Chapter 3 BLOODLINES

Chapter Three: Bloodlines

Luciano didn't move.

Not when the door slammed shut behind her.

Not when the silence stretched like a loaded gun across the velvet-drenched room.

Not even when the ice in his glass melted into amber warmth.

He just stood there, staring at the photograph lying on the table.

Two car seats.

Two faint silhouettes in the back of the car.

Two secrets.

His gut twisted-fury, betrayal, and something else he hadn't felt in years. Something close to panic.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

Aria Castell didn't believe in coincidence. She believed in control.

And for five damn years, she'd had it.

Until now.

Luca reached for his phone.

"Marco," he said when his second-in-command answered. "I need everything on Aria Castell. Full surveillance. I want eyes on her apartment, her job, her contacts. Don't spook her yet. Just watch. Quietly."

"Yes, boss."

He hung up and poured another drink.

His hands didn't shake. His voice hadn't cracked. But inside, something tectonic had shifted.

If those kids were his-

> No.

He didn't need ifs.

He needed facts.

He'd trusted her once. Just once. And she'd disappeared the next morning like a ghost in silk sheets-no number, no goodbye, no trace.

And now... this?

He downed the scotch, the burn dull compared to what was clawing at his chest.

He was a De Rossi.

A king in a kingdom built on blood.

People feared his name in three countries.

But somehow... a woman had taken something from him.

Something irreplaceable.

And he wasn't sure if he was more enraged by the lie-

Or the possibility that he had sons he'd never known.

---

✦ Across the city...

The sky over Brooklyn was smeared in watercolor shades of dusk-peach, lavender, and just a whisper of blood.

Inside a modest second-floor apartment, Nico was building a spaceship out of LEGO bricks while his twin brother, Nino, sat cross-legged on the carpet beside him, reading a picture book upside down.

"Mom's late again," Nino said, without looking up.

"She's not late. You're just dramatic." Nico snapped a piece into place with extra force.

"Am not."

"Are too."

Nino stuck out his tongue. Nico ignored him.

The twins looked alike-dark curls, olive-toned skin, and wide storm-gray eyes that never missed a thing. But anyone who spent more than five minutes with them would see the difference.

Nico was fire.

Nino was fog.

Where Nico moved fast, loud, and with stubborn confidence, Nino lingered-quiet, thoughtful, watching the world before speaking.

"Do you think she's okay?" Nino asked softly.

Nico hesitated. Then shrugged. "Yeah. She always is."

But his hands betrayed him-pausing mid-build, fingers curling tighter than they needed to.

They didn't know much about the past.

They knew their mom worked too much. That she never took them near Manhattan. That she jumped at loud noises. That she'd once broken down crying in the car when they passed a black Escalade on the highway.

And they knew never to ask about their dad.

"Do you think he's dead?" Nino asked, almost in a whisper.

Nico looked up.

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because if he's not dead, then he left us. And that's worse."

The silence that followed was heavy. They were only five. But some truths weighed heavier than others.

The front door clicked.

Both boys jumped to their feet, rushing toward the sound.

Aria stepped in, tired and beautiful and trying too hard to smile.

"Mama!" they chorused.

She dropped to her knees and opened her arms just in time for the double-tackle.

They wrapped around her like vines, tiny arms and sticky fingers gripping tight.

"You're late," Nino mumbled against her hair.

"I know, baby," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

She looked over their heads, breathing them in, holding them like they might vanish.

Because after tonight... she wasn't sure she could protect them the way she thought she could.

---

Later that night, after they'd bathed, fought over bedtime stories, and finally passed out tangled in one bed like always, Aria sat on the edge and stroked Nico's hair.

He frowned in his sleep.

Nino's hand was curled over his brother's shirt like he needed the connection to dream peacefully.

They didn't know how close everything had come to unraveling.

And she wasn't ready to tell them.

> Not yet.

She kissed their foreheads and padded to her bedroom, closing the door softly.

Then she collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Luca had looked at her like he knew.

He didn't have proof. But he had instincts. And those instincts had made him one of the most dangerous men in New York.

She didn't know how long she could keep this up.

The lies. The hiding. The way her heart still reacted when he looked at her, like it was five years ago and they were tangled in silk sheets and promises made in the dark.

Back then, she hadn't known she was pregnant.

Back then, he was still just danger and desire-not the man who would eventually terrify her with how much power he held over her soul.

But now?

He was everything she had tried to shield her sons from.

And yet, they looked just like him.

They laughed like him.

They smirked like him.

They watched people the same way-quiet, intense, calculating.

And one day... they were going to start asking more questions.

Questions she wasn't sure she could keep dodging.

Her phone buzzed.

She stared at the screen.

Unknown Number.

Her stomach twisted.

She didn't answer it.

Not tonight.

Because she knew, deep in her bones, that Luca wasn't just guessing anymore.

He was circling the truth like a predator who'd caught the scent of blood.

And once he knew for sure...

Nothing would stop him from claiming what was his.

Not even her.