Brinda's POV

The city lights blurred past the taxi window like fading memories I didn’t want to remember. My fingers tapped against my thighs, restless, my breath shallow.

Each turn of the tires brought me closer to a place I had buried—the club. The place I had once called survival. The place I had promised never to return to.

But desperation doesn’t ask for permission. It just drags you by the throat.

My stomach twisted, a cocktail of shame and dread. My heart pounded against my ribs, not in fear, but in a sick rhythm of remembrance—The music, the smoke, and the hands that reached for me in the dark.

I had walked away from all of it. Yet here I was, willingly crawling back. Not for myself but for the woman who gave everything for me to have a better life.

But I couldn’t stop the way my hands trembled, how every breath felt like glass scraping my lungs. I wasn’t just heading to a club—I was walking into my past, into every piece of myself I swore I would outgrow.

And I was scared that it would recognize me… and welcome me home.

The taxi came to a sudden halt, jerking my body forward. I looked through the window and saw the familiar building.

While I attended college, I worked part time at the club and was able to make some money but how the hell will I make over twenty thousand dollars in seventy hours?

Impossible!

I paid the driver, alighted from the taxi and made my way into the club, still dressed in my scrub. I tried my best to avoid the lustful gaze of men in the club but it didn't take work. Their eyes were all on me but I was pretty less concerned.

Since I knew the way to Mr. Donald's room, I didn't wait for anyone. I darted towards his door. His guards stopped me for some time and they later allowed me in as if they had expected my arrival.

Entering the room, I met him taking a nap on the sofa. On his desk were some items as well as a knife. He always had that with him. A smirk played on my lips before I tapped him gently on his shoulder. His eyes flipped open slowly.

He tilted his head. And as soon as he saw me, a smile spread across his lips. “See who we have here? Isn't it nice to see Brinda Virginia again?”

I let out a sigh while I walked to the sofa opposite him. “Can I get my job back?” I requested politely.

“You left voluntarily,” he said, eyes scanning me like a commodity. “What happened, princess? Reality hit you too hard?”

“I don’t need a lecture,” I replied through clenched teeth. “I just need the job.”

“The floor is all yours.” He chimed, his eyes glinting with satisfaction before he returned to his nap.

I waggled my eyebrow, thinking about why Donald would have agreed quickly. He had always been a stubborn headed man.

Could there be a reason? Whatever the reason may be, I have to save my mother first.

A few minutes later, his brother, Desmond, came into the room and Donald ordered that he take me out to change my dress.

As we entered the dressing room, I could feel the eyes of my fellow dancers—male and female—staring, their judgment heavy in the air. I didn’t flinch, but inside, the humiliation was a quiet storm.

From a nurse to a stripper. How had I fallen so far?

I opened my locker. My heart raced faster as my eyes came in contact with the purse that contained five hundred dollars I had kept in my locker a day before I left the clubhouse.

What a bright idea to come back here.

I looked away and started dressing up, hoping to get it after I was done stripping.

Every girl dreams of a loving family, but I was abandoned by mine. If someone ever asked what my parents looked like, I would have no answer.

I don’t even carry their name. My identity—my whole life—was stolen from me. Instead, I became ‘Brinda Virginia,’ an orphan with no place to call home.

If only…

Desmond's harsh voice snapped me from my thoughts. “How long are you going to take to get dressed? Do you think you're at the fucking hospital you work at?” His growl made my pulse quicken. “I don't know why you're back but if you're here to cause any sort of trouble, I’ll pluck your eyes out.”

I shot him a deadly glare but I couldn’t afford to make him wait. I threw on the tight black skirt, my skin prickling with self-consciousness as I struggled to keep my dignity intact but for how long?

With the mirror as my only witness, I took in my reflection—long white hair, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a nose that was delicate, full red lips, dimpled cheeks, and a baby face that didn’t belong in a place like this.

Of course, it doesn't but behind lies secrets that shouldn't be unraveled.

I followed Desmond out and when we stepped into the dark, smoky room, the noise and heat hit me like a freight train. My heart skipped—What if one of them had been one of my patients? What would they think of me after I had turned down several advances in a short time?

But there was no time for regrets. I had seventy-two hours to save my dying mother. That’s all that mattered.

