The wind was blowing fiercely, as if whispering the name of your doomed family. You stood in front of the ancient palace… the Casterave mansion, where your uncle, Fernandez Casterave, lived—Marshal of the Marines and leader of the most powerful mafia family in France.

The palace stood tall in the darkness of the night, just like the man you hated most of all.

You… his niece. You lived your childhood in Italy, far from this hell, until you were eighteen, when your brother was in an accident protecting Fernandez from a vile assassination attempt. At that moment, you realized that all roads led to one man… your father's killer.

You never forgot the day your father was accused of treason ,betrayal of the mafia's code and the punishment was death. No mercy, no hesitation. It was ordered by your uncle, in cold blood.

You gripped your bag tightly as you breathed slowly, preparing yourself for the meeting you had long awaited. When the door opened, you saw him standing there… Fernandez. Despite the passing years, he still maintained his strong build and his overwhelming handsomeness. He was forty-five years old, but his features had not succumbed to the effects of time… Only the distinctive scar that split his lower lip added to his intimidating appearance.

His gaze was harsh and profound… A mixture of sobriety, strength, and tyranny. Among his men, he was known by a nickname forged by fear: “The Black Saint.”

“You’re back at last. You’ve enlightened France with your return, my dear,” he said in a low, cold voice, as if nothing had happened between you. You didn’t answer. You didn’t bow. You raised your chin high, fighting off all the memories that stabbed you in the chest. You answered him coldly, “I didn’t come for you. You’re still my enemy, just as you were before, Fernandez Castarave.”