Isabella barely slept after finding the cryptic letter. At dawn, she sat on the balcony, clutching the note like it was a ticking bomb. The words—I'm coming for you, little brother—echoed in her mind.
When Leonardo finally emerged from the bedroom, shirtless and exuding effortless dominance, she tried to hide the letter. But his sharp, dark eyes caught the guilt instantly.
"What's that?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of lethal authority.
Isabella hesitated, then handed it to him silently.
Leonardo read it once, twice… and the icy mask on his face cracked, revealing something she'd never seen before: fear.
He crushed the paper in his fist, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "So… he's still alive."
"Who?" Isabella asked cautiously.
Leonardo's gaze lifted to hers, filled with shadows of a past he'd kept buried. "My brother," he said bitterly. "Matteo."
They sat in Leonardo's study, the tension suffocating as he finally spoke about the secret that had haunted him for years.
"Matteo and I were both raised in this life," Leonardo began, his voice heavy with suppressed rage. "But where I built power, he craved chaos. He betrayed our father, sold out the family to enemies, and when I confronted him… I thought I killed him."
Isabella's breath caught. "You… killed him?"
Leonardo shook his head, frustration twisting his features. "I shot him. Left him for dead in Naples fifteen years ago. Apparently, the bastard survived. And now… he's coming for everything I've built. For you. For our child."
He slammed a fist onto the desk, rattling the crystal glasses. "Matteo isn't like Volkov. He doesn't want power. He wants revenge. He'll burn this empire to watch me suffer."
Isabella reached across the desk, placing her hand over his clenched fist. "Leo… we'll face him together. Just like we faced Volkov."
Leonardo's eyes softened as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "No, bella," he whispered. "Matteo knows every weakness I have. Every sin I've committed. And now… he knows you're my greatest one."
He kissed her fiercely, as if trying to anchor her to him before the storm.
That evening, Marco rushed into the mansion with grim news.
"Boss," Marco said breathlessly, "Matteo's already in New York. We intercepted his men near the docks. They weren't here for a takeover… they were here to send a message."
Marco handed over a black envelope. Inside was a single Polaroid photo of Isabella and Leonardo's unborn child's ultrasound. Across it, in crimson ink, were the words:
"The rightful king always takes what's his."
Isabella felt the world tilt beneath her feet. "How does he even know about…"
Leonardo cut her off, his voice like steel. "Because Matteo has spies everywhere. People I thought were loyal. Volkov's war was just a distraction—Matteo's been planning this for years."
He turned to Marco, his tone deadly calm. "Lock down every entrance. Double the guards. I want eyes on Isabella every second."
Marco nodded, but his face betrayed unease. "Boss… Matteo isn't alone. He's rebuilt an army. Old allies from Naples, Russians left over from Volkov, even our father's former men. This is more than just revenge—it's a coup."
Leonardo's jaw tightened. "Then we remind him whose throne this is."
That night, Isabella lay awake in bed, listening to the distant sounds of guards patrolling the mansion. She turned to find Leonardo sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a rare cigar, his eyes locked on the darkness outside the window.
"You haven't said a word for hours," she said softly.
He exhaled a plume of smoke, his face carved in shadow. "Because if I speak, bella, I'll wake up the devil inside me," he admitted. "Matteo isn't just my brother. He's the other half of everything I despise about myself."
Isabella sat up, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. "Then let me fight the devil with you," she whispered against his ear. "Whatever storm is coming, I'm not leaving your side."
Leonardo turned to her slowly, his gaze softening for only her. "That's the problem," he murmured, kissing her temple. "If he touches you… if he even breathes near you… I won't just kill him. I'll lose whatever's left of my soul."
They kissed, slow and deep, clinging to each other like they were the only safe place left in the world.
The next day, chaos erupted at one of Leonardo's safe houses. Matteo's men ambushed a convoy transporting millions in weapons and cash, slaughtering every guard and leaving only one survivor to deliver a message.
Covered in blood, the man stumbled into the mansion's gates and collapsed at Leonardo's feet.
"He says…" the dying man wheezed, "he says… see you at the crowning."
Leonardo's face turned stone-cold. Marco stared in confusion. "Crowning? What the hell does that mean?"
Leonardo's eyes darkened like a gathering storm. "Matteo wants a public execution," he said flatly. "He's challenging me to a mafia coronation—winner rules the empire, loser dies."
Isabella's heart stopped. "He's forcing you into a war you can't walk away from."
Leonardo finally looked at her, his gaze fierce but unshakable. "No, bella. He's forcing both of us into it. Because the only way Matteo wins… is if he destroys us together."
He drew her close, pressing his forehead to hers. "But I swear on my blood, Isabella… this time, I won't miss."
That night, while everyone slept, a shadow slipped through the estate's iron gates.
Matteo DeLuca himself, older, scarred, but carrying the same lethal charm as his younger brother, stood silently in the moonlight, a blood-red rose in his gloved hand.
He whispered into the night, his voice like a snake's hiss.
"Sleep well, little brother," Matteo murmured. "Because soon, I'll take your queen, your crown, and your kingdom… just like Father always said I would."