The Past.

3rd person POV.

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Mira sat in her the dim light from the single lamp casting long shadows across the room. The cool weight of a penknife rested in her palm, its edge glinting faintly as she absently pressed its tip into the wooden table, tracing invisible patterns.

The memories she had tried to bury surged to the surface. She shut her eyes, and the past came rushing back.

1. The Locket.

She had been fourteen years old when Luca gave her the locket.

It was a hot summer afternoon, and the two sat under the sprawling oak tree marking the edge of their yard.

Luca's face shone with his beaming, infectious grin as he pressed the small, heart-shaped pendant into her hand." For you," he had said with his boyish pride. "Something to remember me by."

Mira giggled in response; the joy of that instant flushed her cheeks. "It is so beautiful!" she exclaimed, running her fingers over the smooth, beautiful design.

 And it was then that she didn't understand why her mother's smile faltered when she saw it later that evening. "That's a lovely gift, sweetheart," her mother said, her tone strained.

But there was something in her eyes.... inkling of shock.... recognition- that Mira did not understand.

Later that night, her parents' hushed whispers filled the house.

Curiosity got the better of Mira from the tension in their tones, and she managed to make her way closer. "It's the locket, Peter," her mother whispered urgently, "The one stolen from us sixteen years ago."

Her father's voice was a low rumble. "You think his family has any idea?"

"I don't know," her mother replied, "but it can't be a coincidence. That boy is the same age as when it disappeared."

Mira had retreated into her room, grasping the locket tightly in her hands. She didn't understand what this all had to do with anything, but there was an unease gnawing at her that she simply could not shake.

It wasn't until years later... after they'd moved far, far away that her mother finally explained everything to her. Mira remembered the look on her mother's face, grave and determined with a tinge of fear in her eyes.

"Luca isn't who you think he is, Mira," she told her, taking her hands delicately.

"His family. they're bad news. They took more than just that locket from us. They took our house, our legacy. And your father," Her voice had cracked, and she had to stop for a moment before her words flowed again. "Your father is with them, taken from us, and I don't know where or why, but they wanted to erase us, Mira. We've been running ever since."

Those words had weighed heavily upon her. The boy she'd thought was her best friend, her sanctuary, had belonged to a family that had broken hers.

She wanted to scream, deny it all, but the truth would not bend. Since then, Luca was a bittersweet memory, cruelly reminding her of all that her family had lost.

***

Mira's grip on the penknife tightened; her knuckles had turned white as another memory flashed.

The night her mother was taken away from her.

The strong stench of smoke filled the air. The sound of shattered glass and heavy footsteps echoed in their house.

Her mother dragged her from bed, clamping her hand firmly over Mira's mouth for her to be silent.

"Run, Mira," her mother had whispered urgently, shoving her toward the back door. "Go, now!"

"But Mama—" Mira had tried to protest, but her mother's stern gaze silenced her.

"I'll hold them off," her mother had said. "You have to live. Promise me, Mira. Promise me you'll keep our family's empire alive."

Tears streaming down her face, Mira nodded, the words barely escaping her lips. "I promise."

She had helplessly watched from the shadows as her mother faced their attackers.

She felt her heart shatter the moment the gunfire pierced the night. She had wanted to run back, to save her, but somehow her legs wouldn't move. All she could do was watch as her mother collapsed, her blood pooling onto the floor.

Mira ran into the night, her mother's final words still ringing in her ears.

Present day...

The penknife dug deeper into the table, carving a shallow groove into the wood.

Mira's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding as the anger surged through her.

She had kept her promise. She rebuilt the empire her parents had started. The cost had been dear.

The girl she once was, the girl who laughed under the oak tree with Luca, no longer existed.

Now, he had appeared again, stirring memories she had taken so long to bury. He even dared to show his face and disturb the fragile balance she had taken so much time to establish.

Her gaze fell to the table where the knife had torn an uneven line in the surface. She exhaled abruptly as she made herself get her emotions under control.

"It doesn't matter," she grumbled to herself. "We aren't kids any longer. We aren't friends. And we never will be."

Her finger traced the faded scar on her palm, a reminder of the night that she had made her promise to protect her family's legacy at all costs.

And if Luca Moretti stood in her way, he would learn exactly how far she would go. Mira slid the penknife into her pocket and stood. The locket she had once treasured lay hidden in a drawer, a relic of a life she could never return to.

Luca would not get in her way.

Not now. Not ever.

Roman entered the room again, his face blank, "You're thinking about him," Roman said, breaking the silence.

Mira didn't deny it.

"He's thinking about me too. He's looking for answers."

"And what happens when he finds them?" Roman asked, his voice cautious.

Mira's fingers brushed over the locket in her pocket, her grip tightening around it.

"He won't. Not until it's too late."