The moment Aria’s body slams into my aim, time stops. My finger freezes on the trigger—precision born from survival. The gun feels heavy now, useless against five-foot-four of stubborn blonde defiance. Her chest presses into the barrel; I feel her tremble through the cold steel. My blood turns to ice. One twitch, one mistake, and I would have—I can’t even think it.
“Move,” I growl, but the word comes out strangled. My arm shifts, pulling the weapon away from her fragile body even as I try to sound commanding. “Now, Aria.”
She doesn’t budge. Instead, her chin lifts with that stubborn tilt I’ve come to recognize in the short time she’s been mine. Her beautiful hazel eyes stare up into mine. Meanwhile, the intruder remains half-hidden in shadow behind her.
“I can’t let you do this,” Aria whispers, her voice surprisingly steady for someone standing in front of a loaded gun seconds ago.
My jaw clenches so hard I might crack a tooth. “You don’t give the orders in my house. Even kindness has its limits.”
“It’s Chiara.” The two words punch through me harder than any bullet. “It’s my sister.”
The name hangs between us like smoke. Chiara. The twin who ran. The reason Aria ended up in my possession to begin with.
I lower the gun completely, but can’t hide the tremor of fury shaking my arm. Behind Aria, Chiara steps forward, pulling back her hood with trembling hands. It’s the same face as my wife’s—same height, same delicate features—but her hair is just an inch shorter, her eyes colder. She wears the look of someone who’s been running for too long.
“You have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t put a bullet in your skull,” I say to Chiara, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes Aria step back in shock.
“Marco!” she gushes. “Are you serious?”
My security team hovers at the edges of the foyer, weapons still drawn. With a sharp jerk of my head, I dismiss them.
“Leave us. All of you.”
They hesitate, but ultimately back away. The last one pulls the double doors closed behind him with a soft click.
The moment we’re alone, I move. Aria yelps as I push past her and pin her precious sister to the wall by her throat. My fingers press into the soft skin beneath her jaw—not enough to cut off air, but enough that she knows I could.
“How dare you?” I spit, leaning in close enough to see the flecks of fear in her eyes. They’re hazel like Aria’s, but without warmth. “You abandon your sister to an unknown fate. You leave her to marry a stranger, to pay off your debts. You run with the money, never even telling her the price you sold her for—and then you have the fucking audacity to sneak into my home?”
Chiara’s hands claw at my wrist, but I don’t move.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened to her if I had been someone else?” I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper that carries more threat than a warning. “If I were half the monster they say I am, she’d be broken by now. Is that what you wanted for your twin?”
Chiara tries to speak, but only manages to sputter. I grip tighter, furious at how she dared to put my wife in danger, furious at how she’s fucked with so many lives without giving a second thought to anyone but herself.
“Let. Her. Go.”
The command slices through the red haze of my anger. I turn to see Aria standing straighter than ever, fists clenched at her sides. The hesitant bride I brought home a week ago is gone. In her place stands a woman I barely recognize—steel beneath the softness.
“Now, Marco,” she continues, and there’s something in her voice I’ve never heard before. Authority. Command. “Or I swear to God, I’ll walk out that door, and you’ll never see me again. And I’ll make you pay if you so much as leave a scratch on my sister.”
My fingers loosen from Chiara’s throat before I even make the conscious decision to release her. Something in Aria’s voice would have me doing anything she asks, and the realization is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The woman who trembled in my bed now threatens me, and God help me, I respect her for it.
Perhaps, I find myself maddened by this side of her. This loyal, protective lioness.
“You don’t deserve a sister like Aria,” I hiss into Chiara’s face in parting rage before finally releasing her wholly. “She’s too fucking good for you. She worked to pay your debts, and you’ve only ever brought trouble to her door.”
Chiara slumps against the wall, coughing and massaging her throat. A thin red line marks where my thumb pressed too hard.
“I never meant for Aria to be harmed,” Chiara rasps, her eyes darting between me and her sister. “I’d never do that to her.”
I bark out a laugh that contains no humor. “Liar. You left her to the wolves. You took the money—my money—and ran, leaving her to pay your debt with her freedom.”
“Maybe I did—and I’m not proud of it. But I had to go. I found something—something that puts us both at risk.”
Aria steps closer to her sister, and their mirrored image sends an uncomfortable chill down my spine. They move the same way, like dancers performing the same routine from memory.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aria asks.
Chiara takes a steadying breath. “I came back because I love you, Aria. I’d never truly abandon you.” She turns to face her sister fully now, ignoring me as if I don’t exist. “I’ve learned who we are. Who we really are.”
Something cold slithers down my spine. I already know where this is going, and every instinct screams at me to silence her.
“We’re not nobodies,” Chiara continues, her voice steady. “We’re the DeLuca princesses—hidden away after the massacre, left in the dark about who killed our parents. You remember what I’m talking about, don’t you? Those nights we spent glued to unsolved crime stories, curling up on the couch, fascinated by those twisted murder shows? The DeLucas were a powerful mafia family, wiped out in cold blood. Rumors spread that the children died, too—but no bodies were ever found.”
