BELLA'S POV

My hands didn't stop shaking even when I hit the highway.

All I could think about was what had happened.

I'm free. I'd done it. I'd fucking done it.

Finally. After all this time.

The smell of freedom is so soothing. Although I know it's not for long, I need to enjoy it all for now. I tried to avoid thinking about all that had happened in the past few years.

I want to think about the present, the future. What I could control, but it's impossible.

I stared at the passenger seat. The gun was still in the bag, the divorce papers too were there. I struggled to get those papers, it was tough. Thinking back at all that had happened, my eyes started to burn again.

Three years of planning. Six months of preparation. Weeks of practicing what I'd say, how I'd hold the gun, how I'd walk away without looking back.

And I did it. I actually did it.

I pressed harder on the gas, like putting distance between the penthouse and I could stop the tears. My vision blurred. I blinked hard, refusing to cry.

I can't cry now. I have won. I'm free.

This isn't winning. Not yet. This is just escape.

It's fine, Bella. You will pay him back in his own coin. He won't go scot-free. He will...

I couldn't anymore. I pulled over at a rest stop twenty miles outside Rome, my hands trembling so badly I could barely turn off the ignition.

It's better I let it all out. I didn't cry for so long. When my uncle and his wife died, I didn't shed a tear. When I found out about my husband's scheme, I was so composed that it scared me. I thought I was becoming emotionless. I read the evidence of my husband's betrayal over and over again like a newspaper, only that this is a crime scene that involves two sets of my parents.

Two families. Four people. All dead because of one man.

Everything depends on you now. Justice and revenge. I consoled myself. I always do.

Consoling myself is an art I mastered years ago.

The documents containing all of the evidence lay in the back seat. I picked them up again. Reading what I had read over and over.

My hands clenched. There it was, written in black and white.

They'd investigated Anthony and Elena. They started digging into them three years after I married Dante. It was a week after Anthony's visit. They were killed in broad daylight.

In just a week. One fucking week after this, the investigation was closed.

One week. Seven days to decide they deserved to die.

Coincidence? No. Dante didn't believe in coincidences. He never underestimated coincidence. Neither will I.

I flipped to the next page. Marco's signature closing the case.

Shutting my ears to blur out the memories and calm my trembling heart. It is fucking painful. I can't...

They fucking killed them and lied.

It is getting hard to breathe. I tugged at my blouse collar. I needed more air. Tears spilling uncontrollably. I couldn't stop it.

"Noooooooooo!" I screamed. Finally, I am letting it out. It had locked me in a cage for so long. Finally, I'm free.

"My husband...killed my parents. Both biological and foster parents." I repeated out loud. Maybe I can hear it differently. Or maybe to accept and remind myself of the justice I want.

Say it again. Make it real. Make it hurt.

Dante directly ordered the execution of my parents years ago, and he ordered the murder of my foster parents too. The job was so clean that no one could ever guess his involvement. However, he left a witness. The man who he contracted for the murder.

"My job was to shoot them during the commotion and flee the scene." The hitman confirmed it all. Orders came from Dante Caruso. Payment came from Caruso accounts.

Three years later, the same pattern began with Anthony and Elena. Same killer. Same organization. Same methods.

Dante Caruso murdered both sets of my parents.

The evidence was irrefutable.

Four lives. One monster.

Dante controlled more than half of my parents' territory now. Isn't that obvious? The reason he married me. For full control. Trying to make sure I don't break loose from his predatory claws.

I had known all of this without shedding a tear for years. Now I'm scared I might not stop till tomorrow.

Tugging my hair till it hurts. Maybe I would wake up.

Wake up, Bella. This isn't a nightmare. This is your life.

Anthony raised me. He worked himself to the bone at his restaurant to pay for my art school. He warned me about Dante from the beginning. I should have listened. Maybe he would still be alive.

"Stay away from that man, piccola. He'll destroy you."

I can hear his voice as clear as a bell.

Why didn't I listen? Why did I think love was stronger than his warnings?

He'd known.

And they'd killed him for it.

Dante killed my father. He killed him. He killed my mother. He killed Elena.

Repeating the crimes seemed to soothe me.

I chanted the mantra over and over, and after a while I was numb. My eyes were burning. I sat still staring at nothing. A few tears still trying to escape.

I hope they do, because after this, Bella Russo is dead.

She has to be. Only Isabella Sovereign can survive what comes next.

After hours of emotional breakdown, I got distracted by my phone buzzing. It was Dante.

Staring at the screen, I felt nothing. I calmly discarded the phone.

Let him call. Let him search. He won't find Bella Russo. She doesn't exist anymore.

When I said it's over, I'm not fucking playing.

I stared at the remaining documents, the ones I'd recovered from Anthony's basement.

