I slice through my toast and egg, enjoying my peaceful breakfast. Exactly how I like my mornings.
Yesterday’s paper lies beside my plate—Aria on the front page. I haven’t been able to throw it out. Can’t bring myself to stop looking at the beautiful, powerful image of her.
There has been no communication with my father since our confrontation. He’s probably plotting, scheming, gathering his resources for whatever move he thinks will bring Aria to heel.
He can plot all he wants.
I take a bite of the homemade breakfast ham, savoring the perfectly seasoned meat. The chef outdid himself this morning and I plan to enjoy my breakfast to its end.
This might be the last calm morning I have for a while.
Just then, Nicolo appears in the doorway, looking frazzled. Dark circles ring his eyes like he hasn’t slept.
“What now?” I ask with a sigh, setting aside my plate.
“Boss,” he says, slightly out of breath. “We need to talk.”
“When do we not?” I pour him a cup of coffee, slide it across the table, and motion at a chair.
“This is serious, Marco.”
“It always is.” I point to the seat. “Sit. You look like shit.”
He remains standing, pulling out his phone instead. “I’ve been monitoring the situation all night. The intel is… concerning.”
“Define concerning.” I take a sip of espresso.
“Your wife has been busy.” He scrolls through something on his screen. “Very busy. Last night, she made contact with every major arms dealer in the tri-state area.”
“And?”
“And she’s acquiring military-grade equipment. Assault rifles, body armor, explosives.”
I set down my coffee cup, finally giving him my full attention. “Go on.”
“She’s not just gathering weapons, boss. She’s recruiting soldiers. Ex-military, mercenaries, anyone willing to fight for the right price.” His voice drops lower. “Our sources estimate she’s assembled at least forty men. All combat-trained.”
The information settles over me like a warm blanket.
Pride, actually.
My brilliant, beautiful wife is building herself an army. She’s not playing games anymore—she’s preparing for real war.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Will she?”
Nicolo stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Will she what?”
“Will she come for me?” I lean back in my chair. “With her forty soldiers and military-grade weapons. Will my wife finally stop hiding behind proxies and come for me herself?”
“Jesus Christ, Marco.” He rakes both hands through his hair. “This isn’t a joke. She’s coming to kill you. To kill all of us. This is war.”
“I know what it is.” I pick up a berry, chewing slowly. “The question is whether she has the guts to see it through.”
“She’s already seen it through!” His voice cracks with frustration. “She’s killed eighteen of our men. Stolen millions in cash. What more proof do you need that she’s serious?”
“Those were warm-ups.” I take another berry. “Foreplay. If Aria really wants to end this, she’ll come to the compound. She’ll come for me.”
Nicolo pulls out a chair and collapses into it. “You’re fucking insane. You know that, right? Your wife is assembling an army to destroy everything we’ve built, and you’re sitting here eating breakfast like it’s Christmas morning.”
“Because it is Christmas morning.” I lean forward, meeting his eyes. “For months, I’ve been trying to bring her home. Trying to make her see reason. But she’s stubborn. She wants to do this the hard way.”
“The hard way being armed conflict that could leave us all dead?”
“The hard way being her learning that Marco Bianchi doesn’t lose.” I set down my fork. “She wants to be a queen? Fine. Let her wear the crown. But when the smoke clears, she’ll remember who built the throne.”
He shakes his head. “This is about your ego.”
“This is about my family.” The words come out sharper than intended. “My wife. My child. Aria thinks she can build something better by tearing down what I’ve created. I’m going to prove her wrong.”
“And if she succeeds? If she actually manages to—”
“She won’t.” I interrupt him. “But I respect her enough to give her the chance to try.”
Nicolo stares at me for a long moment. “There’s something else.”
“I’m listening.”
“She’s been in contact with the Russians. Petrov’s people. Word is she’s trying to buy heavy artillery from them. The kind of weapons that could punch through the compound’s defenses.”
Now that’s interesting. Aria’s thinking bigger than I gave her credit for. The Russians control the most sophisticated weapons market on the East Coast. If she’s approaching them, she’s not planning a raid—she’s planning a siege.
“Have they sold to her yet?” I ask.
“No. Petrov called me personally to report the contact. The Russians remain loyal to the Bianchis. They’ve turned down her initial offers.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Nicolo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Boss, if she gets her hands on Russian artillery—”
“Call Petrov,” I say, standing from the table. “Tell him to reconsider.”
Silence falls over the dining room. I can hear Nicolo’s breathing, can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he processes what I just said.
“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “Did you just tell me to help your wife acquire weapons capable of destroying our home?”
“I told you to call Petrov.”
“Why?” The word explodes out of him. “Why would you do that? Why would you arm our enemy?”
I walk to the window, looking out at the city sprawling below. Somewhere out there, Aria is planning my destruction.
The thought should terrify me.
Instead, it sends electricity down my spine.
Because it means she’s got her eyes on me. She’s thinking about me.
“Because she’s not our enemy,” I say without turning around. “She’s my wife. And if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
“I’ve found my purpose.” I turn back to face him. “For twenty-five years, the Bianchis have crushed anyone who dared to challenge us before they could become a real threat. But Aria?” I smile. “Aria deserves better than that.”
“She deserves to be crushed like any other threat.”
“She deserves to face me at full strength. Because when I beat her—when I prove that even at her best, she can’t defeat me—she’ll finally understand.”
For half a second, I see her winning. The thought turns my blood to ice—then fire.
“Understand what?”
“That she belongs with me. That she’ll never be stronger than when we are together.”
Nicolo drops his head into his hands. “You’re going to get us all killed.”
“I’m going to take back what’s mine. And she’s going to thank me for it.”