I watch the color drain from Aria’s face. My worst fears materialize in the widening of her eyes, in the slight parting of her lips. If she learns that my father orchestrated the DeLuca massacre—if she discovers that Bianchi blood spilled DeLuca blood—she’ll hate me. She’ll even try to exact revenge.
I might lose her.
The thought sends panic surging through my veins, sharp and acrid as battery acid. I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not when she’s started to look at me with something other than fear. Not when I’ve started feeling something I never expected for her.
“That’s enough,” I cut in, stepping between them. “Whatever information you think you’ve uncovered, Chiara, could be false. Family trees in our world are often rewritten to serve agendas. How come you never knew this before she married me, joined a mafia family? Someone’s fooling you.”
“I have proof,” she says, reaching for a worn satchel I hadn’t noticed. “Documents, photos—”
I place my hand on hers, stopping her. “Even if it’s true, what good does it do you now? The DeLuca empire fell decades ago. All digging into the past will do is alert their enemies, your enemies, that the heirs still live.”
Aria’s hand finds my arm, her fingers pressing into my sleeve. “Marco, if this is true… if we’re really—”
“Then you have more to fear than ever before,” I finish for her, turning to catch her gaze.
Those eyes that have started to haunt my dreams search my face for the truth. I give her what I can without revealing everything. “The DeLuca family didn’t fall by accident. Rivals systematically eliminated them. If word gets out that the daughters survived…”
I let the implication linger. My father once served their family, and he believes he wiped out their entire bloodline so he could claim what was theirs as his own. The blood feud goes back generations. Aria doesn’t need to know that part. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“We have enough enemies already,” I continue, my voice softening as I meet Aria’s eyes. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face—a tender gesture that surprises even me. “And speaking of immediate dangers, there’s something you both need to know.”
The sisters exchange a look I can’t quite interpret.
“Fabrizio D’Angelo is furious I helped you out, Chiara,” I say, dropping the name like a bomb. “He’s angry because I stopped his cronies from running their business in my territory—and he believes I’ve married you. You understand your sister is in danger?”
Chiara pales and stumbles back, her eyes darting to Aria.
“Exactly,” I continue. “I’ve effectively nullified his loan by taking Aria—who he thinks is you—as my wife.”
“But you paid him back, didn’t you?” Aria protests, though her eyes never leave pale Chiara. Even now, she tries to protect her sister.
I nod. “But he’s a loan shark operating on the fringes of organized crime. They thrive on exorbitant interest. The last thing a man like D’Angelo likes is not being owed. He’s not powerful enough to confront me directly, but he is dangerous nonetheless. If he finds out what you two have done, he’ll take your reunion as a personal insult—as if you’ve conspired to cheat him. Right now, he doesn’t even know Aria exists. If he discovers you’re twins, word will spread. You’ll both be hunted. I can keep Aria safe under my roof, but Chiara—if you start searching for answers, if anyone finds you when they believe you’re under my protection…”
“I didn’t come back just to put us in more danger,” Chiara protests, straightening her shoulders—a gesture so like Aria’s earlier stance, it’s uncanny. “I came to warn Aria and to make things right.”
My laugh is cold and sharp. “By breaking into my home? By risking a bullet in your brain? If I had been anyone else—if my men had found you first—you’d be dead in a ditch by now.”
“But they didn’t,” Chiara says, lifting her chin with that same defiance I now recognize runs in their blood. “And I’m here to stay. To protect my sister.”
“Protect her?” I step closer, using my height to loom over her. “The way you protected her when you left her to marry a stranger? The way you protected her when you took from a man like Fabrizio, knowing the consequences?”
Aria’s hand on my chest stops me from advancing further. She stands between us again, but this time facing Chiara.
“He’s right,” she says softly, and the admission sends a surge of something possessive through me. “You did leave me, Chi. You did put us in danger.”
Chiara’s face crumples, just slightly, around the edges. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and we need to stick together. Especially if what I’ve learned is true.”
I watch them carefully, noting how Aria’s stance has shifted—not fully toward her sister, not fully toward me. She stands in the middle, caught between blood and… whatever I am to her now. Husband. Captor. Protector.
“Let me be absolutely clear,” I say, addressing Chiara. “Your recklessness nearly got you killed tonight. Any further impulsive actions will have consequences I can’t control. Aria is under my protection now, which means by extension, so are you.” I pause, letting the words sink in. “But cross me again, and sister or not, there will be a reckoning. Now, if you want me to shelter you both, you cannot go digging into secrets that bring more danger your way. Our way. Whatever you’ve found about your family, lay to rest, or else…”
The threat hangs in the air, but beneath it lies an offer—one I didn’t even know I was making until the words left my mouth. Protection. Safety. For both of them.
Aria’s eyes meet mine, something new swimming in their depths. Understanding. Gratitude.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and her fingers squeeze mine briefly.
Those two simple words ignite something within me—something I’ve spent decades burying under layers of ice and control. My numb hands tingle with sudden warmth, and in my chest blooms an uncomfortable heat that I recognize, with mounting horror, as guilt.
Guilt for what my father did.
Guilt for what I’m hiding from her.
Guilt for knowing that when she eventually discovers the truth, I might lose the only thing I never knew I wanted.
Because when the truth comes out—and it will—she won’t just hate me.
She’ll destroy me.
Maybe I’ll deserve it.
