CHAPTER THREE

GINEVRA

When I was bought and brought to be groomed as a part of Dario Rodriguez’s family, my life had immediately taken a turn for the worst.

It was a hassle, growing up in his Godforsaken estate. The house was so beautiful and eye catching on the outside but on the inside, the people who dwelt in it made it a hell hole.

Dario Rodriguez’s children loathed me, especially his eldest and only son—Gustavo.

The boy detested me so much and wouldn’t hold himself back from physically harming me whenever he had the opportunity to, and whenever he set his eyes upon me.

One day, whilst I was being tortured by my brother dearest, the door had swung open and the most beautiful middle aged woman I had ever seen swaggered in with a huge smile.

And when he eyes landed on my tiny figure curled up into a ball on the floor, her smile had dropped at the speed of lightening.

She came close, held my hand, picked me up and held me to herself. She soothed me. And for the first time since I joined the Rodriguez famiglia, I found comfort in someone. I cried my pain into her shoulder and all she did was love me.

She loved me up until the day she breathed her last.

Julia Rodriguez.

A wonderful woman she was.

Julia did not die of natural causes. She was murdered and the crime was committed by none other than Gustavo Rodriguez.

Why would he do a wicked thing as such to his father’s sister? He held a grudge against her.

A stupid grudge that pushed him to a point where he had tampered with her brakes.

He killed my Julia and he didn’t care to conceal the fact. He wore his crimes with pride and every single member of his fucked up family stood by the side and applauded him.

Including his father. Julia’s brother.

Dario Rodriguez had been planning Julia’s assassination way before Gustavo swept in and stole the show.

My whole world came to an abrupt stop when I made this dsicovery.

Dario was really a fucked up man, so fucked up that he shook the hand of his son, praising him for planning and executing the assasination of his own sister.

It was the world we lived in. Loyalty was nonexistent.

I mourned Julia for as long as I was permitted to, and when I was barred from attending her funeral, I lost every ounce of humanity in me. So I made a promise to her, I promised her that I’d ruin that family.

I would do whatever it took to break them apart and burn them little by little until they became nothing but dust and ashes.

My plans were beginning to fall into place.

I was named the head of my famiglia and all that was left was power.

The power to sustain my reign.

Ghost was offering me an opportunity, a chance to achieve my goals and I would be a fool if I refused such offer.

I did it, I accepted his offer.

When he had mentioned Viktor Nikolai Advik, my interest piqued. I wanted to know more. It wasn’t just a want, it was a need.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he muttered a simple, “kill his daughter.” As though it was the easiest task to perform.

Viktor Nikolai Advik—Don Viktor—was the most powerful man in Russia if not the world. Rumor had it that he was a good man, kind, gentle, thoughtful even.

But the intensity at which he was good was the same intensity at which he was wicked.

His answer to everything was murder and he couldn’t care less if he needed to murder his own blood to get the job done.

He had his head in the game for years and he wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

He had a daughter, Ariana Advik. Quite the reputation she had.

Ariana was a young lady whose fame had gone beyond her, for her beauty, for her grace, for her hardened heart and for her addiction to whoring around.

She was everything a mob boss needed, and yet, she was unrelenting when it came down to ruining her and her family’s reputation.

Rumor had it that Don Viktor had a first wife who had given him a daughter but when tragedy struck his home, he lost his wife to the cold hands of death and his daughter somehow vanished without a trace.

And now, all Don Viktor had was Ariana. So, my hesitation, perhaps fear when the exquisite young man suggested that we took away Don Viktor’s only heir was expected.

“And why would I want to kill her?” I had asked, watching as Ghost lit up his cigar, placing the thick stick between his lips before dragging in a smoke.

With a huff, he answered. “You need The Pakhan’s attention and he’d never give it to a woman. Except a woman who earns it. If you play your cards right, maybe, just maybe he’d give you an opportunity to prove yourself to him.”

“His attention might very well cost my life.” I chirped.

Ghost chuckled. “Like I said, play your cards right.”

I was too stunned to speak, too conflicted to accept—but my desperation and greed were stronger than my self control.

So, I nodded once at Ghost’s proposal and in the back of my mind, I knew I was finished.

. . .

About seven days ago, when I had accepted Ghost’s offer, he had given me details of how the mission was to be carried out.

It took me about two days and numerous refusals before we were able to reach an agreement. And when he had asked me a simple question, I hadn’t given it a long thought before answering.

I always knew whom I’d give up for my quest.

“If it came down to framing someone for the death of the Pakhan’s daughter, who’d you chose?” Ghost had asked.

It only took a hot minute before I breathed, “Gustavo.”

Ghost nodded, seemingly aware of what my choice would be before he even asked the question. But he wasn’t completely satisfied with my answer. “There has to be two culprits. You have to play both the hero and the villain in this case. Your brother cannot go like that, else, rebellion will be stirred up and a division will happen. . .you can’t afford that trouble right now. Chose someone else.”

I chuckled, finding reason with him. And with one sharp intake of breath, I declared, “Maxwell.”

Ghost raised an amused brow as he leaned forward, lips stretched into a grin and eyes narrowed at me. “Maxwell? Why him?” He asked.

I simply shrugged my shoulders in response. “He’s been a pain in my ass since taking his father’s place in the parliament. I can’t stand him anymore.”

“Good.” Ghost proclaimed. “Maxwell it is.”

We had an agreement. And by the end of the seventh day, Ariana Viktor Advik was murdered at the party of sinners.

For some odd reason, I had cried for her whilst I watched her get murdered. Tears had slid down my face and my body trembled. I felt pity. I felt guilty. And I felt regret.

And Ghost, I could feel the heat of anger radiating out of him whilst we both sat in that car. He held my hand when I trembled, he held my hand to soothe me but it was him who needed to be soothed.

He was more angry than I was at the turn of events, and I almost swore that he had a score to settle with Ariana, which was why he made a plan to abduct her and kill her himself.

But my stupid brother once again stole the show.

How fucked up.

The good news was, I had secured extensively every evidence needed to frame my brother and his dearest friend for the crime I had orchestrated.

With the evidence that implicated my brother, I planned on using it to blackmail my father into doing my bidding.

And as for the evidence gathered against Maxwell, there was no going back—it was all meant to lead to his death.

I was sated. After all many years of suffering under the Rodriguez’s, I was finally beginning to see my victory.

I was winning.