“Entertain them well.” Desmond patted my shoulder and left.

Quickly, I made my way to the podium, breathless. My face clouded with mixed emotions. I surveyed the faces in the room, though I couldn't see some of them because of the dim light.

However, my eyes locked on a man who stood out—He was dressed in black, wearing a mask that hid his features. My eyes scanned his features and my mouth opened slightly while my breath quickened.

Why?

His posture only reminds me of a bastard I once knew.

Three hulking guards flanked him, their presence an unmistakable sign of his wealth and power. If I could catch his attention, maybe I could secure a bigger tip—perhaps even more.

As the heavy beat pulsed through the speakers and the red lights bathed the stage in shadows and temptation, I stepped into the spotlight like I was stepping into a memory—one I had buried a month ago.

My fingers brushed through my hair, slow and deliberate, lifting it from my shoulders before letting it fall in a cascade down my back.

I took a step forward—my hips rolled with a sensual rhythm while my arms swayed like silk ribbons. The warm air licked my bare skin, but the fire within me burned hotter with every beat.

The music guided me as if it had been written for my bones. I twirled slowly, deliberately, letting the ends of my hair fan outward. My hands traced the curve of my waist, down to my thighs, dragging the audience’s attention like a magnet.

Of course, a woman's perfect spot to lure men in.

I turned and gave them my back, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, knowing full well the tease I was creating. My fingers slid up the gleaming silver pole. I wrapped one leg around it, the other extending into a graceful line before I spun— my hair swirling like wildfire, limbs fluid and untamed.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of whistles and applause. A man in the front row leaned forward, his drink forgotten in his hand, his eyes wide as if I’d just pulled him into a dream he didn’t know he wanted.

I locked eyes with him and dipped low, letting my hips roll slow and deliberate, my gaze burning into his soul like a silent dare. The audience wasn’t just watching me—they were devouring me.

And I gave myself to the moment.

My movements grew bolder after some graceful splits. My chest rose and fell in time with the music, breathless and commanding. I wasn’t just dancing.

I was reclaiming something.

And then, in a single fluid motion, I spun, presenting my back to the crowd as I wrapped myself around the pole.

My chest heaved, my breath coming in sharp, measured gasps. The audience cheered, their applause ringing in my ears like an affirmation of everything I had to offer.

Then, Desmond stormed in, shooing the crowd out silently. I was still in a daze when I noticed the masked man stood and strode toward the podium. His guards wheeled a sofa closer, and he settled into it, crossing his legs with deliberate calm.

“Strip,” he commanded, his voice smooth, yet chilling. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep dancing. My body moved in slow, sensual waves, though every second felt like a punishment. I danced for what felt like hours—twenty minutes, but it dragged like an eternity. The longest I had danced.

Then, his voice sliced through the tension, “Damsel.” The Italian accent barely veiled his distaste but the voice… It's familiar, right?

“It didn't really grab me, and it feels like you were holding back. This isn't what I was looking for, so… no pay.”

The words hit like a slap. “What? You can't do that!” I exploded, my voice sharp with frustration.

He smirked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. His left hand tucked into his pocket, and my heart raced as he ascended the podium. Before I could react, his hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. His fingers gripped my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

And then… He spanked me.

My palm burned before it connected with his cheek, the slap, very satisfying. “Watch it,” I hissed. “Don’t you know the rules here?”

His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you treat me to the rules?” His hand reached for my face, but I swatted it away.

“Next time, I’ll make it two slaps,” I warned, the venom in my words matching the fire in my veins.

I turned, only to see Donald smirking at the door, rubbing his protruding belly.

“You can't talk to our client like that? Where are your manners?” He scolded.

Wow! Well planned. He saw the masked man go against the rule and he said nothing? This is insane.

“It's against the rule, Mr. Donald.”

“Whoever made a rule can bend it.” He replied, before he walked out of the room.

“You will come running to my feet, Damsel. I will be your saviour. Take it or leave it.” The masked man said, his gaze boring into mine.

“Over my dead body.” I forbid it then I yanked his hands off my body before I burst into Mr. Donald’s office.

