His Empire...Her Endgame

brewing inside him, one that would bring ruin and take many lives. Turning to Aldo, his most trusted man, he noted his nervousness and said, "Don't worry, man. He's safe. Tha

xistent, revolving solely around con activities and night operations. Yet, something inside her-the Nigerian girl she once was-kept pushing her toward a legal life. But leaving the organization wasn't an option. Her boss would never let her go, except through death. She had taken an oath, and for the longest time, she hadn't questioned it. But recently, doubts have crept in. I don't know who my parents are, but I know I've always wanted to save lives, get married, and have children. She let out a bitter laugh before tears welled up. Reality had hit hard. She collapsed onto the bed, seeking comfort in the lush sheets and pillows. She called hotel service for food, then drifted back into an uneasy sleep .Her first day in Florence had gone terribly wrong. MARCO- Marco stood by the ocean, watching the waves crash against the shore. He needed a distraction from what Matteo had said to him. His mind drifted to the beautiful dark-skinned woman he had encountered last night. He wanted to hate her-but he couldn't. His thoughts were a mess. He had enough to deal with. His nephew, Lorenzo, was on a reckless path, stepping on Matteo's toes. Marco wanted a quiet life, but Lorenzo was dragging the family into unnecessary drama. Ever since he arrived in Italy to handle the business his elder sister had refused to manage alone because of his almost un involvement with the business everything had spiraled out of control. Now, drugs were involved. As Marco pondered his next move, he realized his clothes were drenched in sweat and his hands were trembling. Fear gripped him-not just for his family's fate, but for Lorenzo's life. God help him see sense before it's too late. As they reached the dock, Matteo's man turned to him with a smirk. "We have to get you back, Mr. Marco," he said, amusement laced in his tone, as if the name "Marco" was some kind of joke. Marco didn't respond. He simply followed him onto the boat, the sound of the waves filling the silence as they sailed to another location. From there, they got into a waiting car, driving off without exchanging a single word. What Marco didn't notice, however, was the slight tremor in the guard's hands as he gripped the wheel. The man was already shaking, knowing full well what awaited them at the Lopez estate. He feared what Lorenzo would do to him-but he knew better than to show weakness. As they approached the grand estate, the tension in the car thickened. The air seemed to grow colder. Matteo's man finally broke the silence, his voice laced with barely concealed trepidation. " I think you'll have to get out here. I need to rush back and pick up some things for my boss , and I'm in a hurry." Marco understood. The man didn't want to linger, and frankly, neither did he. The last thing he wanted was to run into Lorenzo or any of his men. He was certain that kind of encounter would not end well. Just as Marco reached for the door handle, a dark silhouette suddenly loomed over him, blocking his view. His heart skipped a beat. His eyes darted to the driver just in time to catch the flicker of fear in his expression, the way he struggled to maintain a brave front-but failed miserably. Taking a deep breath, Marco stepped out of the car, his gaze locking onto the figure in front of him. It was Lorenzo standing in his full glory His nephew's expression was unreadable, but Marco took a moment to observe him before a slow smile spread across his face. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and embraced him. Lorenzo returned the gesture, though his face remained composed, his smile cool and controlled. For Marco, however, it was a deeply emotional moment. He ruffled his nephew's hair-a small, familiar gesture from years past. It had been a long time. And no matter how much had changed, some bonds refused to break. Marco ruffled Lorenzo's hair, just as he had done since his nephew's boyhood. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, a tension that neither was willing to acknowledge outright. After a long moment, Lorenzo finally turned to his men. "Take him inside. Let him rest," he ordered. Marco hesitated, unw