The sky over Monte Reale burned orange with the first touch of sunrise, bleeding its colors across the jagged mountains and sleeping villages. Inside the old vineyard estate, Casey sat silently, her back propped against the wooden wall, her hand resting over her belly. Her eyes were open, but she hadn't slept. Couldn't.
Her mind replayed every word the scarred woman had said.
Daehyun Park. The exiled brother. The heirloom. The baby. The war.
It was too much, and yet… it explained everything.
Suddenly, the silence cracked—
BOOM.
The front door shattered off its hinges. Mirella was on her feet before the splinters hit the ground, gun raised. Luca dove toward Casey, shielding her with his body.
And standing in the smoke, like the devil rising from his own ash, was Ivan Park.
No suit. No mask. No games.
Just blood on his knuckles, bruises on his jaw, and rage in his eyes.
"Casey." His voice was hoarse. "Come with me."
She stared up at him from behind Luca. "No."
Ivan's jaw clenched. "You're carrying my child. You don't get to say no."
"You didn't ask when you put it inside me," she snapped. "Why should I listen now?"
The moment cracked. For the first time, Ivan faltered.
Luca stood between them, blocking his path. "You're not taking her."
Ivan didn't even look at him. "Move before I break your spine."
"Try," Luca said, dead calm.
But Casey's voice cut between them. "Stop!"
She pushed herself up, wincing as her body protested.
"I'll talk to him," she said quietly. "Alone."
"Casey—" Mirella started.
"Please."
Luca hesitated. But he knew. He always knew when her mind was set.
Ivan didn't say thank you. Didn't offer a hand. He just turned and walked outside, expecting her to follow.
And she did.
They stood in the back courtyard of the vineyard, beneath a rusted iron arch tangled with wild vines.
He didn't look at her. "I almost killed a man in Milan because he said you were dead."
Casey crossed her arms. "Too bad I'm not."
He turned then. Face bare. Angrier at himself than anyone else. "Why didn't you tell me you were scared?"
"You wouldn't have cared," she said flatly.
"I always cared."
"No, Ivan. You cared about the baby. Not me."
He exhaled sharply. "Because that baby is the only thing that isn't stained in my life."
Casey's voice trembled, but her stare held steady. "Then why make me feel like I was nothing but an incubator?"
Ivan didn't answer immediately. He looked away, jaw ticking. "Because if I looked at you like a person… I would've loved you."
Casey froze.
Ivan stepped forward, his voice raw. "And I don't know how to love without destroying."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "Then why are you here?"
"Because you ran. And because now… they're coming. My brother. The old council. They know about the child."
Casey looked up. "So what do we do?"
He stepped closer, brushing a thumb over her cheek—hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he deserved to touch her.
"We fight," he whispered. "Together."
But her voice was softer still. "And when it's over?"
He didn't answer.
Because even he didn't believe they'd survive what was coming next.
Back inside, Mirella paced. Luca stared out the broken door.
"She's going to break," Mirella muttered. "You can see it in her eyes."
"She's stronger than she looks," Luca said. "But even stone shatters if you strike the right place."
And somewhere, in the dark folds of the Italian hills, another pair of eyes watched the vineyard through a sniper scope.
A voice whispered through an earpiece.
"Daehyun. I see her."
A reply came, cold and sharp.
"Then mark her. The bloodline ends before it begins."
The breeze shifted, bringing with it the faint scent of gunpowder and old wine. Ivan leaned against the ancient stone wall of the vineyard house, watching Casey as she sat on the bench beneath the olive tree. The early sun filtered through the branches, casting light across her tired face. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but she was calm now. Or pretending to be.
He didn't know how to talk to her without hurting her.
So he stayed quiet.
Casey finally broke the silence. "What was my mother like?"
Ivan's brows drew together. "Why are you asking me?"
"Because you knew her. Didn't you?"
He stiffened. "I was a teenager when she was taken. I knew she was beautiful. Kind. And that she had secrets no one ever got close enough to learn. But she wasn't supposed to get pregnant. With his child."
"His?"
Ivan turned, lips pressed in a thin line. "My father. He raped her."
Casey's heart stopped. Her mouth went dry. "That's how I was born?"
Ivan didn't flinch. "She escaped before he could kill her for it. The woman who came to you—Lucia—is one of the last people who helped her vanish. And I didn't know… until I found your name in the files left behind by my mother's killer."
Casey tried to breathe, but everything around her spun. The world tilted.
"You knew I was her daughter… and still treated me like—like I was—"
"A carrier?" he finished bitterly. "Yeah. Because I didn't want to believe it. Because if I did, it meant I was just like him."
A long silence settled between them.
And then Casey whispered, "You're not."
Ivan met her eyes.
"You're cruel. You're violent. And sometimes I hate you," she said, tears spilling down. "But you could've killed me when I ran. You didn't."
His jaw clenched.
"Because I couldn't," he said.
Later that night, Mirella handed Casey a bundle of old letters. Faded, crinkled at the edges, and tied with a red ribbon.
"I found them in the walls of the house," she said. "They're from your mother. To you."
Casey opened the first letter with shaking fingers.
My dearest figlia,
If you are reading this, it means the world tried to silence you, and you survived anyway.
You come from blood that ruled and destroyed. But you—
you can choose to be different.
Protect what you love. And don't be afraid of the fire you carry. It will light your way home.
— Emilia
The tears finally fell freely.
Casey wasn't just a surrogate.
Not just a woman carrying the next mafia heir.
She was a daughter of the storm.
Born of violence. Raised in shadow.
And maybe—just maybe—destined to end the bloodline that destroyed her mother.
Outside, Ivan stood alone, looking up at the stars.
Luca joined him, silent for a moment before asking, "You believe you deserve her?"
Ivan didn't look away from the sky. "No."
"Then what the hell are you still doing here?"
Ivan lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
"Trying to be better," he murmured. "Before the war swallows me whole."
In the shadows beyond the vineyard, a man in all black crouched near the base of the hill. He adjusted his earpiece and whispered:
"She's marked. But there's a complication. Ivan's with her."
Static. Then a reply.
"I don't care if it's his corpse you drag back. Kill him. And burn the vineyard to ash."