My birth certificate.

My real name. My real family.

I'd found these documents hidden in Anthony's basement after he died three years ago. Then I still called him Papa.

Papa. The last time I said that word was at his funeral.

At first, I thought it was a mistake. Some bureaucratic error. I couldn't comprehend the fact that Anthony wasn't my father.

Then I found photos. A man holding me as a child. Dark hair and eyes just like mine. After several photos and pictures, I found out he was Alessandro Sovereign, and his wife, Marie Russo, strikingly similar to me in body proportion and facial structure.

The truth made me weak.

Everything I knew was a lie.

My entire existence was a plain white lie.

Twenty-five years of living someone else's life.

And Dante had known.

The investigation proved it. He'd married me knowing exactly who I was. Knowing my real parents were dead. Knowing he controlled the territories that should've been mine.

It was never about love.

It was always about power.

Every kiss was a lie. Every "I love you" was strategy. Every night in his bed was conquest.

But why did he let me leave that easily?

BELLA'S POV

I arrived in Sicily early the next morning. It smelled like salt and blood, just like I'd heard about.

This is where it all began. Where I was born. Where my real family died.

I stood at the gates of the Sovereign estate. Or what was left of it. And felt my past pressing against my skin.

Years ago, I was born in this house. And it had died with my parents.

The estate looked like a corpse. You could tell how vibrant and magnificent this place once was. But now the walls were crumbling. Gardens wild and overgrown. Windows shattered.

But the gates still stood. Wrought iron twisted into an elaborate S.

Sovereign.

My name. The thought made my heart skip a beat.

I'm back home. Exactly where I belong.

I pushed through the gates and walked toward the main building. Each step echoing. Several thoughts running through my mind as I looked around.

I needed to find someone. Anyone. I knew they were around here somewhere.

After wandering for an hour, they found me.

Three men. Armed to the teeth. Watching me suspiciously.

The oldest stepped forward. Gun lowered but ready.

"You're trespassing."

"No." I stood straighter.

"I belong here."

Say it. Make them believe it.

The men looked at me like I'd suddenly grown horns.

"My name is Isabella Marie Sovereign. Alessandro Sovereign was my father. This is my family's land."

The men stared at me for a moment. Then burst into laughter.

I'd expected this. I knew they would need proof.

"Alessandro's daughter died with him," the oldest man said.

"Everyone knows that."

"Everyone's wrong." I pulled out the documents from Anthony's basement. The ones I'd carefully arranged.

"Anthony Russo took care of me. I was given to him as a child to keep me safe. Now I'm here to claim what's mine."

The oldest man took the documents. His hands started shaking as he read.

"Dio mio," he whispered.

"The eyes. You have his eyes."

"I have more than his eyes." I stepped closer.

"I have his name. His blood." I looked at each of them.

"And I need soldiers. Are you interested? Or does your loyalty belong somewhere else?"

The men exchanged glances. Some silent communication I didn't understand.

Finally, the oldest knelt.

"Tommaso Ricci, Lady Sovereign. I served your father for twenty years." His voice broke.

"I was there that night. The night we lost everything."

"Then help me take it back."

First mission accomplished.

They brought me to their safehouse. A warehouse on the edge of Palermo. Filled with men who'd been hiding in shadows for fifteen years.

"How many?" I asked Tommaso.

"Forty-three men. Some women. Children of soldiers who died."

"We've been waiting, Lady Sovereign. Fifteen years. Hoping the heir Alessandro mentioned was real."

"We were hunted after Alessandro's death," he paused, "by Don Caruso."

My hands fisted. My jaw clenched.

Of course. Dante again. Always Dante.

"Don Caruso is my ex-husband," I said quietly.

The room went completely silent.

I told them everything. The marriage. The lies. Finding the truth. The divorce at gunpoint.

"I'm here to avenge my family," I concluded.

Tommaso was quiet for a long moment. Then he spoke.

"We had nothing to fight for before. Now we have direction. We will fight for you, Lady Sovereign."

The room erupted. Men shouting their loyalty. Pounding fists on tables.

I felt something shift inside me. Something cold and hard settling into place.

This is real. This is happening.

"We thought Anthony didn't survive," Tommaso said.

"We never heard from him after everything died down."

Hearing Anthony's name brought the pain back. Sharp and fresh.

He knew who I was. Who Dante was. And I ignored his warnings until it was too late.

I remembered Anthony's body in the river. Elena's remains found years later.

How dare Dante. How dare he take everyone I loved.

"Who ordered the hit?" I asked. My voice barely steady.

"Who killed my family?"

Tommaso leaned forward.

"It was blamed on the Vitales. Lorenzo Vitale's son supposedly led the attack. But the real orchestrator was obvious. Someone who benefited when Sovereign territories became available."

