“We found her, boss.”
I walked in on one of my uncle’s men mid-sentence. The room fell silent instantly, every single one of them bowing their heads in respect. The air felt heavy—tight with tension, like something ugly was about to happen.
I scanned the men’s faces. Their expressions were stoic, but I saw it in their eyes.
Fear.
“Hello, nephew,” my uncle’s sinister voice greeted.
I turned to face him.
“Uncle.” I nodded and took the seat he gestured toward. “You asked for me,” I said calmly, even as silent irritation crept in. His all-knowing smile told me exactly why I’d been summoned.
There was only one reason the Don would call the underboss to meet him personally.
My time was up.
And I still had no answers.
“Ah… yes, I did,” he said. “But first—how are my niece and nephew?”
I bit back a sharp reply. My uncle was dangerous. I was one too, but as the underboss, respect wasn’t optional.
“Estefania and Jose are fine,” I replied. “Let’s get straight to the point, Uncle. You’re a busy man. I am too.”
His expression hardened.
I wasn’t afraid of him.
I was afraid of what he could do to the people I cared about.
My uncle—Don Dante Aleotti—was the perfect definition of dangerous.
Mafia meant brutality, yes.
But Dante?
He was something else entirely.
“I haven’t found her,” I continued, ignoring the tick in his jaw. “I haven’t found my wife. My two months are over, aren’t they?”
He slammed his fist on the table, papers flying everywhere. A few of his men flinched. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Your wife fucking duped us,” he snarled. “And you want me to believe you knew nothing about it?”
“You and I both know Ginevra could be dead by now,” he continued. “She connived with our enemy, made off with over fifty million dollars, and vanished. And you expect me to believe you noticed nothing? For fuck’s sake, nephew, you married her because of her father’s debt. There was no love. No attachment.”
“Exactly,” I cut in. “I didn’t meddle in her life. She didn’t meddle in mine.”
“And that,” he said smoothly, all traces of anger disappearing, “was your mistake. Whether you loved her or not, you were responsible for her. Her movements. Her life. Even the bodyguards you assigned failed.”
His phone rang, cutting the tension. Without breaking eye contact, he answered, barking orders into it. His expression darkened.
Good.
He stood, motioning for three men to follow him.
“We’ll continue this later,” he said as he reached the door.
I smirked. I had no intention of coming back unless hell broke loose in the underworld.
After he left, I stood up—and that was when I saw it.
A red envelope.
Our insignia stamped neatly on it.
In this world, red envelopes meant only one thing.
Target.
But this one looked untouched.
Curiosity won.
I slipped it into my jacket, already deciding Alessandro would handle the security footage. For now, I wanted a drink. Maybe a distraction.
Alessandro was waiting the moment I stepped out.
“It went exactly as we thought,” I said. “Fuck. That woman brought nothing but trouble. I shouldn’t have married her.”
“You needed a wife,” Alessandro replied.
“Well, I need one again. Jose won’t stop crying for his mother, and Estefania’s shut herself off completely.”
“You think Ginevra’s still alive?”
My gaze hardened.
“I hope not. Because if she is, and I find her, I’ll kill her.”
He nodded.
I pulled the envelope from my jacket. He raised a brow.
“Are we torturing someone again?”
“No. This was on my uncle’s desk.”
“So you stole it.”
“Basically.”
Inside the limo, he opened it, scanning the first file. Surprise flickered across his face.
“What?” I snapped.
“Give me a second,” he said. “I’m processing.”
He’d been my best friend since childhood—one of the few people allowed to speak to me like that. Anyone else would already be dead.
“I thought Ginevra was Antonio’s only child,” he said.
“She is.”
“Well,” he replied slowly, “turns out she has a twin.”
I snatched the file.
Identical.
Pictures taken days ago. Age, bank records, address, workplace.
Same face.
Different eyes.
Ginevra’s had been sharp and blue.
These were round.
Warm.
Hazel.
I checked the name.
Alejandra Romano.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across my face.
“Well,” I murmured, “I guess you’re mine now.”