My fury subsided as my eyes scanned the bundles of cash on the table. Donald had a huge smile on his face as he paid the other strippers. “That's double your payment.” He laughed. The other strippers had barely left the room when I approached him, determined to get a double payment too.

“Can I get mine too?” I asked, scanning the bundles of cash.

“The client said you won't receive any payment until he’s fully satisfied.” He retorted and before I could respond, he pulled out a card with a black rose printed on it and shoved it in my face. “That's all you can get.”

My heart skipped a bit. The black rose. The other past I was trying so hard to run from. It's… it's… Not now, at least. Is the masked man from… No, no, it can't be.

He sank into the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. “Get the hell out of my sight.”

The words felt like a slap to the face but my eyes narrowed to the left and caught the knife I saw earlier, I returned my eyes to his direction and saw him lost in the money on the table.

I picked the knife. Swiftly, I got behind him and placed the knife on his neck.

“If you kill me now, that doesn't guarantee your mother will survive. Choose wisely.” Mr. Donald called gently.

So, they've been watching me. He knew what was going on in my life. “Pay me right away or die.” I trailed the knife across his neck and his body trembled.

“Should we… we strike a deal instead?” He asked.

“What deal?” I questioned, my voice stern and cold.

“I will pay for your mother's treatment and in return, you will follow the masked man.” He answered, closing his eyes.

Follow the masked man? Do they work together? Hell no! What is he playing at?

My grip on the knife softened before I dropped it. I can't kill anyone. I can't kill anymore. I had better let the past stay in the past.

I hissed then I kicked the sofa hard before I left the room but not after dropping a warning for him, “First thing tomorrow morning, I want my pay.

I ran to the dressing room immediately and opened my locker to retrieve the money, at least, that would work as a deposit. But… The cupboard was empty. Nothing was in it except my scrubs. My last hope was gone.

Isn't this the beginning of my ruin?

$Chapter

Brinda's POV

I didn’t know how I got back to the hospital. One moment, I was leaving that hellhole with tears rolling out of my eyes to my cheeks, and the next, Peter was gently shaking me awake. I yawned effortlessly as the sun rays radiated on my skin.

“It's morning.”

Morning?

How the fuck is it morning already? Why had I not confronted Donald? Why was I crying out of the club like a fool? What the hell happened immediately I stepped out of that club?

I grabbed my head, trying to see if I could remember anything.

Peter crouched down beside me. I heaved a sigh of relief before I hugged him tightly for some minutes. His sweet saint reeked my nose. He also rubbed my back gently.

“You went back there, didn't you?” He asked, his voice calm. He released his body from mine and gave me a sad smile.

I swallowed hard, my heart beating faster. He could see through me, and it wasn’t hard for him to guess what I had done. Wait.. don't tell me…

“I brought you back here. There's no need to lie. You shouldn't have gone back to the club.” He said, his voice heavy with concern.

“I had no choice,” I said, the words like stones in my mouth. “Once Mom’s better, I will stop. I swear. I just need money for her treatment That's all.” I folded my arms, bracing myself for his response.

Peter looked like he was about to argue, but after a long moment, he sighed, defeated. “Fine. Mom’s health matters.”

He walked to the shelf and came back with a basket in hand. He off-loaded the flasks in it and gave me one while he took the other for himself.

“Have you been able to get any money?” I broke the silence as we ate.

“I borrowed eight thousand. Begged everyone I could. I know it’s a lot… but it’s Mom. I…”

Peter was still talking when I jumped from my seat. “Eight thousand dollars?” The flask fell off my hand, the food spilling on the floor.

“Yes, why are you so surprised? I had to borrow from a lot of people. Mother's life is important.” He said calmly as he stood up.

“You're such a darling.” I whispered softly with relief.

He smiled and enveloped his body around me. A smile played on my lips as I let out a satisfying smile due to the warmth of his warm body.

We ate his food together since mine had already spilled on the floor. When we were done, I entered the bathroom and took a quick bath. Thankfully, I had some extra clothes just in case I was on night shift and would be returning home in the morning.

As I tied my hair into ponytail style, Peter's voice came from behind, “I wish every mother had a daughter like you.”

As soon as we stepped out of the hospital, the sun beat down on us, its heat suffocating. Peter gave me a warm sweet hug before he turned right to get the money and I would go to the club.

