The clock struck 2:13 a.m.
In a chapel long abandoned on the outskirts of Verona, the candlelight trembled not from wind, but from the quiet war unfolding inside.
She arrived in silence, dressed in red silk that kissed her curves like a lover. Her heels didn't echo. Her breath barely fogged the air. But her presence her presence cracked through the chapel like a blade through communion wine.
The Woman in Red.
No name. No fingerprints. No allegiance anyone could trace. And yet she was feared in all four corners of the mafia world.
She removed her gloves slowly, revealing hands too delicate for the destruction she dealt.
"You're late," she said.
A man stepped from the shadows, hooded, but familiar someone with access, with blood in the game. His voice rasped with regret.
"I had to make sure no one followed me."
Her gaze slid over him like poison. "And did anyone suspect that the heir to the Moretti throne is feeding secrets to a woman who wants to unseat an empire?"
He stiffened.
"Emilio has eyes everywhere," he said tightly. "And Lupo is getting suspicious."
The Woman in Red laughed. Low. Sinister.
"Lupo is a wolf sniffing the wrong trail. He believes he's in love. That makes him very human. Very fragile."
The traitor flinched, not at the words but at the truth behind them.
"You said you wanted her alive," he muttered. "But now you're planning something else."
She walked to the altar, dragging one red-gloved finger across the dust-covered crucifix. "Alive and obedient are not the same thing. Valentina has Cruz blood, yes. But she also carries the last thread of Ricci bloodline."
She turned. Her eyes gleamed like sharpened rubies.
"And once we trigger the inheritance clause in Venice, the entire European underworld shifts. Control, assets, alliances. If she signs the pact we own the blood map."
The man swallowed.
"She won't sign unless she remembers."
"She already is." A slow smile. "The mind forgets. But the blood it remembers. And when she does, she'll burn them all. Emilio. Lupo. Arturo."
He hesitated. "And me?"
The woman stepped closer.
"You?" Her lips ghosted near his ear. "You'll already be dead by then."
He tensed, but before he could move, she handed him an envelope.
"Deliver this to the Venetian Grand Archivist," she said. "Use your real name."
"I thought we agreed to"
She tilted her head. "I'm not asking."
The man took the envelope with trembling fingers, then disappeared into the fog.
When he was gone, another figure stepped out of the darkness.
Alejandro.
Lupo's second-in-command. Silent. Hawk-eyed. Always watching.
"She's making moves faster than we thought," he said.
The Woman in Red smiled.
"I am the move."
Cut to: Morning – Private Cruz Jet, En Route to Venice
Valentina stared out the window, still reeling from last night's revelation. A steaming cup of café sat untouched beside her. Across the aisle, Lupo leaned forward, elbows on knees, his jaw clenched.
"You didn't sleep," he murmured.
"Neither did you."
She turned to him.
"I need you to tell me everything about the Blood Inheritance Pact. No more lies. No more loyalty excuses. Just truth."
Lupo's eyes were dark as sin.
"I'll tell you," he said.
"But after you hear it you'll wish you hadn't."