"The Carusos controlled the territories after. Right?"

Tommaso nodded.

"Within months of your family's death, Caruso moved in. Claimed the territories were abandoned. That they were maintaining order." He spat.

"Maintaining order by dancing on graves."

I stood. My legs unsteady.

I made the right decision leaving. At least I made one good decision in my life.

"What do you need from us?" Tommaso asked.

"Everything." I turned to face all the men in the room.

"Teach me everything I need to know. I'm a Sovereign by blood. Now I need to become one by skill. I need to take back what was stolen from us."

"And Dante Caruso?"

"I'm going to destroy him." My voice was ice.

"Piece by piece. Everything he built on my family's blood, I'm going to burn to the ground."

The room erupted again. Louder this time. Men pledging loyalty. Swearing vengeance.

I stood there feeling my old life die. And something new rising from the ashes.

Bella Russo is dead. Long live Isabella Sovereign.

That night, I stood on the balcony overlooking Palermo. A city my father once controlled.

My city. My birthright. Stolen by the man I married.

Tommaso appeared beside me.

"Tell me about them," I said.

"My parents."

He sighed. The silence stretched long.

"Tomorrow. Not tonight. You should rest."

He paused.

"It won't be easy, Lady Sovereign. Becoming who you need to be. It requires sacrifice."

"I've already sacrificed everything."

"No." He looked at me with sad eyes.

"Not yet. But you will."

He walked away, leaving me alone. Watching the city sparkle below.

The war has started. And I'm changing.

I just hoped when this was over, when I'd burned down everything Dante built and stood victorious in the ashes, I'd still recognize the woman in the mirror.

But I'm willing to risk it. Even if I die trying.

My phone buzzed again. Dante calling. Again.

I turned it off.

Let him search. Let him worry. Let him wonder what happened to his sweet, obedient Bella.

He wouldn't find her. She didn't exist anymore.

Tomorrow, the real work would begin. Training. Planning. Building an army.

But tonight, I allowed myself one moment. One breath. One last look at the scared girl I used to be.

Then I'll let her go.

And became someone new.

Someone dangerous.

Someone who would make Dante Caruso regret the day he decided to marry Alessandro Sovereign's daughter.

I'm coming for you, Dante. And when I'm done, you'll wish you'd killed me too.

BELLA'S POV

Tommaso woke me early the next morning for breakfast.

My body ached. The mattress here was nothing like the one in Dante's penthouse. But I'd slept better than I had in months.

No nightmares. No waking up next to a monster.

The coffee Tommaso brought tasted bitter. Like ash. But I drank it anyway.

He sat across from me. Placed a worn leather journal between us.

"Your father's," he said quietly.

I stared at the initials burned into the cover. A.S. Alessandro Sovereign.

My father. A man I never got to know.

My chest tightened. I wanted to touch it. Hold it. But I was afraid.

"Tell me about the night they died." My voice came out steadier than I felt.

"Everything. Don't leave anything out."

Tommaso studied me for a long moment. Like he was deciding something.

Then he poured himself more coffee. The silence stretched. Only the sound of liquid hitting the cup.

Finally, he spoke.

"It was supposed to be a peace summit."

Peace?, In the mafia?, Right.

"Your father and Lorenzo Vitale had been at war for years. Territorial disputes. Shipping routes. The usual bullshit." He paused.

"The fighting wasn't good for either family. So Alessandro suggested they meet. Neutral ground. An old monastery outside Palermo."

"Your father didn't trust it." Tommaso opened the journal carefully. Like it was sacred.

"But he went anyway. Because he'd given his word."

A gentleman. Even in a world of monsters.

"He brought twenty men. I was supposed to go. But my wife had an emergency that night. So I stayed behind." His jaw clenched.

"Lorenzo brought his son Nico and thirty men. They just wanted the bloodshed to end."

"What happened?"

Instead of answering, Tommaso pulled photos from inside the journal.

Bodies. So many bodies.

Blood pooling on ancient stone floors. Bullet holes in walls that had stood for centuries. A massacre in a holy place.

I couldn't look away.

This is what Dante built his empire on. This blood.

"They said the Vitales opened fire first," Tommaso said quietly.

"But look closer."

I forced myself to study the photos. Bodies wearing different colors. Different families.

All dead.

"Both sides were slaughtered," I whispered.

"Including Nico Vitale. Lorenzo's only son." Tommaso pointed to a young man's body. Face frozen in shock.

"If the Vitales planned an ambush, why kill Lorenzo's heir?"

The question hung in the air.

"It doesn't make sense," I said slowly.

"No. It doesn't." Tommaso leaned back. Something dark crossed his face.

