The morning after Luciana's world shifted, Moscow felt colder.
The city hadn't changed, but she had. Luciana. That name still sat heavy in her chest, like a key to a room she hadn't asked to enter.
She stood at the edge of the estate's private greenhouse, watching Mikhail chase snowflakes with Anton's daughter, Yelena. Their laughter was light, cutting through the shadows that clung to her. Innocence. A luxury.
Damian approached from behind, silent as a ghost. He wrapped a coat around her shoulders before she realized she was shivering.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"I don't think I've really slept in weeks," she murmured. "Every time I close my eyes, there's another truth waiting to gut me."
He stood beside her, quiet.
"She wants me to come to Rome," she said finally. "Elena—my mother. She says the council of the old families is reforming. They want me there."
His jaw tensed. "Do you want to go?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I need to understand the truth. About who I was… and what I'm meant to be."
He nodded slowly. "Then we go together."
Luciana turned to him, eyes searching. "You'd walk into enemy territory for me?"
"I already have," Damian said. "The day I married you."
She swallowed the knot in her throat. "What if I choose to stand with them, Damian?"
He took her hand, lifting it to his lips. "Then I'll burn Rome to the ground… and build you a new throne with the ashes."
---
Two nights later, a sleek black jet cut through the clouds toward Italy.
Luciana sat near the window, Damian reviewing maps beside her, Anton checking weapons in the back. Mikhail stayed behind with Olga, under heavy guard. She hated leaving him, but Damian was right—Rome would be no place for a child.
When they landed at a private airstrip near Tuscany, a convoy of vintage Maseratis awaited. Elena emerged from the lead car, dressed in mourning black, eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
"You came," she said, voice thick with emotion.
"I had to," Luciana said. "The ghosts wouldn't let me sleep."
They embraced briefly. Damian watched from behind, his hand never straying far from his sidearm.
"I've arranged a private villa," Elena said. "Secluded. Safe. We leave immediately."
The drive through winding hills was eerie. Vineyards rolled endlessly into twilight, but the air was taut with something unspoken.
At the villa, Elena finally broke the silence.
"There's something you need to know, Luciana. About your birth."
Luciana leaned forward.
"You were never meant to be mine," Elena whispered. "At least, not at first."
Damian stiffened.
"What do you mean?" Luciana asked.
Elena clasped her hands tightly. "You were born to my younger sister. Isabella."
Luciana froze.
"She died during childbirth. Kevin… he saw an opportunity. He took you—his blood—and gave you to me. Said you'd be safer that way. That if anyone found out Isabella had a daughter, they'd use you to manipulate the family."
Luciana's heart pounded.
"So, you raised me as your own."
Elena nodded. "I loved you like you were. I still do. But I thought you deserved to know… your real mother died giving you life. And your father… Kevin used that tragedy to shape a lie."
Damian spoke up. "He's been planning this for decades. Grooming Luciana to inherit a throne drenched in manipulation."
"And now he wants her back," Elena said. "But not as a daughter—as a queen."
---
That night, Luciana stood on the villa's rooftop terrace, overlooking the dark Italian countryside.
Damian joined her, his fingers brushing hers.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly. "But I'm surviving."
He pulled her close, resting his chin on her head. "This doesn't change who you are."
"Doesn't it?" she asked. "I'm not Lily Keller. I'm not the woman who grew up baking with a man who wasn't my father. And I'm not just your wife anymore."
"No," Damian agreed. "You're something far more dangerous now."
She looked up at him. "Are you afraid of me?"
He smirked. "No. But everyone else should be."
Then he kissed her like the world was ending—deep, bruising, consuming.
She melted into him, teeth clashing, hands gripping.
They didn't make it back to the bedroom.
He lifted her onto the marble balcony rail, reckless and wild, her legs wrapping around him, heat blooming between them like wildfire. The chill night air bit at their skin, but the fire in their blood kept them burning.
"I want you," she whispered against his lips.
"You have me," he growled. "All of me."
And he gave her everything.
---
The next morning, Luciana awoke to find a letter slid beneath her door.
From Kevin.
Her real father.
The paper smelled of cigar smoke and old cologne. His handwriting was sharp, elegant.
> Luciana,
Welcome home.
You have questions. I have answers.
Come to the gardens of Villa Morani at dusk.
Come alone.
—K
Damian read the note and instantly shook his head. "It's a trap."
"It's a message," she said. "He wants to speak to me. Not the Bratva. Not Elena. Me."
"I'm not letting you go alone."
"You won't be far," she said. "Just let me face him."
Damian looked ready to punch through the wall.
But finally, he said, "If he touches you, I end him."
Luciana kissed him softly. "I know."
---
Villa Morani was quiet at dusk.
Luciana stepped through the wrought-iron gates, unarmed, cloaked in a simple black dress.
Kevin waited among the roses, back turned, hands behind him.
When he heard her steps, he smiled without turning.
"You walk like her," he said. "Like Isabella."
Luciana's heart stuttered. "You lied to me."
He turned, face older than she remembered, but sharp as ever. "I protected you."
"You stole me."
"I saved you. From a life of weakness. From a man who would've wasted you in a bakery in Ohio."
"You don't get to rewrite history."
Kevin stepped closer. "I gave you to Elena because I knew she'd make you strong. And she did. You're fire and venom. You were born to rule."
Luciana clenched her fists. "You framed my husband for murder."
"I made him. And I can unmake him. Choose the blood that birthed you. Step into the power that belongs to you."
"I have power."
"Not yet," Kevin said. "But you will. When you take your rightful place as the head of the Italian syndicate. With me."
Luciana's voice cut like a blade. "You don't get to command me."
Kevin smiled. "I already have. You just haven't realized it yet."
Then he walked away, disappearing into the shadows.
And Luciana stood alone, trembling—but not with fear.
With fury.
---