LOGIN
IT ALL STARTED IN ROME, 2010
He walked among the dead bodies in the park, his eyes searching every single familiar face.
“Sir, we need to leave,” Nicholas said as he followed him, but Victor Kade raised a hand to stop him from getting close. He saw his very close friend and squatted next to him, watching his body. His body had been brutally cut, and his left hand was severed; it was the sign of the Zachary belt whenever they attacked. Victor felt a tear run down his face. Brown had died in his place.
“Boss, we need to leave,” Nicholas said again. “We have to get out of here,” he added, looking out for any attacker. Victor stood up and made to leave when suddenly a hand grabbed his leg. Instinctively, Nicholas shot at Brown, and Victor screamed out in anger.
“Fuck, I didn't know…”
“Get the fuck out!” Victor shouted at him as he got down to Brown, holding him. “Brown, Brown.” He shook him vigorously. Felix opened his eyes slowly, life slipping out of him.
“Pro…tect my…chil…dren,” he said and dropped lifeless.
“Brown… Brown,” Victor screamed out loud.
Los Angeles, March 2025
“I am sick and done,” Isabella said, pulling off the apron and slamming it on her boss’s table. “I quit.”
“Isabella,” he shouted in a way to scare her, but she wasn't having it.
“How long has it been? How long? I have been working, and you… you are a bloody thief! You haven't paid me even once.”
“You are fired!” he screamed, and she laughed. In sudden anger, she cleared his desk.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I just want to let you know that you can't fire someone who isn't working under you,” she said, then pointed at him. “I will get my money in full.” She spat at him and turned to leave the restaurant. She had been working the past months and had only been given half of every due, which she couldn't tolerate anymore. She would rather find jobs elsewhere.
As she walked out in anger, she brushed past a person and shot her eyes at him.
“Watch your way,” she said, still reeling in her frustration.
“You should,” he replied, his eyes studying her face, but she wasn't having it. She made to walk past him when his guard stepped into her way.
“Now, what is this?” she asked, turning back to the man.
“You haven't apologized,” he said, and she gave a bitter chuckle.
“I have nowhere to go, so he can stay in my way for as long as he wishes,” she said, and he turned to face her.
“My name is Kevin Zacchaeous.” He extended a hand.
“I… don't care,” she said, storming past the guard and out of the restaurant.
Her phone started ringing as she waved down a bus. It was her brother, Jason.
“Hey, baby boy,” she said as soon as she picked up the call, with a smile on her face.
“Sister, how are you doing?” he asked with a not-so-cheerful voice. She sat by the window.
“I'm doing just fine, and you?” she asked, fear of what was coming already hitting her.
“I'm good. It's just…” he paused. “I don't mean to burden you, sister, but I need my practical note as soon as possible,” he said.
She exhaled, exhausted; she knew it.
“I will get it to you, Jason. Before the end of the week,” she said.
“Alright, sister. Take care of yourself,” he said and hung up.
She dropped the call and dropped her head on her lap. She was drained, emotionally, physically, and most importantly, financially. The bus stopped at her stop, and Isabella Hart walked down to her apartment. Valerie Hart was standing by her door and smiled as soon as she saw Isabella.
“What are you doing here?” Isabella asked, looking at her mother.
“Isa, I am clean now. I'm not doing drugs anymore,” Valerie said, and Isabella laughed bitterly.
“How much do you need?” she asked.
“Just… just a little bit of money,” Valerie said desperately. She looked stricken by the effects of the substance.
Isabella took some money from her pocket and gave it to her. Valerie grabbed it with gratitude.
“Don't ever come back here,” she said.
“I will never,” Valerie said, turned, and Isabella watched her mother's disappearing figure before opening her door. She went to crash on the bed as her heart tightened in her chest. She was losing it all.
Her phone started ringing again, and she brought it out from her pocket, wondering which other bill Jason wanted to remind her about… but it was Delaney, her best friend, calling.
“Hey, bestie,” Delaney’s cheerful voice was enough to raise her spirit.
“Delaney,” she breathed out, stressed.
“So I passed by your restaurant, and one of your colleagues said you quit. You finally listened to me… Congratulations, my sweetie. I'll pick you up by evening to celebrate freedom, and don't you dare say no,” she said immediately. “It's my treat,” she added, but Isabella wasn't cut out for a party. She had her whole life crushing right in front of her.
“Delaney…”
“Bye, see you by evening, and I will really be angry if you ain't dressed,” Delaney interrupted and hung up.