"But here's what does make sense. Within three months, Dante Caruso had claimed both Sovereign and Vitale territories. While both families were bleeding and broken, he swept in like a savior. Restoring order, he called it."

My hands tightened on the cup until my knuckles went white.

Of course. Of course it was him.

"I can't prove it. Never could. But I know Dante orchestrated it."

He turned pages in the journal.

"Your father wrote this two days before the meeting. It was meant for Anthony, but he never got it."

I leaned forward. Reading my father's handwriting for the first time.

Meeting with Vitale feels wrong. Caruso's silence is suspicious. If anything happens, protect Isabella at all cost.

The words blurred.

He knew. He suspected. And he went anyway because his word mattered more than his life.

I was thirteen when he died. Living with Anthony. Completely unaware that my real parents were walking into a trap.

"Who investigated?" I asked. My voice barely steady.

"The Carusos offered to lead it personally." Tommaso's laugh was bitter.

"Said they'd find justice for both families. Three months later, the case was closed. Blamed on the Vitales. Matter settled. Meanwhile, Dante had already absorbed both territories."

He pulled out more documents.

"Payments from Caruso accounts," Tommaso said.

"Dated two weeks before the massacre. To suspicious accounts."

I studied the papers. Multiple transactions. Carefully coded but traceable if you knew what to look for.

"Who authorized these?"

"Marco Salvatore." Tommaso's finger found the signature.

"Giovanni's right hand back then. Now Dante's right hand. Convenient, isn't it?"

Marco.

He was always there. Always in the background. Always in control.

Marco couldn't move money without approval. Which meant Dante knew. Dante authorized it.

Dante ordered it.

Tommaso's expression shifted.

"Dante took over the family business at seventeen. Right after Giovanni died of a convenient heart attack. The massacre happened a few weeks later."

"You think Dante killed his own father?"

"I think a seventeen-year-old boy inherited an empire built on blood." Tommaso met my eyes.

"His father died. Then he eliminated all threats in one night. Convenient coincidence, don't you think?"

Kill the competition. Take the power. Rule the city.

There was no difference between Dante and his father. Just a younger monster wearing a better suit.

Dante had lived in luxury built on my family's corpse. Had controlled my father's ports. Used my father's alliances. Ruled my father's territories.

For fifteen years.

I stood abruptly. The chair scraped against concrete. I walked to the window overlooking Palermo.

My city. My birthright. Built on my family's blood.

Behind me, Tommaso waited.

"My parents wanted a normal life for me." My voice broke.

"Yes. A normal life." His voice was gentle.

"That's why your mother gave you to Anthony at birth. She wanted you safe. Away from blood and violence."

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.

They wanted me safe. And I married the man who killed them.

"But I'm here now."

I turned to face him.

"I want everything they took. Every territory. Every alliance. Every piece of power they built on my family's bones."

Tommaso smiled. Proud.

"Training starts today. Hope you're ready to become what you were born to be."

"I'm ready."

More than ready. I've been ready since I found those documents.

After he left, I stood at the window. Looking at my reflection in the dark glass.

A stranger looked back. Someone harder. Colder.

Bella was too soft. Too trusting. Isabella needs to be steel.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

Tommaso entered without waiting. His face grim.

"We have a problem." He tossed an envelope onto the table.

I opened it with shaking hands.

Inside was a single photograph.

Two young men in their mid-twenties. Laughing together at a bar. One I didn't recognize. The other had my father's eyes. My father's smile.

Who is this?

I flipped it over.

Written on the back in red ink: An eye for an eye. Your father killed my heir. I will kill his.

My throat went dry.

"Who sent this?"

Tommaso's jaw clenched.

"Lorenzo Vitale. He's still alive. Still grieving his son." He paused.

"And he thinks you're responsible."

No. No no no.

"That's what you need to understand. You're not just fighting the Carusos anymore."

I looked back at the photo. At the young man with my father's smile.

"Who is he?"

Tommaso's silence was answer enough.

I have family. Living family. And Lorenzo wants them dead.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"This man in the photo."

"Safe. For now. But Lorenzo has eyes everywhere. If he finds out you've resurfaced, if he connects you to Alessandro..."

"He'll kill anyone with Sovereign blood."

"Yes."

I set the photo down carefully. My hands steady despite the fear crawling up my spine.

This is what I signed up for. This is the price of revenge.

"Then we move faster," I said.

"Train harder. Strike before Lorenzo does."

"And Dante?"

I looked at Tommaso. At this man who'd served my father. Who'd waited fifteen years for someone to rise from the ashes.

"Dante will learn what it means to take something that doesn't belong to him." My voice was ice.

"And when I'm done, he'll beg for the mercy he never showed my family."

The war has three fronts now. Dante. Marco. And Lorenzo.

But I was Alessandro Sovereign's daughter.

And I would burn them all.