With a smile still on my face, I noticed four black cars parked across the street, tinted windows hiding whoever sat inside. But I didn’t have time to worry about them.

I hailed a taxi and headed to the club, my mind racing. The place was nearly empty when I arrived, the few patrons scattered like shadows in the dim afternoon light. I quickly made my way to Donald’s office, but I met him outside his door. He ushered me in and quickly locked the door after he entered.

He sat on his seat and started counting stacks of cash.

Frustration bubbled inside me, and I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for him to speak. When half an hour passed and he still hadn’t noticed me, I stood and slammed my hand on the desk.

“Donald, am I that invisible? Pleaee, I need my pay.”

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. I walked toward him reluctantly, my heart hammering.

“I’ll give you your money,” he said, holding up the bundles of cash. “But…” He smirked, and before I could react, his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

A cold wave of panic washed over me. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had tried this before but I stopped him and now, he wants to try it again? No!

I pushed him away, but he was too quick. He forced me against the table, pinning me in place as his hands moved to pull up my skirt. I screamed, but the sound was muffled in the noise of the bar.

I fought back—kicking, punching—but he was relentless, a predator who was determined to get what he wanted.

“Stop!” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. “Please…”

Instead, his lips met mine, his tongue sliding in, and I bit him hard. He yelled in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

In a burst of rage, I shoved him off and grabbed the first thing I could—a knife from the table. My hands shook as I gripped it, but I knew I had to defend myself. My chest heaved with terror, my mind whirling as I raised the knife.

He let out a cry from the bottom of his soul. He fell to the floor grabbing his shoulder where I had stabbed him. My hands flew to my mouth before I ran out of his office, my body trembling.

