Ethan picked up an object from Ava's house that looked oddly familiar—a name card with no words, only a sigil: twin black scorpions encircling a golden rose. Something about it tugged at his memory. Slipping it into his pocket, he glanced at Ava and Leo, who were wandering around the house.
His heart clenched every time Leo touched Ava, but he forced himself to look away. He made his way upstairs and stopped in front of a set of family photos. One, in particular, caught his attention —a large portrait of Ava with an older but fit man, a woman, and a young man. He quickly snapped a picture just before Ava appeared behind him.
"It's the first and last family photo I have," she said softly, her gaze lingering on it.
"You were born here?" Ethan asked, watching as Leo moved beside Ava, wrapping an arm around her waist. Ethan 's stomach churned at the sight.
"Yes," Ava nodded. "My father was an immigrant from Japan. He worked here as a park ranger, married my mother—an American—and brought her to live here. He bought this house, and my brother was born here too. After he passed away, he left this house and his other possessions equally to my mother and brother." Her voice held a quiet sadness.
Ethan hesitated before asking, "May I ask how he died?" Ava's expression changed instantly, tears welling in her eyes.
Leo shot Ethan an annoyed look. "Look what you did, dude. You made Ava cry. What's with all these questions?" Leo grumbled, trying to pull Ava to sit down, but she shook her head.
"It's okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I just miss him. He didn't die on the spot. He was out on a search-and-rescue mission for a lost child in the forest. It took him two days to find the kid. I was in the middle of an exam when I got the news. I rushed home, thinking everything would be fine, but a month later, he passed away. His lungs had been exposed to freezing temperatures for too long, and they failed him." Her voice broke as she sobbed, resting her head against Leo's chest.
Ethan clenched his fists and teeth, turning away. He walked downstairs, glancing back at them one last time before stepping outside. Then, suddenly, a memory slammed into him, making his breath hitch. 'It's Marchesi. That sigil—it belongs to Marchesi!' His mind spun—was this truly his family 's crest?
He traced the emblem again, pulse hammering. If this was real, then his entire life had been a lie. He needed answers. But was he ready for them? His pulse quickened as he paced, pulling out his phone and dialing Luca. The call connected after three rings.
Luca: "Yes, boss?"
Ethan: "Luca, I need you to check something in Nice. I found a sigil belonging to Marchesi at Ava's place. This isn't a coincidence. Nothing was stolen, but they were looking for something. Find out who they are and what they want."
Luca: "On it, boss."
Ethan locked his phone just as Ava and Leo stepped outside. Leo's arm was still around Ava's waist, and the smug look on his face irritated Ethan. 'Cocky bastard.'
After Ava finished speaking to her housekeeper, they all headed back to Milan on Leo's private plane. Ethan took a look around, muttering under his breath, 'Mine's bigger.'
Leo caught the comment and raised an eyebrow. "Got something to say?"
"I said, mine's bigger. We should've taken mine instead," Ethan shot back.
They bickered for the next fifteen minutes about whose jet was superior until Ava finally snapped, "Enough! You two need to get a room. Oh my God, just stop it!" She glared at them, exasperated.
Ethan leaned against the side of the cabin, while Leo sat beside Ava, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle. 'What a terrible view.'
After four hours, they landed in Milan. Ava insisted that Leo stay at a hotel instead of her apartment. "My place is messy," she explained. "Your hotel is way better. Once I've had time to clean up, then I'll let you come over."
Ethan dropped her off in front of her apartment building while Leo stood beside him, looking disappointed. "She's not hiding anything," Ethan told him. "Maybe her place really is messy. You two are still new. You 'll understand her in time."
Leo sighed, looking slightly reassured. "Yeah… maybe. I really like her. I' ve never liked anyone the way I like her. She's different. And you…" He paused, then pointed at Ethan. "You make me feel insecure."
Ethan blinked. "Me? She rejected me for you. If anyone should feel insecure, it's me. But now that you have her, cherish her properly."
