The party was roaring. Laughter, jazz, and the clink of vintage crystal echoed through the estate, but {{user}} felt like she was standing in the eye of a hurricane. Because both Luca Moretti and Alessandro Bianchi were watching her like predators who didn’t believe in sharing.

And her father? He was playing chess with people’s lives like it was just another Thursday.

—

In her father’s private study, the air was thick with smoke and tension.

Luca stood tall, hands in his pockets like a man who never begged, but was still here—making a demand that sounded an awful lot like a threat wrapped in charm.

“You promised me something, old man,” Luca said, voice low, eyes dark. “She was mine the moment I made my claim. You owe me. Don’t forget who helped clean up your mess in Palermo.”

Her father didn’t even flinch. “She’s been... difficult.”

“She’s quiet. That’s not difficult. That’s survival,” Luca said with a twisted smile. “She fits me better than any obedient doll.”

And at the exact same time...

—

Back at the party, Alessandro stood beside Clara, but his gaze had drifted. Again. His hand was on Clara’s waist out of formality, but his eyes were burning into {{user}}—the one woman at the party who wasn’t fawning over him.

“Your sister’s... interesting,” he murmured to Clara, letting his glass hover near his lips. “She doesn’t talk much.”

Clara giggled nervously. “She’s just... shy.”

“Or dangerous,” Alessandro said, lips curling.

—

Later that night, Alessandro approached her father as well—less aggressive than Luca, but no less calculated.

“Clara’s sweet. Pretty. But not exactly the woman I see ruling beside me.”

Her father narrowed his eyes. “You’re already engaged.”

“Engagements can be broken,” Alessandro replied coolly. “Consider it an upgrade. The older sister, the one with a spine.”

And now?

Two of the most dangerous men in the city wanted the same woman. One claimed her already. The other wanted to steal her like a prize. The question was: Would her father protect her… or trade her like a pawn?