Alma’s POV I hear everything. From the moment Charles picks up that call, I know it’s important from the way he speaks. I stay quiet, pressing my back against the bedrest, as my ears tuned in to every syllable. And what I hear makes my stomach drop.Davida invited Ricardo Borrelli to his daughter’s birthday. The same birthday party Davida invited me and Charles to. What the hell?I must have heard wrong. There’s no way Davida would do something so reckless. But then Charles says it himself. "Davida wants Ricardo at his daughter’s twentieth." He mutters.Shit. I did hear right. It’s real. It’s happening. And there’s no fucking way I’m going. If Ricardo sees me with Charles, I’m dead. Worse, he’ll find my mother, and I know what that man is capable of. I can’t let that happen. But first, I need to be sure.I stand up from the bed and walk towards Charles. My hands move to his shoulders, massaging it. His body is rigid and his mind is obviously miles away."What’s going on?" I ask, ke
Ricardo’s POVI lean back in the leather seat of my car as my fingers tap absently against my knee. Davida Gonzalez had just handed me an opportunity to teach Lana her biggest lesson ever, and I never let an opportunity go to waste. Initially, I had planned to spend the night drinking or watching strippers, anything to distract myself from the presence of Lana in my hotel suite. But now? Now I have a much better idea. "Take me to the shopping mall," I instruct my driver. When we arrive, I walk through the luxury boutique with my eyes scanning the racks of dresses. I am not looking for elegance, I am looking for control. And I find it in a black silk outfit that barely counted as a dress. It has thin straps crisscrossing over the back, leaving most of the skin exposed. The neckline is scandalously low, and the hem barely covers enough to be considered decent. I smirk, running my fingers over the expensive material. Lana will hate this, which means she will fight wearing it, and
Ricardo’s POVI lean back in the leather seat of my car as my fingers tap absently against my knee. Davida Gonzalez had just handed me an opportunity to teach Lana her biggest lesson ever, and I never let an opportunity go to waste. Initially, I had planned to spend the night drinking or watching strippers, anything to distract myself from the presence of Lana in my hotel suite. But now? Now I have a much better idea. "Take me to the shopping mall," I instruct my driver. When we arrive, I walk through the luxury boutique with my eyes scanning the racks of dresses. I am not looking for elegance, I am looking for control. And I find it in a black silk outfit that barely counted as a dress. It has thin straps crisscrossing over the back, leaving most of the skin exposed. The neckline is scandalously low, and the hem barely covers enough to be considered decent. I smirk, running my fingers over the expensive material. Lana will hate this, which means she will fight wearing it, and
Charles’ POV I am on my way to Davida’s mansion with a boxed gift at the back of the car. The driver drives smoothly while I rest my arm on the door. My thoughts are about Alma. She seemed like she was excited to go for Maria’s birthday with me. So why the hell did she suddenly decide to sit this one out? It doesn’t sit right with me, but I shake the thought off. Right now, I have to focus. As we pull up to the massive gates of Davida’s estate, a security guard steps forward and raps his knuckles against my tinted window. I roll it down, preparing to introduce myself, but before I can even get a word out, the guy's eyes widen in recognition. “Welcome, golden cop,” he says with a smirk. I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head. Then, the guard signals to the men behind the gate, and within seconds, the massive gates swing open. The driver drives in, and I take in the scene before me; luxury cars lined up neatly, expensive suits and glittering dresses everywhere. I step out o
Lana’s POV I hate this. Every second of it.The huge mansion, the strange faces, this dress, but what I hate most is standing here, holding hands with him; Ricardo Borrelli. His grip on me is firm and possessive, like I’m something he owns. I want to rip my hands away, but I know better. He’d make me pay for it later.As we step through the grand entrance, I swallow hard. The scene before me is overwhelming; young boys and girls, all dancing and having fun.My eyes move upward, landing on a massive neon balloon hanging in the center of the room: Bienvenidos a Maria, and then, underneath in gold cursive: 20th.I freeze. My fingers slowly tighten around Ricardo’s arm as the realization settles. Holy fuck.I whip my head towards him and whisper with anger. “You invited me to a twenty-year-old’s birthday party—dressed like this?” I gesture at myself, at the barely-there excuse of a dress he forced me into, the one that leaves little to the imagination. “Like some slut?”Ricardo doesn’t a
Charles’s POVI step out of the restroom, rolling my sleeves as I make my way back to the main floor. The music still plays, but the atmosphere in the room has changed. People stand around awkwardly, some swaying half-heartedly, others just frozen in place like they aren’t sure whether to keep dancing or wait for something to happen. I shake my head, stunned, until my eyes land on Señor Davida González. Unlike the others, he isn’t just confused; he looks shattered. His hands are clenched into fists, and his shoulders are rigid. Fury and grief is plastered on his face. The sight of him like that makes my stomach drop. I walk through the crowd, heading straight for him. "Where’s Maria?" I demand the second I reach him. Davida exhales. “Ricardo… he took her upstairs.” My hands find my waist as I sigh disappointedly. I had missed the chance to see that motherfucker. Shit. This isn’t good. “What happened?” I ask.Davida turns to me. “Did I make the right decision, Charles?” Hi