Leo gave him a small nod before Ethan dropped him off at his hotel and he himself headed to his own home. As he stepped out of his car and entered the elevator to his penthouse, his phone buzzed. A message from Lydia —his birth mother.
Lydia: Come to Calabria. ASAP.
Panic surged through him. He immediately called her back.
Ethan: "Mom? Are you okay? Are you in trouble?"
Lydia: "Tsk, tsk, Ethan. You need to come here."
Ethan: "Okay… but what's going on? Did something happen?"
Lydia: "Tsk, tsk. I'll tell you when you get here. Just come, please."
Ethan stared at his phone, debating his next move. Going meant facing his 'beloved' twin sisters and possibly his uncles. But curiosity—and his sense of responsibility toward his birth mother—won out.
Ethan: "Fine. I'll be there."
He hung up the phone and immediately called Luca, instructing him to follow him to Calabria. Luca contacted several military-trained bodyguards to escort them.
When they arrived at the private plane, Ethan was shocked. "What's with all the bodyguards? Ten of them? Luca!" he shouted.
Luca grinned. "You said your mother called you crying, urgently asking you to come to Calabria. So, I brought the cavalry," he replied, causing Ethan to shake his head in disbelief. Without another word, Ethan boarded the plane, followed by Luca and the ten bodyguards.
Three hours later, they arrived in Calabria. Ethan used two of his custom bulletproof cars—a Rolls-Royce and a Chrysler—to transport the group. As they drove through the gates of the Marchesi mansion, Ethan immediately noticed the heightened tension. The property was swarming with men in suits, and the security was far heavier than he remembered.
There were clear signs of preparation, but no indication of mourning, which ruled out a funeral. They parked in the assigned garage. Ethan stood at the grand entrance of the Marchesi estate, its looming iron gates bearing the same sigil he had seen before.
But now, standing here, he felt a strange pull, like a whisper from a past he never knew he had. Luca shifted beside him, clearing his throat. "Are you sure about this?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. He wasn't sure. Not entirely. But the moment he stepped inside, the weight of history pressed down on him. The grand marble floors, the aged chandeliers, the faint scent of cigars and old leather—it all felt uncomfortably familiar.
Ethan spotted his half-sisters, Giulianna and Arianna Marchesi, standing at the entrance. They appeared welcoming, but their smiles were unsettling, almost predatory.
"Well, well.... How nice to see you fit and alive. So refreshing," Giulianna said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Arianna smirked. "Did you really think these bodyguards could save you from death, my dear sweet brother?" she taunted, causing Luca to gulp nervously.
Ethan remained calm. "These bodyguards are not for me, it's to prevent me from harming you at all cost, my dear sisters. Well, excuse me, I have much more important things to do than play word games with you. Please, do make way," he said with a polite smile, brushing past them without a second glance.
As he walked further into the mansion, he came across a man holding a vase. The man 's head peeked out from behind some plants. "Sorry, excuse me. I hope my Pinus thunbergii isn't bothering you. Hey... Hi.. nice to meet you. I'm Jerome," the man said with a naive expression, a small monocle perched on his left eye. His smile seemed genuine.
Before Ethan could respond, another man interrupted. "Rom, can't you see how much he resembles our dear brother? The face, the seriousness, the style—he's like a mini Vitto, except he's not. Meet your nephew Rom, Enzo Matteo Marchesi. Am I missing anything? AH, yes—how 's my beautiful Ava? Tell her I miss her," the man giggled before walking away, leaving Ethan momentarily speechless.
Jerome chuckled awkwardly. "Pardon him. He's always been the childish one in the family. I'm the nerd, and Vitto... well, he's always been like our father, especially when our father wasn't around. So....we're family, huh?" he said, extending a hand. Before Ethan could react, he was interrupted again—this time by his mother, Lydia.
"Ethan!.... you came! Oh my God, you came for me!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug.
Vitto appeared beside her and gave a curt nod. "Have you introduced yourself to your uncle?" he asked, gesturing to Jerome.
Ethan nodded stiffly.
