Prologue: The Shadow That Never Fades

Rain slicked the asphalt, creating ghostly reflections of the streetlights flickering in the midnight haze. In front of the grand doors of the Orsini estate, a woman stood, a cigarette nestled between her fingers. Alessandra exhaled slowly, letting the nicotine settle in her lungs, steadying the turmoil in her mind.

Three years. Three years since her brother, Adriano, had been thrown into prison for a single fatal mistake—a recklessness never forgiven in their world. But power? It had not diminished in the slightest. Even behind bars, Adriano still pulled the strings, still a shadow dictating everything that happened in the underworld. Alessandra had merely been his executioner.

Tonight was different. Tonight, Adriano was coming back.

The grand doors swung open.

There he stood—the man Alessandra had only heard through encrypted calls for the past three years.

From the outside, he hadn't changed. Black tie, pristine suit, polished shoes. But Alessandra knew something darker now lingered within him. Three years in prison were not simply wasted time. They were years spent carving out vengeance, strategizing, and waiting for the right moment.

Adriano studied his sister, his gaze cold yet filled with something difficult to decipher.

"Still smoking?"

Alessandra arched a brow, blowing the smoke to the side.

"After three years locked away, that’s the first thing you say to me?"

Adriano smirked—a smirk never truly warm, merely a habit that deceived many.

"Not much has changed, it seems."

"I’m the same as ever—just worse," Alessandra replied calmly, then let the cigarette fall, grinding it out under her shoe.

Adriano stepped forward, his fingers lifting a stray strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear just as he always had since they were children.

"And I’ve returned to ensure everything runs as it should."

Alessandra held his gaze, unblinking.

"For three years, I controlled the underworld. Don’t think you can reclaim it without resistance, Adriano."

He let out a quiet laugh.

"Oh, I won’t take it from you, Alessandra. I’ll only make sure you don’t destroy it."

Behind them, in the dim glow of the chandelier, their father stood. His presence was sharp, almost unnerving—not because he despised Adriano, but because he expected nothing less than chaos from him.

"You never learned, Adriano," their father murmured, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Adriano turned slightly, his smirk unwavering.

"Maybe I learned just enough."

Their father exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He would welcome Adriano back because he was still his son—because family was family. But that didn’t mean he trusted him.

"Try not to burn everything down this time," he muttered before walking past them.

Adriano watched him go, his expression unreadable. Alessandra, however, knew exactly what that meant.

Tonight, the Orsini family was whole again.

But some wounds lingered, and trust was never freely given.