(Flashback: Elena Ricci)
Florence, Italy – 25 Years Ago
It was midnight when Elena Ricci carved her name into the inheritance scroll.
Not in ink.
In blood.
Her father's study smelled of sandalwood, old weapon polish, and betrayal. The red wax seal trembled under her palm as she pressed her thumb into the center, the centuries-old parchment crackling as if it sensed the storm she was about to unleash.
"You don't have to do this," whispered a voice behind her.
Arturo Cruz.
Younger. Harder. But no less dangerous.
"I was born to do this," Elena replied, not turning. "Just not for the reasons they think."
The scroll glowed faintly. Hidden signatures pulsed beneath the surface faint, pulsing lights encoded in lineage, revealing the truth: she was the last daughter of the Ricci line. And by law by blood she would inherit it all.
Unless she died.
Or unless she gave it to someone else.
Someone not yet born.
"Elena," Arturo said, stepping closer. "Once you sign, you belong to this world. There's no going back."
She smiled then, dark and beautiful, the kind of smile that promised ruin and revolution.
"I've belonged to this world since the day they killed my mother for marrying beneath her."
Arturo's expression flickered.
"They'll come for you."
"They already have," she replied.
The signature flared.
A seal appeared notarized in blood, witnessed by Cruz and Moretti. Three families locked in eternal vendetta.
Three legacies.
Three children, yet unborn, destined to either kill each other or change the game.
Elena turned, silk robe trailing like shadow. "When I die, they'll try to control our daughter. They'll try to use her the way they tried to use me. But she won't bend."
"She'll burn," Arturo said softly.
"Yes," Elena whispered. "But she'll choose where the fire starts."
She reached into the vault behind the scroll ancient, metallic, marked with Ricci glyphs and withdrew a small glass vial. Inside, a glimmering red-gold liquid swirled like mercury.
"What's that?" Arturo asked, eyes narrowing.
Elena kissed the vial and hid it in the folds of her robe.
"A contingency," she said. "Something no one but she can use."
Arturo frowned. "You don't trust me."
"I trust you too much." Her smile was a blade. "That's why I had to lie."
She stepped into his arms one last time. Not because she loved him. But because, despite everything, he was the one man who'd understood her hunger for power and her defiance of it.
"You're going to make the world fear her," Arturo said.
Elena's voice was soft, haunted. "No. I'm going to make them answer to her."
Final Scene – Present Day
In the dark of her Milan suite, Valentina dreams of a name she was never taught to remember.
She wakes with the word Ricci on her lips.
And the faint memory of a vial, kissed by a woman with fire in her eyes.