But, I believe that I have taught him a lesson.

~~~~~

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled back to the hospital compound, where I found Peter begging the doctors. His face was pale with worry, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

Then, my mother’s body was wheeled out of the hospital.

I ran to her side, my body trembling with fear. I threw my arms around her. I could still hear her faint breathing but my heart got shattered into pieces.

Dr. McMasters' eyes locked onto mine, disappointment burning in them. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled out his phone, showing me a video of me dancing at the bar last night.

Shame flooded me as I covered my mouth. It’s against the rules of the hospital for its staff to work as a stripper. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me up.

“You won’t be able to work here anymore,” Dr. McMasters said.

My world shattered at that moment. Everything I had done—every sacrifice—was for nothing. And now, the only thing left was the fury that burned in my chest.

I used to believe love could save the world. That night, I learned the world never cared to be saved.

But there came a question that lingered in my mind, “Who sent the video to Dr. McMasters?”

$Chapter

Brinda's POV

The weight of yesterday’s trauma pressed heavily on me. My mother had been thrown out of the hospital, and I was left with nothing but remnants that could ruin me.

The little money I saw in my locker at the club was gone. All the people who promised Peter some money had refused to give him. And the balance from my salary had been paid to the hospital which can't be reversed anymore.

At that moment, I sealed my fate. It is finished.

Amidst that, Peter's cold hands wrapped around me from behind, my skin froze but his hot breath melted the cold away quickly. “Don't worry. We will save her.”

“What will you do?” I asked, my voice calm. “Will you trade your life for hers? There's barely twelve hours left. What miracle can happen?”

“I understand this is taking a toll on you but we will have to keep trying. As long as there is life, we can't lose hope until the last minute.”

Peter's words gave me some encouragement and I understood that we would have to keep on trying till the last minute. My eyes travelled to the bed where my Mom laid unconsciously.

She had given me life by struggling to raise me and I would do the same. I would fight the whole world for her because she deserves it.

We had some cereal in a hurry after taking our baths since there was nothing left to eat in the house. Peter gave me a bone-crushing hug like never before and pecked my cheek then he placed his lips gently on mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I closed my eyes as I let go of my worries and let his actions take control of my thoughts. He pushed his tongue far deeper into my mouth and he let out a groan while I tightened my laps together as my right hand reached out to the back of his head.

My left hand went low to his pants zip but he stopped me. “Not now. We can do this later. We need to save Mom first.”

“Of course… and I would devour you.” I smirked.

“I can't wait!” He chuckled, adding a wink.

I locked the door carefully and dropped the key in my bag. Peter wrapped me into his warm embrace again and I loved it, my body twitching with delight.

Peter darted away quickly, ticking his hands into his pants. I smiled at his playful side before I moved towards the main road. My phone rang.

The number was private.

My stomach sank. My mother was no longer in the hospital. Peter couldn't have called with the number. Maybe, it's an angel who would help.

I answered quickly, hoping it was someone—anyone—who could help.

“Hello?” I didn't wait for the person to respond before I continued, “Who is this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Brinda, you have two options,” the voice on the other end said, a deep, menacing tone that sent a chill through me.

Fear crawled up my spine. “What options?” My voice was shaky, trembling with the weight of the unknown.

“Will you come meet me?” The voice asked, ignoring my question.

“Yes, but… who are you?” I couldn't stop asking the same question over and over again. There was silence from the other end and I remained there waiting for a response.

“You haven’t moved, Brinda. What are you waiting for? Or are you still the cold-hearted Brinda I used to know?” The voice was calm but laced with something darker.

I glanced around, feeling the sharp, oppressive sense of being watched. The black cars. The men in black suits. Who were they?

“Why are you doing this? I’m already in distress. How can I handle all of this?” I begged, my voice breaking under the weight of everything.

“A cab is waiting for you across the street. Get in,” the voice ordered.

Nervously, I scanned the street. I saw the cab, parked across from me. With no other choice, I walked to it and climbed in.

“Tell the driver where to go,” the voice instructed.

I refused to speak. I wouldn’t give them control over me, not yet. But the cab started moving anyway. It was clear now—the driver was in on it too.

The ride to an unknown destination felt like an eternity. My hands gripped the seat, and my mind raced.

What was waiting for me at the end of this ride?

After what felt like hours, the cab stopped. I stepped out, and my breath caught in my throat. There, at the edge of a cliff, was Peter standing there as if he was instructed not to leave the spot. I screamed his name, but he didn’t react. He was just there staring at me.

My phone rang again.

“Do you think that you should punish him?” The cold voice on the other end asked.

Punish him? Why should I punish him? He had always stayed with me every step of the year since I knew him three years ago.

Never would I be an ingrate.

“I will help you make a choice. Did you know that your lover was the one who showed Dr. McMasters the video of you stripping?” The voice inquired.

My breathe caught in my throat with a voice in my head screaming, “NO!!!” I raised my head to look at Peter who lowered his gaze.

My skin crawled with unease. And my eyes burned with indignation, “How dare you?” I voiced, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I didn't want you to go back. That's all! I have been staying with you, following you around like your dog. I didn't expect you to start changing sides by going back to that motherfucking place. Can you see what problem it had brought us? Who are these people by the way?” Peter said with no ounce of remorse in him. Instead, his voice was cold and unwelcoming.