Isabella dropped the call and sat up, massaging her temple slowly while thinking. Maybe she needed some alcohol in her system after all.
Later that evening, Delaney Walker pulled up in front of her house in her Mercedes-Benz S-Class. Isabella walked into her car and shut the door.
“You're glowing, Isa. Look at that skin! Being out suits you so well,” Delaney said, smiling, and Isabella rolled her eyes. Delaney was fond of hyping.
“I just quit today, Delan,” Isa said.
“Oh, I forgot… Can you see what it feels like to quit where you are being used?” Delaney asked, then keyed her car. “We are going partying,” she added, and Isabella looked at her.
“Don't you think I'm doing it the wrong way? I mean, there's no job yet, and what…?”
“I'd rather pay you than have you continue working at that godforsaken restaurant. You know how much I've been bugging you to quit. Well, tonight is not for regrets,” Delaney said, and Isa rested her back.
Delaney pulled the car into a car park as she vibed to the music from the party. She turned to Isabella and tapped her hand.
“Don't ghost on me. Get down, let's get to the party,” she said.
Isabella took her fancy little bag and got out of the car. They had barely gotten to the entrance of the club when a young, handsome-looking man came out.
“Hi.” They hugged, and Isa watched him smile sheepishly.
“You must be Delaney,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, then turned to introduce Isa. “My best friend since a very long time, Isabella. Isabella, meet—”
“I'll pass,” Isa said.
He definitely was another of Delaney’s one-time boyfriends that she met on some social media, and they were never meeting him again.
“Come on in. I have a whole lot of enjoyment planned for you,” he said, gesturing to them.
Delaney tugged at her hand when she brushed past her.
“Be polite. I might work out with this one,” she said, and Isabella chuckled for the first time since the day began. Delaney joined in her chuckling as they tried to keep their distance.
“Damn, see his shoe,” Delaney said, and Isabella used every fiber in her to hold her laughter.
“Delaney, please,” she said, but Delaney was grinning. At first meeting, Delaney tends to critically analyze her date, and already Isabella knew he held no chance.
They followed him to his group of friends, who all tried to remain polite, but midway into the conversation, Delaney went on to dance with her new date. His friend tried to engage her in a conversation, but she wasn't having it. She left their table and went to the bar, ordering drinks and downing them glass after glass.
Slowly the whole club became so big. She stood up and was tipsy. Then she turned and saw a clown. He looked so serious, downing his own glasses, and he was in a suit.
Who the heck wears a suit to a club?
Her boss.
She staggered to him, crashing right into the space in front of him.
“Get your suit off,” she said. “I mean right now,” she commanded, trying to hold her foot.
“Get yourself a seat,” he dismissed her. “Another glass,” he said to the bartender.
What? He dismissed her just like that? What does he take her for, some boring old lady?
“You will not do that.” She crashed into his lap, taking hold of his face and smooching him immediately. He pushed her back, but she wasn't having it. She was sucking on his lips as though her whole world depended on it.
Victor admitted it to himself first. The thought was bitter. “It’s possible, isn’t it? The message… it could be from the same person. The one who set up Rome.”Isabella moved to the window. Her back was to him. City lights reflected in the glass. She was thinking. He could almost hear it. She was going over everything she learned since coming back. She was more like Felix than she knew. A planner. A fighter.“How many knew your exact moves that night?” Her voice was low. Careful.Victor paused. He counted in his head. The inner circle. The ones who handled the most secret info. “Four. Me included. My security chief, Vincenzo. My consigliere, Marcello. And Seth.”“Four.” She turned. Her eyes narrowed. “Three others.”“Three others,” he confirmed.“And how many of those three are still… active?” She hesitated on the last word.“Two,” Victor said. The old suspicion weighed on him. “Vincenzo is gone. Died a few years back. Natural causes.”“Leaving Marcello and Seth,” she said, her ga
Isabella felt her phone buzz as she walked away from Victor’s office. His anger still felt close, like heat on her skin. Another unknown message. Her stomach turned. She thought it might be from Cora. Another threat. Another taunt. But when she read it, cold fear ran through her. Worse than anything Cora had sent._Don’t trust the man keeping you safe._ _The same hands that held your father while he died… are the hands now holding you close._Isabella’s breath caught. This wasn’t Cora. This was different. Her blood went cold, then hot. Every part of her wanted to delete it. To pretend she never saw it. But the words were already stuck in her head. She was done being kept in the dark. Done being used.Without thinking, she turned around. The door to his study was still open. Victor sat at his desk again, staring at papers. A half-empty glass sat under the lamp. He looked up, surprised, when she pushed the door open wider.“Isabella?” His voice was calm, but his jaw looked
