Bloodlines

The next morning, Emilia couldn't look at herself in the mirror without seeing someone else.

Daughter of a mafia boss.

Pawn in a war she never chose.

The truth clung to her skin like smoke.

She made it to work on time, flawless on the outside, but something inside her had shifted. The girl who once poured coffee and dreamed of city lights was gone. In her place stood a woman who was walking the blade between past and future.

And Alessandro Moretti noticed.

"Come in," he said the moment she passed his office.

She didn't hesitate. She couldn't afford to. Not now.

"You've been quiet," he said, eyes flicking up from a file. "Something bothering you?"

She met his gaze directly. "I could ask you the same."

There was a pause — subtle, tense, electric.

"Victor Blake," she said quietly. "What do you know about him?"

Alessandro's eyes darkened, just a little. "Enough."

"You asked about him yesterday."

"And you lied."

Silence.

Then he stood, slowly circling the desk until he was just inches away from her.

"Do you know who your father was?" he asked, voice low, like a predator toying with its prey.

Emilia nodded. "I do now."

"And you still came back."

"I'm not him," she said firmly. "Whatever war you two fought — I wasn't part of it."

"That's where you're wrong, Emilia." His tone sharpened. "Blood doesn't ask permission. It claims you. Even if you run."

She stared at him, refusing to blink. "Then what happens now?"

Alessandro didn't answer. Instead, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small velvet box. He placed it on the desk between them.

Emilia hesitated. Opened it.

Inside was a ring. Heavy. Black metal. And engraved with an ancient crest — a Moretti mark.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A choice," he said simply. "Stay. Let me protect you. Or run. But if you run, I can't guarantee what the other families will do if they find out who you are."

"You're giving me a warning?"

"No," he said. "I'm giving you a place."

Her breath caught.

"I'm not asking you to trust me," he continued. "But I'm telling you this — if you walk out that door without my protection, they'll come for you. And this time, I won't be the one standing in their way."

Emilia looked at the ring again — then back at the man whose name made the underworld shake.

She didn't know if he was saving her.

Or claiming her.

But either way… she wasn't walking out.

Not yet.