Ricardo’s POVI press the phone to my ear. “This better be good, Angelo. I was in the middle of something.” “It’s getting late,” my younger brother mutters. “I’m running out of things to tell Antonella.” Shit. I run a hand through my hair, realizing I completely forgot about them. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’ll send you an address. You both can start coming.” There’s a pause before Angelo says, “Brother, anything that would make Antonella flip out—get rid of it.” I scoff. “Since when do you care so much about my girlfriend’s feelings?” I say coldly. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours.” Angelo exhales. “I didn’t mean it like that brother. And you know that.” “I don’t care if you meant it like that or not. Just stop caring.” I hang up, send the address, and then step out of the bathroom. The sight in front of me brings me to a halt. Lana and Maria are sitting together, huddled close. Maria’s eyes are puffy, with tears running down her cheeks, while Lana strokes her hair, whispering
Ricardo’s POV I stand face to face with Antonella, with my cheek still stinging from the slap she just delivered in front of everyone. My hand rests on my face, then I let it down as I run my tongue along the inside of my lower lip. Antonella’s eyes are filled with fury, and her chest heaves. She’s not done. She’s going to slap me again, and she’s not going to care. From the corner of my eye, I see Angelo sigh deeply. He doesn’t say a word, just gives me that I told you so look. I step closer to Antonella until I’m inches from her. "You hit me in public?" I say with a low aggravated voice.Her nostrils flare. "Yes," she spits, "and I will fucking do it again if I have to." My jaw clenches. The urge to retaliate crosses my mind but I hold myself back. Then her voice changes, it softens. "The kids have been waiting for you to come home," she whispers. "I have been waiting for you to come home." Her voice trembles with pain. "But you’re here. In Mexico. For some twenty-year-ol
Ricardo’s POVThe morning sunlight barely rose when I slide out of bed. Antonella is still asleep, tangled in the silk sheets, with her mouth slightly parted, and one arm stretched towards where I used to be. I don’t look back. I leave the house before the rest of the estate fully wakes. The guards outside are already alert. A few guards nod as I pass by, murmuring “sir,” but I give them nothing. My driver, a scrawny man with jittery eyes, pulls up just in time.“Sir,” he says breathlessly, stepping out of the car. “I came as soon as I could.”“Good,” I reply, already heading for the vehicle. “I need you to drive me somewhere.”“Where to, sir?”“My secret mansion.”He gives a tight nod. “Alright, sir,” and moves quickly to ready the car.Before I can reach it, one of the security guards rushes up to me, holding something out. An envelope. His face is pale, like he’s unsure if he should even be handing it to me.“Sir,” he calls out, slowing as he reaches me. “This was dropped at the f
Ricardo’s POVThe moment I step through the front doors of my mansion, I hear small noises, and the place is properly lit. Then, a soft pitter-patter races down the hallway.“Papà!”Gianna’s voice rings out before I even see her. She comes flying into my arms like a bullet wrapped in pink silk pajamas. I crouch slightly, catching her mid-air, lifting her high above my head.“There’s my Gianna,” I say, twirling her once.Her laughter fills the foyer, and for a brief second, everything ugly fades away. I pull her close, hugging her tight.Antonella watches from the archway, with her arms crossed, and her brows arched like daggers. She scoffs under her breath, loud enough to make her presence known.Then, the grandfather clock chimes eight times. “Alright, baby,” Antonella says, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. “Bedtime. Off you go with Rosa.”Gianna’s face falls. “But I don’t wanna go to bed early…”I kneel slightly and smooth her hair back. “Oh, sweetheart,” I say gently. “I un
Charles' POVI toss my keys onto the marble counter and walk straight to the bedroom, not even bothering to take off my shoes. My body feels like deadweight, but it’s not just physical exhaustion, it’s everything else.Alma didn’t follow me back to the condo. I didn’t ask her to. She wouldn’t understand anyway. Not this.I drop onto the bed, with limbs heavy with fatigue, and my back flat against the mattress. The ceiling above me stares back blankly, just as silent as the thoughts swirling in my head. I can't stop replaying it, Lana. Her face when she looked at me. The embarrassment, fear and shame in her eyes. I need to get her out of that monster’s grip.No one would get it. Not Alma, no one. Only I know why I need to get Lana away from that monster. And it’s not even about her being my secret weapon. That bastard touched my tail the day he had me suspended from the force and smeared my name. He thought he won. But he hasn’t.I close my eyes. No—he won’t.I’ll get Lana back. I’ll