"Good. Now, let's head to the foyer,"Vitto said, turning to lead the way. But Ethan stood his ground.
"I'm not moving until you both tell me what's going on. Why did Mother call me crying? What did you do to her, Vitto?" Ethan demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at his birth father. The room fell silent, the tension palpable.
Vitto, however, remained composed. He gently lowered Ethan's hand and said, "Let's go inside, and we'll explain everything." With that, he walked into the lounge, a room as large as a foyer, followed by Lydia. Ethan hesitated, glancing around before slowly following. Luca tried to join but was stopped by two men in black suits and sunglasses.
"Enzo only," they said firmly. Ethan patted Luca's shoulder reassuringly and stepped inside alone.
Inside the foyer—or what they called the lounge room— there was a secret room. Vitto opened the door for Ethan and closed it as soon as he entered. Ethan froze, glancing at both of his parents.
"So? Explain yourselves," he demanded.
His mother and father exchanged a look before his mother spoke. "We're getting married. Officially," she said.
"Officially? But you were never married. I'm the bastard son, remember?" Ethan asked, his voice tinged with bitterness.
His mother smiled softly and took his hands in hers. His father, Vitto, spoke up. "We were married in Sarawak 33 years ago, with your great-grandfather Matteo's blessing. It was a closed ceremony, so there's no official registry. But it means you are my legitimate son, not the bastard you thought you were," Vito explained, leaving Ethan stunned.
Ethan leaned back, the weight of the words still settling in. "Wait… what does this mean for me?" he asked carefully, as if afraid of the answer.
Vitto's gaze didn't waver. "It means you're now first in line to inherit the entire Marchesi empire," he said steadily. "And that includes taking over as CEO of the Marchesi Group."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat. "What?" he gasped, his eyes widening, unable to mask the disbelief.
Vitto stood and turned to Lydia. "Lydia, my darling—would you give us a moment? I need to speak with Enzo privately."
She hesitated briefly, her eyes flickering between the two men, then nodded and slipped out. Vitto waited until the door clicked shut, then walked over and turned the lock with an audible snap. He pressed a button on the wall, engaging the room's soundproof system. The hum was subtle but noticeable—this was no ordinary conversation.
Crossing back to his chair, Vitto sat down opposite Ethan, his face unreadable, but his eyes held a solemn weight. "I've known about you for some time, Ethan. But for years, you were only Lydia's son to me, not mine. So, I stayed away. I thought it was best." Ethan remained silent, absorbing the confession in tense silence. "But your sisters… they've been digging," Vitto continued. "They discovered I once had a lover outside the family. They followed the trail and found you. And then they told your uncles."
Ethan stiffened. "How do you know all this?"
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Vitto's mouth. "Because I have eyes everywhere. I allowed them to play their little game, thinking they'd get bored. I underestimated them." His expression darkened. "I don't know what their endgame is, but I do know this: you need to be careful. Don't assume you're protected just because you're my son. They won't stop at you, Ethan. If they feel threatened, they will come after the people you care about without hesitation."
A chill crept through Ethan's spine. His jaw tightened. He thought of Ava, Delilah, Bruno, even Luca. People he loved.
Vitto leaned forward, folding his hands. "Enzo... I love my daughters, I truly do. But something in them has shifted —corrupted. If they take control of this empire, it won't just crumble... it'll become something dangerous. I fear no one will be safe, not even me or your mother."
Ethan's voice was low, strained. "So, what am I supposed to do to prevent that?"
"The only path I see is for you to take control," Vitto said simply. "Once you lead the empire, Calabria will fall in line. The allies we've held for generations—like Sicily— will stand behind you. And if you form an alliance with the Campania clan by marrying Isabella Genovese... then all of Italy will bow."
Ethan blinked, his breath catching again. "Marry?!" he echoed, his tone sharp with disbelief.
