The wheels screeched against gravel as the car swerved off the main road, plunging into a hidden forest path. Branches scraped the sides like claws. Luca's hands gripped the steering wheel, eyes cold and calculating.
Casey clutched the dashboard with one hand, her other wrapped protectively around her stomach. "Where are we going?"
"Safehouse. Old contact. If we survive the next ten minutes."
Behind them, the SUV was relentless. Whoever was chasing them wasn't just trying to scare them—they were aiming to capture or kill.
Mirella rolled down her window halfway and aimed a pistol. "Tell me when to shoot, cowboy."
"Not yet," Luca growled.
The tires hit a patch of mud, and the car nearly spun. Casey's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know whether it was the fear of the crash—or the growing pain in her lower stomach.
"Luca," she gasped. "The baby—"
He didn't look back. "Just hold on."
Meanwhile, in Milan, Ivan Park stood in a cold warehouse where the last informant was tied to a chair. Blood dripped from his lip. Ivan's white shirt was stained red—he hadn't even noticed.
"She was with Luca?" he asked again, voice quiet.
The man nodded weakly. "And the girl… the bodyguard, Mirella. They left the city heading east."
Ivan's fist clenched. He turned to Viktor. "They're going to the mountain towns. That's where the priest is. He's the key."
"The key to what?"
"My mistake."
Ivan's voice dropped as he walked out. He didn't explain. He couldn't. Because the name Finch had once belonged to a family that nearly destroyed his.
And now, Casey bore that name.
The safehouse was an old vineyard estate—half-burnt, overgrown, but hidden well in the folds of the mountain. They reached it just as Casey's pain worsened.
Mirella kicked open the old doors, and they laid her on a dusty couch. Luca grabbed a lantern, illuminating the cracked walls and faded paintings.
"I think it's just stress," Casey panted. "The baby's fine."
But Luca's face was pale. "You're seven months in. We can't risk anything now. I'll call the midwife who helped my mother. She's still alive, somewhere in Monte Reale."
Mirella poured water into Casey's hands. "You're stronger than you think. But you need rest."
"I need answers," Casey muttered. "I need to know why my family's name was erased from every government file. Why no one remembers my mother."
Luca sighed. "Because your mother was a ghost. A Finch by name, but a Park by blood."
Casey froze. "What?"
"She was Ivan's cousin. She betrayed the family. Ran off with your father and tried to expose their weapons ring to the authorities."
Casey's throat tightened. "So I'm…"
"Half Park," Luca said gently. "And Ivan knows."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Mirella blinked. "So you're pregnant… with your cousin's baby?"
Casey whispered, "He never told me."
"No," Luca said grimly. "Because Ivan Park doesn't share blood. He owns it."
Later that night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Casey slipped outside. She stood beneath the moonlight, staring at the vineyard ruins. A thousand thoughts whirled in her head.
Ivan. Her mother. The child. Her name.
She whispered to the wind, "What am I supposed to do now?"
And in the distance, under the cloak of night, someone was already watching.
Not Ivan.
Not his men.
But someone worse.
A woman with a scar across her cheek, speaking softly into a radio.
"Target found. The heir is alive."
In Milan, Ivan stared at an old family portrait. One child was scribbled out in black ink.
"Your mother tried to destroy me once," he whispered. "And now your daughter carries my child."
He looked up.
"And I still can't stop wanting her."
The wind rustled through the vines like whispers from the past. Casey stood barefoot in the cold earth, the moonlight casting a pale glow over her face. Her fingers tightened around the necklace she'd worn since childhood—simple, silver, with no insignia. But now, it felt heavier. Like it had meaning she'd never understood.
She looked up at the cracked roof of the vineyard house, its old stones nearly glowing under the moon. It was silent, except for the sound of Mirella softly snoring inside and Luca's boots pacing on the floor.
And then—
A snap.
Casey spun around.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
Her heart thudded against her ribs, and the baby kicked as if sensing danger. She took a cautious step back toward the house.
That's when the shadow moved.
A figure emerged from the trees. A woman, tall and dressed in black leather, with a scar cutting across her cheek and down to her collarbone. She had that look—cold, sharp, unreadable.
Casey froze. "Who are you?"
"I knew your mother."
The woman's voice was smooth, too calm. "Your real mother. Emilia Finch-Park."
Casey's breath hitched. "That name..."
"I was the one who helped her escape Ivan's father. We were friends once. Until she trusted the wrong people."
"What do you want?"
The woman took a step forward. "To protect you. Because if you think Ivan is your biggest problem… you're not ready for the real war."
Just then, Luca burst through the door, gun raised. "Step away from her!"
The woman raised her hands casually. "I'm not here to hurt her. But you don't have much time."
"What the hell does that mean?" Luca barked.
"Ivan isn't the only Park alive. His older brother—Daehyun Park—he's coming. And unlike Ivan, he won't spare Casey or the child. He wants the bloodline erased."
Casey's knees nearly gave out. "Ivan has a brother?"
The woman nodded. "The one they don't talk about. The one who trained Ivan to be a monster… and was exiled for being too cruel, even for the mafia."
"And why now?" Luca asked.
"Because the child Casey's carrying—if born—has claim to the family's original fortune. The blood and the throne. That baby could control the mafia empire."
A long silence followed.
Casey touched her stomach again. "This child... is a key."
The woman nodded once. "A key. A threat. And a crown."
She stepped back into the shadows. "When the fire starts, don't run. Fight. Because the baby inside you is more than Ivan's child—it's the future of the entire Park legacy."
With that, she disappeared.
Later that night, Casey sat alone in a candlelit room. Mirella lay asleep beside a shotgun. Luca smoked out the window, tense and brooding.
Everything was changing.
The child she carried wasn't just a burden.
It was a weapon.
And she was no longer a surrogate.
She was a mother… to a possible heir of darkness.
She whispered to herself, "What if I don't want this power?"
From outside, a single line of Ivan's voice echoed in her memory—
"It doesn't matter what you want, Casey. You were never meant to have a choice."
But maybe, just maybe…
She'd find a way to choose anyway.