Chapter 1

Lucia Alvarez

They say grief fades and time heals all wounds. But time has only sharpened mine into a weapon.

Five years.

Five years since my brother's body was pulled from the East River, his hands bound and lungs full of concrete.

Everyone ruled it a suicide but I never believed them.

It was a punishment. A cover-up.

And every day since then, I've lived with one purpose — get inside the Di Santi empire and destroy it from within.

I stood outside the tall glass building in midtown Manhattan, a trembling breath caught in my throat. The golden plaque read: Di Santi Holdings. A legitimate name but it was all a lie.

I pulled the collar of my coat higher and stepped inside.

The lobby was sleek — too sleek and everything a Mafia syndicate pretending to be corporate royalty should look like.

I wasn't here for the job. I was here for revenge.

"Miss Alvarez?" A woman with red lips and sharp heels approached. "Mr. Di Santi will see you now."

The name alone sent bile up my throat. Adrian Did Santi — heir to Di Santi empire. Cold-blooded and dangerous. I'd memorized his face in grainy newspaper cutouts, surveillance footage, and police files that never made it to trial.

And now... I'd see it in person.

As I followed the woman past the glass offices where silent watchers stood with heavy weapons, I felt the weight of every lie I was about to tell. My resume was fake, my name was barely mine.

The door to his office opened.

He was standing by the window, his back turned to me. And when he finally turned to look at me, I forgot how to breathe.

Adrian Di Santi looked like temptation. Dark suit. Darker eyes. And a gaze that cut through skin and bone.

"You're the new accountant?" His voice was venom wrapped in honey.

I nodded. "Lucia Alvarez."

He stared, like he was peeling me apart with his gaze layer by layer.

"I believe you know your job. I hate repeating myself." He growled, voice low and smooth.

I nodded, my jaw tight, "I know my job Mr. Di Santi."

He stared at me, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. And then, slowly, he said.

"Do you?"

He gestures to the seat in front of his desk, but I stay standing.

"You came highly recommended," he continued, reading from a file I knew was fake. "Fluent in four languages. Clean record. You could work anywhere. So why here?"

I met his gaze without blinking. "I love this company and I believe it needs skills like mine."

He smiled, one that didn't reach his eyes. The kind you saw when standing before a predator.

"I think you'll fit in just fine."

He closed the file and walked around the desk, stopping inches from me. I could feel the heat emanating from him, the scent of his cologne — Musk and vanilla, the weight of his stare, the pressure building in my chest like a ticking bomb.

"Tell me, Lucia..." He said my name slowly, like he was tasting it, testing how it sounded in his mouth. "Are you worthy of being trusted?"

I didn't answer.

Because no — I wasn't. I only came for revenge.

And yet... At that moment, with his breath brushing my cheek, I felt like giving up.

"You'll start immediately," he said, stepping back. "Report to Elsa for your credentials. And Lucia?"

"Yes?"

He looked at me like he could see through the secrets and lies.

"Don't think of playing games with me. Ever."

I nodded, my throat tight. "Understood."

He turned away, dismissing me without another word. I walked to the elevator like my legs were made of lead.

Only when the doors closed due I exhaled.

---

Downstairs, Elsa handed me a key card and a sleek phone. "Everything's tracked. Don't lose it. Your desk is in the private suite. You'll be working in Mr. Di Santi's shadow."

A chill ran down my spine. I was really playing a deadly game.

"Welcome to the family," she said without smiling.

That night, I returned to the apartment they'd provided. White. Clean. It reeked of luxury.

I pulled out the old box I kept hidden in my suitcase.

Inside were my brother's watch, still stained with his blood which had turned dark brown.  A photo of us from when we were kids and the journal.

His journal. The one that started it all. Pages filled with cryptic notes, strange dates, and one name scrawled again and again: Di Santi.

I opened it to the last entry.

"They promised me protection. I believed them. If anything happens to me, it wasn't an accident."

I closed the journal with a sigh, my mind reeling from different thoughts.

Now working Fri the man who killed him — or worse, the man my brother might have willingly died for.

That was the question that haunted me. The thing I'd never been able to prove.

Was Miguel a victim... Or a traitor?

A soft ping pulled me from my thoughts.

An encrypted message flashed across the burner phone hidden in the lining of my suitcase — the one Elsa gave to me earlier.

Unknown: You made it in. Good. We'll be watching. He doesn't trust easily.

Neither do I.

I typed one word back; Understood.

Then I locked the phone, closed the box, and stared out the window at the city.

Tomorrow, I'll return to Di Santi's side. Smile. Nod. Play the game.

But someday soon...

I'd bring his empire to its knees. Even if it meant burning myself with it.