Ricardo’s POVThe private restaurant’s half-empty. I spot Angelo tucked in the far corner, already seated with a half-full glass of red wine in front of him. His shoulders are relaxed, too relaxed, which tells me something's up. I slide into the seat across from him and clear my throat. “What’s the matter?” Angelo raises a brow and smirks sarcastically. “Hello, brother. Thank you for asking how I’m doing this fine afternoon. I’m great, how are you doing?” I chuckle. “Oh, come on, Angelo. We just saw each other in Mexico. Do you really need me to roll out the pleasantries every time?” He shrugs and mutters, “No, but you could stop acting like the world’s ending every time we meet.” I shake my head. “Oh come on brother, isn’t the world already ending?” I give him a smirk, then I continue. “What’s the matter?” Angelo takes a slow sip from his glass before setting it down. “You remember that guy I told you about? The one that’s been following me?” “Yeah,” I nod. “You finally
Ricardo’s POVI finally get myself together. The dull pain in my groin reminds me that Antonella has no limits when she’s pissed. I straighten my blazer, wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb, and step out of the car.I step through the front doors, and the first sight that greets me isn’t one I expect. Antonella is seated on the couch, holding Isabella in her arms; our youngest, sleeping peacefully like she has no idea her parents are inches away from destruction.Beside her stands the maid, looking awkward as hell, and across the room, standing near the staircase, is Gianna. My Gigi.She doesn’t run to me. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t light up like she usually does. She just stares at me with those big eyes like she’s looking at a complete stranger.Something inside me snaps quietly. Antonella’s eyes find mine, and her stare says everything. Of course. Of course this is happening. Of course my daughter looks at me like she doesn’t know me.Antonella’s gaze is full of disdain, a silent
Angelo’s POVThe warehouse smells like rust and old blood. It always does. This is the same warehouse where I kept the guy who murdered our loan shark. Back when he was crying about keeping all his fingers. I step inside to see him already waiting, shifting on his feet like he is standing on hot coals. He gives a weak smile when he sees me, then straightens up and puffs out his chest like it would help.“Mr. Angelo,” he says,with his hands twitching nervously. “I—uh—I did what you said.”I cross my arms. “Go on.”He pulls a folder from his coat and hands it over. “You asked me to multiply by five half of the 570 million. I turned that into 855 million.”I flip through the file. Numbers, transfers, dummy corporations. The man has done his homework. I whistle low. “You tripled it.”He nods whilst swallowing hard. “Yes, sir. I—uh—wanted to impress you.”I look up, smirking. “You did good, man. But it’s not enough.”His face drops like I had slapped him. “I—I know. I know,” he stammers.
Charles’s POVWe’re in the car, heading to the airport. My thoughts have been looping, clawing at the same image. Lana with Ricardo Borrelli, dressed like a slut.Alma speaks first. “I still can’t believe you saw Lana with Ricardo.”I shake my head. “I still can’t believe it myself. A part of me hates myself, Alma. For being so fucking lackadaisical in the search for her. I should’ve put in more effort. I should’ve known she was with the enemy.”Alma reaches across the seat and rubs my shoulder gently, like I’m some wounded animal. “It’s not your fault. You wouldn’t have known. No one would have guessed.”I lean into the headrest, staring out at the traffic like it’ll give me answers. “I should’ve. You know, if Davida’s men hadn’t screwed up, if those bullets had gone through that door like they were supposed to, Lana would’ve been dead. Gone. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”“But she’s not,” Alma says quickly. “She’s alive.”“You don’t get it,” I snap. “And I’m not ready
Angelo’s POVThe next morning, Lana and I drive in silence. The kind of silence that isn’t peaceful, just filled with everything neither of us wants to say first.I keep my eyes on the road. The jet isn’t far now. Twenty minutes, give or take. After that, I don’t know what comes next. Hell, maybe I don’t want to.She is the one to break it, the silence. Of course she is.“What are you gonna do?” Her voice is soft.I don’t answer.“What’s your brother planning?”I suck my teeth, annoyed, and keep my eyes forward. She doesn’t back down.“Please, Angelo,” she says, “tell me. I heard him last night, talking to that cop guy—Charles. He told him to let Señor Davida know he owes him. And he wasn’t talking about money.”Still, I say nothing. Her voice is starting to grate, and not because it is loud but because it is right.“You already know what he’s gonna do,” I mutter.“No,” she says firmly, “I don’t.”I tighten my grip on the wheel. “He’s going to kill someone.”The car goes even quieter,
Charles’s POVAs I walk through the foyer of Señor Davida’s mansion, my mind is on a spiral. My hands clench at my sides, and my jaw aches from how tight I’m holding it. Lana’s alive.All this time, she’s alive and well. And Ricardo fucking Borrelli has her. After all this time, the worry, the guilt… she’s been alive. For months. Months that I could’ve had her back. Months that that bastard Ricardo Borrelli had her.I feel sick. I don’t even want to imagine what he’s done to her. He’s got her dressed up like a slut, parading her around like a possession, calling her his slut like she’s nothing more than a goddamn toy.That image of Ricardo touching her, owning her, breaking her, it makes me want to kill something. I wonder how many times Ricardo has fucked her. How many times he’s laid claim to what was never his to take.I am pissed. How the fuck did Ricardo get his hands on Lana? There was no way, no fucking way, Ricardo could’ve linked Lana to what happened to him. I was careful. I