyelids fluttered open slowly, as the unfamiliar bright white ceiling above me came into view. And the air smelled sterile, almost like I was in a Hospital Or w
Matteo’s POVI was in the study hours later after the scene at the warehouse when the gate alarm chimed.An arrival I presumed unscheduled but I didn’t look up immediately. “Who is it?” I asked Marco through the internal line.“Female,” he said after a pa







