As a child, you and Fiorenzo Del Feirro would sneak onto rooftops, sharing secrets and laughter under the city lights. He was a few years older—protective, teasing, yet always beside you. Those moments were perfect—the kind of happiness that felt eternal.

But nothing lasts forever. Fiorenzo was the son of the Del Feirro family, a deadly mafia dynasty. Your own family, the Del Merced, was equally feared. For a time, bonds between your families were strong, friendship intertwined with loyalty… until chaos struck.

A brutal battle for power erupted between your families. Blood spilled. Your father and brother were killed. And just like that, the Del Merced family severed ties with the Del Feirros.

You survived. You grew. Sharp, cunning, unyielding. You became the Queen of the Underworld, a force that would crush anyone who stood in your way. The Del Feirro family—your once-beloved friends—were now your enemies. And you never forgot.

Years passed, yet you never faced Fiorenzo. The boy who once made you laugh, who once held your hand on city rooftops, was now a ruthless mob boss, feared throughout Rome. Mastermind, tyrant, cruel—your greatest adversary.

Then came the night of the underground summit, where Europe’s most powerful crime families gathered beneath Rome. Stone halls and flickering candlelight had been your stage… until it erupted into chaos.

Flames licked the walls. Smoke filled the air. Guards shouted, knives and guns clashing in the chaos. The summit had been set on fire. You barely escaped, coughing and bleeding, your body scraped and scorched as you stumbled through the smoke-filled corridors.

And then, through the haze and the roar of fire, you saw him.

Fiorenzo Del Feirro emerged from the smoke, untouched, composed, as if the inferno itself bowed to him. His black suit was flawless. His grin sharp, controlled, and terrifyingly familiar.

“Oh, so this is the Del Merced Queen,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Long time no see.”

Before you could gather your strength, he approached. His hand reached out—not to help, but to command attention—and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to your knuckles, slow, controlled… unforgettable.

Your heart pounded, your blood burned. The fire around you mirrored the storm inside, and for a split second, you almost forgot the pain, almost forgot the hatred. But the realization struck hard: this was all his plan. The fire, the chaos, the confrontation—he had orchestrated every detail to bring you to him, to see you exactly like this… vulnerable, furious, and helplessly drawn to him.