The words were stuck in Victor’s throat, thick and heavy like old oil. He hated this. He hated the way his stomach twisted, a familiar cold knot forming low in his gut. Protecting Isabella felt like a constant battle against forces he couldn’t always see, and now, calming her was no longer part of that equation. Keeping her calm was the opposite of what he had to do. This was going to break that fragile peace they’d somehow cultivated. But she needed to know. She deserved to know.Victor pulled out his phone, the screen felt hot in his hand, and turned it around without a word. The image filled the small space between them, stark and intrusive. Isabella, standing by the sandwich cart, her dark hair catching the light, a small, unconscious smile on her lips. A moment of normal, weaponized.Her eyes, usually so expressive, widened just a fraction. It was fleeting, a ripple across a perfectly still pond. Then, the stillness settled in, cold and sharp, like winter ice. Victor recognized i
The words were stuck in Victor’s throat, thick and heavy like old oil. He hated this. He hated the way his stomach twisted, a familiar cold knot forming low in his gut. Protecting Isabella felt like a constant battle against forces he couldn’t always see, and now, calming her was no longer part of that equation. Keeping her calm was the opposite of what he had to do. This was going to break that fragile peace they’d somehow cultivated. But she needed to know. She deserved to know.Victor pulled out his phone, the screen felt hot in his hand, and turned it around without a word. The image filled the small space between them, stark and intrusive. Isabella, standing by the sandwich cart, her dark hair catching the light, a small, unconscious smile on her lips. A moment of normal, weaponized.Her eyes, usually so expressive, widened just a fraction. It was fleeting, a ripple across a perfectly still pond. Then, the stillness settled in, cold and sharp, like winter ice. Victor recognized i
The dead line hummed in Victor’s ear, a stark reminder of Cora’s words. Thirty seconds. He held the phone to his ear, listening to nothing, absorbing the silence that now filled the space where her frantic voice had been. Kevin was coming. Kevin knew about the necklace. He had killed someone for it. Victor lowered the receiver slowly, the plastic cool against his palm.“Seth!” he bellowed, his voice rougher than he intended.A moment later, crisp knocks sounded on his door, and then Seth entered, closing it softly behind him. He looked at Victor, a question in his eyes. Seth was good at picking up on shifts in Victor’s mood, always had been. Today, the shift was a seismic event.“Cora called,” Victor began, the words tumbling out, almost tripping over each other. He told him everything. Her terror, the hurried warning, the name: Kevin Moretti. He described the necklace, the specific way she’d spoken about it, connecting it unequivocally to Felix. And then, the chilling detail—the woma
Victor’s fingers tightened around the phone, the plastic digging into his palm. It had been thirteen years. Thirteen long years since she’d vanished, a ghost in the wind, leaving nothing but questions and a gaping hole in his life. He’d torn the city apart looking for her, chasing shadows, clinging to scraps of hope that always turned to dust. Now, a voice, a whisper from the past, was making his blood run cold.“Cora?” he breathed, the name a foreign sound on his tongue after so long.“Yes, Victor. It’s me.” Her voice, softer now, but with an underlying steel he remembered well, sent a shiver down his spine.His mind reeled, trying to process the impossible. “Where have you been? Why… how?”“I had to disappear,” she said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion. “It was the only way to survive.”“Survive what?” The words tumbled out, laced with a decade of frustration.“The information I possessed,” she explained, a sigh escaping her lips. “It made me a target. Staying alive wasn’t easy,
“I cannot keep doing this in my head alone,” Isabella said under her breath as she shut her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it for a second like the wood itself might steady her thoughts.She walked a few steps in and stopped because sitting felt like admitting she was falling apart, and
“I do not understand how this is even real,” Isabella said, her voice low and uneven, still sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, her eyes fixed on the photographs like they might shift again if she looked away for too long.Victor did not answer immediately.He was still standing wh
“You asked to see me,” Isabella said as she stepped into the study, her voice low and careful, already aware of how quiet the room was and how Victor was standing with his back to her, looking out at the city like she was not there yet.He did not answer right away.She waited.After a few seconds
“I am not opening it,” Isabella said softly to herself in the dark of her room, the words coming out like a promise she was not sure she believed, her fingers curled tight around the edge of her bag where the key now lived like a secret with weight.She placed the bag on the chair instead of the be







