Maria Callo never wanted to be a part of a world filled with secrets, danger, and death. But desperate to provide for her family, she joins Wesley Thompson's dark empire as his secretary. Wesley, the feared leader of the Redstar gang, hides his deadly nature behind a mask of charm and wealth. Beneath his cold, ruthless exterior lies a man who has never been loved and a tool for his family. As Maria's presence begins to break Wesley's exterior, their forbidden connection becomes a dangerous weakness. Enemies close in from every side–a sinister plan by Wesley's rival, Roger Edward, threatens to destroy everything, with betrayal lurking even within his own family. As blood spills and alliances shatter, Maria faces a hard choice: fight to save the man who killed her sister's husband or walk away and live a peaceful life.
Chapter 1 A night before the storm
Maria's POV
The air was filled with the scent of newly polished wood as I finished wiping the last table, my bruised fingers shivering from holding the cold wet cloth for hours. The sun was already starting to set, the golden rays shining through the large windows of Madam's estate, causing the marble floors to shine.
My legs ached from standing for hours, and my back complained each time I stood up straight, but the day's tasks were finally over.
I breathed out, pausing briefly to check out the room. Everything was shiny and clean, just how Madam preferred it. The shimmering crystal chandelier above sparkled, casting small rainbows onto the ceiling. Despite spending years in this place, the wealth around me seemed like it belonged to another realm, one I was permitted to only clean up but never genuinely felt part of.
Madam settled by the window in her chair, enjoying her afternoon tea with the same elegance she showed in all her gestures. Her silk robe, adorned with intricate floral designs, flowed around her like a regal mantle. She hadn't talked to me since lunchtime, completely engrossed in the novel she was reading.
I hesitated before stepping forward. "Madam," I said, keeping my voice low and respectful.
She didn't look up. "Yes, Maria?"
"I was hoping to ask if I could take tomorrow off." I joined my hands, my heart racing as I pushed the words out of my mouth. "My sister is getting married and I want to be there to help her and get ready for her big day."
At that, Madam finally lifted her gaze, dark eyes studying me with quiet scrutiny. She set her teacup down gently on its saucer, tapping a single manicured finger against the porcelain. The silence stretched between us, and I swallowed hard, trying not to fidget under her stare.
"Your sister," she mused, her voice cool but not unkind. "You never mentioned she was engaged."
"It happened quickly," I admitted. "They've been planning for months, but things have been...complicated."
Her lips pursed slightly, but she nodded. "I see." She looked out the window, where the sky had turned into hues of pink and orange. For a brief moment, I thought she would refuse.
Then, with a sigh, she said, "Alright then. You could have the day free, but I want you back by Sunday morning. I have an important brunch, and I'll need everything prepared."
Relief flooded my chest, so strong I almost staggered. "Thank you, Ma. I'll be back first thing."
She waved a dismissive hand. "Go, then. And enjoy the wedding."
I bowed my head, then turned and left quickly before she had a chance to change her mind.
I entered the front door of our cozy home; the aroma of roasted chicken and fresh bread filled my nose and surrounded me like a cherished hug. The home was hardly spacious enough for the three of us, but it had consistently been vibrant and filled with affection.
"Maria, you have arrived at last!" My father's voice resonated from the dining table, where he was bent over a pile of envelopes, writing intensely. His glasses with silver rims had slid down to the end of his nose, and his shirt was sprinkled with flour, probably from his effort to assist with baking the cake.
I placed my bag down and looked over his shoulder. "Dad, what are you up to?"
"Writing invitations, of course," he said proudly, lifting one up. "A wedding is a grand occasion, my dear. It should be treated as such."
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Dad, the wedding is tomorrow."
"Exactly!" he declared. "Which is why these need to go out immediately!"
I laughed softly and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're incredible."
Before he had a chance to reply, Wanda entered the room, lifting her wedding dress with a blend of excitement and anxiety. The ivory material glimmered in the light, with fine lace adorning the sleeves.
"Maria," she breathed. "Tell me I don't look like a ghost in this."
I let out a soft laugh. "You look beautiful."
She twirled gently, the dress spreading around her legs, but even as she smiled, I noticed a flicker of doubt in her eyes. A shadow of something sinister, something she wanted to suppress with the joy of the wedding.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Wanda...are you sure about this?"
Her jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." I folded my arms. "You're still thinking about him, right?"
She averted my gaze, her fingers gripping the material of her dress tightly.
"Wanda," I pressed. "Getting married won't change what happened. It won't bring him back."
Her lips trembled slightly before she hardened her expression. "I know that."
"Do you?" I looked at her face, my heart twisting. "Every time I look at you, I see it: the anger, the sorrow. It's still there, no matter how hard you try to hide it."
She turned back to me sharply. "What do you expect me to do, Maria? Forget? Move on like it never happened?"
"No," I said softly. "But I don't want you to lose yourself."
Her eyes burned with something unreadable. For a long moment, she didn't speak. Then, finally, she sighed, the fire in her eyes dimming. "Tomorrow is about the wedding," she said, her voice quieter now. "Nothing else."
I wanted to believe her.
The rest of the night involved getting ready, making final adjustments to Wanda's dress, setting the table for a late meal, and listening to Dad recount stories from his wedding day.
"I was so nervous, I nearly fainted at the altar!" he exclaimed, making Wanda and me burst into laughter.
"You didn't," Wanda sneered, but Dad raised a hand.
"I promise! If your mother hadn't been holding my hand, I could have crumbled at that moment."
His laughter was infectious, his eyes shining with kindness and affection. In spite of everything, the challenges and the suffering, we still had moments like this. Moments that made all the suffering worth it.
But, despite our laughter and the toasts we raised to Wanda's future, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen soon.
Something that would change everything.
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