Leo's voice was heavier than I'd ever heard it.

"The Costello brothers are bad news. Both of them. I'll start with the younger one, Dante. On the surface, he's the family's Underboss, handling all the 'clean' businesses and Whirl Street investments. But in reality, he's the one running their overseas money laundering. He's darker than anyone realizes.

"The older brother, Luciano, is worse. Officially, he's the Capo in Crownpoint, in charge of the docks and smuggling. Behind the scenes, he's brutal. A few years ago, to take over territory, he personally dumped a rival family's Don into the Hatton River."

Leo paused. "This is the most important part. They're not twins, but they look so similar that they might as well be. They've switched identities before. Back in school, Dante took exams for Luciano, and Luciano went out to fight Dante's battles. For them, trading places is as easy as brushing their teeth."

Every word he said hit me like a sledgehammer, but that wasn't the end.

"The three million dollars your father owes was a setup from the start. The whole thing was a trap to get you, to make you the Costello family's property."

I clenched the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. So, from the very beginning, I'd been nothing more than a commodity, tagged with a price.

"Chiara, listen to me. Stay away from them. I'll get you out of Monvia," Leo said.

"No." I paused, then continued, "I'm not going anywhere."

After I hung up, I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was pale, but my eyes were unnervingly bright. Dante and Luciano wanted to turn me into a toy, huh? We would see who walked away winning in the end.

That night, "Dante" showed up again. He brought me a necklace.

"Did you have a bad day? Who upset you?" he asked, pinching my cheek, sounding indulgent.

I lowered my gaze, letting a faint, almost unnoticeable tremor creep into my voice. "Dante, I think… I think I saw your brother again a few days ago."

His hand stalled for a second as he fastened the necklace. Then, he smoothly clicked the clasp shut as if nothing had happened. "Don't mind him. He's just a psycho."

I shook my head, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. "He was waiting for me at the estate gates. He said… He said I'll be his sooner or later."

I looked up at him through blurry eyes. "Dante, I'm scared."

"Dante's" expression darkened in an instant. He set the jewelry box down, the atmosphere around him turning so cold it was suffocating. "He wouldn't dare!"

His possessiveness had been lit up with almost no effort. In his eyes, there was a viciousness I'd never seen before. This wasn't the gentle, refined Dante, the Underboss. He was Luciano, the ruthless Capo. While he was pretending to be Dante, he'd let Luciano's emotions slip through.

My heart turned ice-cold.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The call connected almost immediately. "Dante" didn't say a word. He merely held out the phone to me, his eyes telling me what he wanted me to say.

I knew exactly what he was asking. He wanted me to tell "Luciano" myself to stay away. He wanted to savor the sting of his other self being rejected.

It was sick and ridiculous.

I took the phone and held it to my ear, speaking in a small and shaky voice, "H-Hello? Is this Capo Costello?"

There was absolute, dead silence on the other end.

I kept playing along with the script "Dante" wanted. "Please stop harassing me. The man I love is Dante. I'll only ever be with him."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I hurriedly handed the phone back, like it had burned me.

"Dante" smiled, satisfied. He ruffled my hair. "Good job. Don't be scared. You have me."

Right in front of me, he lifted the phone back to his ear and, in a voice that sounded like staking a claim, said, "You heard her. She's mine."

Then, he hung up. He didn't know that, in the split second before the call ended, I formed three silent words while looking at the phone—"I'll be waiting."

In the middle of the night, the faint sound of a door opening woke me. I didn't turn on the light. I just lay quietly in bed, listening to the sound of bare feet on the wool carpet, coming closer and closer. The footsteps stopped beside my bed.

In the darkness, a figure leaned over me, carrying a heavy smell of whiskey and that familiar trace of gunpowder. It was "Dante", or perhaps I should call him by his real name—Luciano.

He had stripped away the identity of "Dante". His scorching gaze roamed over my face like a branding iron, brazen and unrestrained. He thought I was asleep.

He reached out, his fingertips cool and calloused. He lightly traced my cheek and my lips and stopped at my neck. There was a kind of desperation and madness in that touch, full of resentment and possession.

I kept my eyes closed, my body trembling slightly. It wasn't from fear but from excitement. The fish had taken the bait.

Luciano stood by my bed for a long time, so long I almost thought he would stand there until dawn. But in the end, he leaned down and brushed the lightest of kisses against my ear. "Chiara, you can only be mine."

His voice was hoarse, thick with booze and obsession. Then, he turned and left. The door clicked shut.

I opened my eyes. In the dark, the corners of my lips slowly curled upward.

…

The following day, when "Dante" came over, he looked rough. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, and there was a probing look in the way he watched me.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" he asked.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "Not really. I had a nightmare."

"What did you dream about?"

I looked at him, my eyes wide, innocent, and confused. "I dreamed about your brother, but it felt like he actually came by and kissed me."

"Dante's" body went rigid, and his eyes behind his glasses narrowed sharply. "Are you sure it was a dream?"

"I guess…" I said, sounding uncertain. "It just felt so real. He reeked of alcohol."

I observed "Dante" closely as I spoke. His jaw was clenched tight, and the hand holding his coffee cup had gone pale at the knuckles from how hard he was gripping it.

He was doubting. He was doubting whether "Luciano" had actually snuck over to see me behind his back. The trust between the brothers had just gotten its first crack.

"From now on, lock your door," he said flatly, setting down his cup.

"Okay." I nodded obediently.

…

That afternoon, I got a call from Leo. "Chiara, I got what you asked for."

"Thanks."