I wondered if he was the same Peter who hugged and pecked me a few minutes ago. Was he the same Peter who stood by me always? Was he same Peter I wined and dined with for three years? Was it the same Peter that I shared every detail of my life with or maybe not?

“Peter, what are you saying?” I cried, tears rolling out of my eyes as I walked slowly closer to him, ditching the distance between us.

“I can't believe this. Why? Why would you do that? I trusted you. I loved you. I gave you everything but you…”

I was still talking when Peter cut me short of words, “Don't lecture me. I was only fighting for us. I was fighting for our future. Your mother won't make it, so it's better to start thinking ahead and…”

“Shut the hell up!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the area. “Why were you trying to do?” I grabbed his shirt and shook his body.

“There is no race we will run. With the amount of time left, she will die. We shouldn't have false hope.” Peter replied.

“Really?” I scoffed. “Then, what were your sweet words for? To make me believe that you care?” I questioned, tears still flowing out of my eyes.

“No, I was only helping you. I was saving you. If I hadn't pulled you back that night, you would have been dead. You owe me.” He said.

I felt a rush of anger within me and I stomped my feet on the ground angrily. He moved his hands around my arm and it only made my skin crawl with unease. I yanked his hands off my body and I heard his scream.

He was falling backward. My eyes widened and the anger I felt vanished away in a second. I reached out to him and grabbed his right hand, stopping him from falling off the cliff.

With me holding his right hand, he managed to get his left hand on the edge of the cliff. I began to pull him up but I hadn't done much when I was kicked from the side.

My hand got released from Peter's as I fell to the side. I watched a foot step on Peter's left hand that gripper the edge of the cliff. His scream echoed through the air as he fell into the abyss below.

My body felt numb as I stared at the spot where he had fallen, his last cry still haunting my ears. I let out a soul-wrenching wail from the very depth of my soul while I stretched my hands towards his disappearing body.

The sunset began to cast a red glow across the horizon as my breathing increased rapidly. Who was the bastard that stepped on his hand? Who had let Peter fall off the cliff?

I turned slowly and saw him.

The man who had orchestrated all of this. The masked man. His presence was commanding and terrifying. His laughter reverberated through my ears before he placed his hand on his face and removed the mask.

My jaw dropped, my eyes mixed with a fearful glint locked onto his, my hands shook uncontrollably, my breath caught in my throat and fear etched itself on my face like a mask.

“Francesco Dante,” I whispered, the shock and horror filling every inch of my being.

As Francesco crouched down beside me, he was accompanied by the thundering sound that was soon followed by unexpected droplets of rain.

My heart sank as his face came into the view—clear enough for me to see it. It's been five long years but he remained the same.

Why didn't I recognize him at the bar?

I gripped the hem of my clothes as the memories of our past flooded into my head. He locked his eyes on mine for the first time letting a sly smile appear on his face.

Five years ago, Francesco was my boyfriend. We both worked tirelessly to make ends meet which included me working as a stripper and him working as a bar attendant then he vanished out of nowhere leaving me an eternal scare.

He raised his head and inhaled deeply then he brought his face back to our normal level. “It's so nice to see you again, Brinda.”

“And it's not nice to see you. You bastard!” I yelled.

He chimed, “I know I'm a bad person, damsel but who is more terrible between us?” He cupped my chin in his hand. “Where is the old Brinda? This new Brinda I'm seeing is a weak one.”

“Stop saying nonsense,” I said, removing his hand from my chin. “You've lost the right to touch me years ago when you left me all alone. You're a wicked person and… I regret having met you in this lifetime.”

“Who cares?” He said icily which forced me to touch my chest which was beating rapidly. “Well, I'm here for a purpose.” He declared.

“What purpose? I can't help you with anything,” I replied.

“I need you, Brinda. I need the Black Rose. The one who inserted rods in throats to kill, the one who would do anything to hide a dead body, the one who once chopped a body into one hundred and eighty pieces. Where is that side of you?”

The Black Rose, which happened to be me, was a spy under Alpha Exposition—A spy agency, popular in the underworld, but can't be heard of outside.

While struggling to pay my fees in college, Cecilia, my friend, introduced me to a man who was the leader of Alpha Exposition. Later, I got to know the man was her father, Andrew. I was ordered to deliver drugs and as time went by, Andrew saw through me and realized I had the potential. I was the type he was looking for. One fateful day, he called me into his office.

Guess what?

He told me to be his personal spy. My duty then was to secretly monitor all the activities in the agency. I accepted the offer and did really well after which, I resumed my training to be a brutal spy.

All I needed was the money so I worked really hard.

When I started killing high-profile citizens, I got a job at Donald's clubhouse where I mostly attract my targets and silence them at the snap of my fingers.

Things went perfectly well until the sudden demise of Andrew evoked chaos and Cecilia's elder brother attained power. He dismissed us all, including me, not knowing that I was the real deal.

“Black Rose died years ago and I'm not going back to that lifestyle.” I finally answered after a long silence.

“Look,” he said and dipped his hands into his pocket before he walked to my back, brought his head to my ears then whispered, “I’m not here to bargain with you. I'm here to instruct you on what to do?”

My eyes shone brightly as I was ready for a showdown. I should have known there was nothing good that would happen with his presence. “I can't fulfill your request,” I told him. “Wait, how did you know Black Rose?” I asked, surprised because that was meant to be a secret I would take to my grave.

And where the hell did Francesco get so many men that worked for him? How did he get so much money? Did he have a hidden identity or something?

And most importantly, why is he back? To begin my death by making my life hell?

$Chapter