"What exactly are you trying to pull? Listen to me—you're playing with fire. You need to stop."

"The fire's already burning," I said. "I just want to make it burn a little brighter."

…

That evening, I made a reservation for "Dante" and myself at a classy restaurant that usually took six months to book. I deliberately wore a long white silk dress—his favorite—and put on light makeup.

"Why are you in such a good mood today?" he asked, pulling my chair out for me.

I smiled. "Because today is our one-year anniversary."

He froze for a moment, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes. He'd forgotten. Or rather, the man currently playing the role of "Dante" had no idea that today was "our" anniversary. That detail was something only I and the real Dante knew.

But I didn't call him out on it. I pulled a beautifully wrapped velvet box from my bag. "Happy anniversary, Dante."

He took the box and opened it. Inside was a custom signet ring bearing an eagle, which was the Costello family crest, and the letter "D".

D for Dante.

He stared at the ring, his expression complicated. Then, he said, "Thank you. I really like it."

I looked at him, smiling warmly. "I had it specially made. It's one of a kind, just like you."

"Dante" was distracted throughout the meal.

I knew what he was thinking. He was wondering how he was going to explain this ring to "Luciano". Should he pass it off as a symbol of something they shared or… claim it as a medal that belonged to him alone?

On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was heavy and quiet. Right before we reached the gates of the estate, I suddenly spoke. "Dante, I saw someone on Fifth Street today who looked a lot like you."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"He was with a tall, hot blonde. They looked pretty close." I turned to look at his perfect profile and feigned naivety as I asked, "That wouldn't happen to be your brother, would it? Did he get himself another woman?"

The car lurched to an abrupt stop as he slammed hard on the brakes.

The screeching of the brakes tore through the Crownpoint night. Because of the sudden stop, my body lurched forward, then my seatbelt yanked me back.

"Dante" turned and stared straight at me, a storm barely contained in his eyes. "Did you get a good look at them?"

His intensity scared me. I shrank back a little and nodded. "Y-Yeah… That woman was smoking, like a runway model."

"Where were they?" His voice was icy and hard, like it had been tempered in frost.

"Right… Right at the cafe across from Belgrave & Goodwyn."

He went quiet. The atmosphere in the car seemed to freeze, pressing down on my chest until I could barely breathe.

That woman was someone I'd had Leo find. She was a Rodenian arms dealer who'd done a few deals with Luciano. I'd asked Leo to arrange that "chance encounter" and then take photos.

In the pictures, the woman was smiling seductively, her body leaning slightly toward "Luciano". Their posture was intimate, and her hand was almost on his thigh. "Luciano" hadn't pushed her away.

Right now, those photos were on my phone. But I couldn't just pull them out. I needed my words to become a knife that I could drive straight into "Dante's" heart.

"Dante, your brother… Has he stopped liking me?" I asked carefully, my voice catching like I was about to cry.

"Shut up!" he suddenly roared.

I jolted, trembling all over as tears spilled out instantly.

He seemed to realize he'd lost it. He took a deep breath and softened his tone. "Sorry, Chiara. I wasn't yelling at you."

He reached out to pull me into his arms, but I shrank back. "Don't touch me."

His hands froze in midair, and his expression became downright ugly. "Chiara…"

"Do you also think I'm just a drama queen? It's good that your brother has another woman, right? This way, he won't bother me anymore. I should be happy…" I cried as I rambled, completely incoherent on the surface.

But every word was aimed straight at his heart.

"Dante" thought I was terrified of Luciano harassing me. He thought I was hoping Luciano would finally leave me alone. He had no idea that every word I said was a reminder that "Luciano", the man he shared me with, might be about to betray their alliance and be with another woman.

For him, that was a double betrayal.

"He wouldn't." After a long moment, "Dante" forced out the words, like he was trying to convince me, and even more so himself.

The car started up again, and we drove back to the estate. He didn't come upstairs with me. He said, "I have some family business. Get some rest."

I watched him drive away, knowing he was going to look for "Luciano". The show was about to start.

I went back to my room, showered, and called Luciano. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. On the other end came a voice simmering with barely contained fury.

It was the real Luciano. "What is it?"

I cooed in my sweetest, softest voice, "Luciano, are you mad at me?"

There was only silence on the other end.

"Is it because of Dante?" I continued. "He misunderstood you. He thinks you're with another woman."

"How do you know that?" His voice sharpened instantly, full of suspicion.

"I guessed." I let out a little laugh. "He just completely went off on me—it was scary. You should explain things to him, Luciano. I don't want you two fighting because of me."

I sounded gentle and considerate, but every word was adding fuel to the fire.

"What right does he have to be mad at me?" Luciano let out a cold laugh. "Who does he think he is?"

"Because he cares about me," I said in a deliberately innocent tone. "And also… because he cares about you."

On the other end, something shattered with a violent crash—glass, by the sound of it. Then came Luciano's furious roar. "Dante!"

The line went dead.

I set my phone down and walked to the window, looking out. It wasn't long before Luciano's black car pulled back into the driveway and stopped downstairs. He didn't get out.

A few minutes later, another identical car came tearing in. It did a sharp drift and stopped sideways, blocking the first car. It was Dante.

Luciano stepped out. He wasn't wearing a suit—just a black silk shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a solid chest and sharp collarbones. A dangerous, feral energy rolled off him.

He walked up to Dante's window and slammed his fist into the bulletproof glass. Even from this distance, I could almost hear the dull thud and imagine the spiderweb of cracks spreading across the glass.

The peace between the brothers had finally been torn in half.