Vitto nodded slowly. "It's not unheard of, Enzo. Your grandfather arranged my marriage to the daughter of the Veneto clan—an alliance forged out of necessity. That union gave me your sisters. I didn't love her, but the marriage served its purpose."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, reeling. The information was too much, too fast, like a storm ripping through everything he thought he knew.
They eventually left the study and joined the others in the dining hall for the evening feast. The atmosphere was warm on the surface, but Ethan could feel the undercurrent of scrutiny the moment he stepped inside.
As they approached the head table, Luca was already waiting. He rushed to Ethan's side. "Boss, you alright?" he whispered.
Ethan gave a tight nod. "Too many eyes, too many ears. We'll talk later," he murmured.
During dinner, the entertainment rolled out in grand succession—singers, dancers, even a magician. It was elaborate, excessive. Vitto stood up before dessert, raising his glass and calling for quiet. "Thank you all for being here tonight," he said, his voice commanding yet warm.
"This evening, we celebrate not one, but two new additions to the Marchesi family. First, my beautiful future wife, Lydia Engkeranji. And second, my son—Enzo Matteo Marchesi." A collective gasp spread through the crowd, followed by murmurs and then thunderous applause.
"In two days' time," Vitto continued, "Lydia and I will be officially wed. Until then, eat, drink, and celebrate mi familia."
The music resumed, and servers swept in with trays of wine and delicacies. Ethan picked up his glass, raising it slightly—only for Luca to reach over swiftly and snatch it from his hand. He swapped it with a guard's untouched drink.
"Hey," Ethan said under his breath, startled. But Luca's sharp eyes narrowed, and he gave the barest shake of his head, nodding toward the guard. A moment later, the man took a sip—and collapsed.
Ethan 's blood ran cold. "How did you know?" he whispered.
"The bubbles," Luca replied, deadpan. "Yours had more than everyone else's. And I overheard one of the maids arguing to serve you personally. Turns out, she's affiliated with your sisters." Ethan clenched his fists under the table. His jaw was tight, his face neutral, but his mind was fuming.
Later that night, when the festivities had died down, Luca met Ethan in his room as planned. Ethan recounted everything Vitto had told him, down to the proposal of marriage and the looming threat.
Luca was stunned. "This... this is a war, boss. And they're not playing by any rules. This is a whole another level."
"I need you to dig deeper," Ethan said, his voice cold now. "I want to know everything—what the twins are planning, who they've got watching us, who they've bribed."
"I'll get on it," Luca said, his tone clipped. "For now, we rotate the guards and tighten surveillance. No one gets within ten feet of you unless they go through us first."
Later that evening until morning, the estate pulsed with activity. Florists moved like dancers, placing vibrant blooms in ornate vases; decorators fussed over velvet drapes and golden accents; the rich scent of fresh pastries mingled with that unmistakable air of generational wealth. It should've felt festive, a day of celebration. But the tension hung like fog—thick, suffocating.
Ethan stood near the ceremonial arch, reviewing the layout with quiet precision when a voice broke through the buzz behind him.
"Nephew! There you are. We didn't get a proper chat last night." He turned slowly, already bracing himself. A man approached—tailored to perfection, a smirk curling his lips, eyes gleaming with something far from warmth. "I'm Dominic Marchesi," he said, extending a hand Ethan didn't take. "But you can call me Nic." He paused, his smile widening like an oil slick. "So... where's your little girlfriend? Ava, was it?" His tone was laced with mockery, each syllable sharper than the last.
Ethan's gaze didn't falter. Cold. Unreadable. Before the silence could curdle further, another voice chimed in, softer but firm.
"Come on, Dominic. Ease up." This man was different—taller, less polished in appearance, with a quiet dignity and lines on his face that spoke of years, not schemes. He extended his hand without pretense. "Ethan, I'm Jerome. Also your uncle—just Jerome is fine, if that's more comfortable. I'm genuinely glad you're here. It's... long overdue." The contrast between them was startling—Dominic, alledge and ego; Jerome, calm, seemingly sincere.
Ethan gave a slight nod. "Pleasure," he said evenly.
But his mind was already ticking, clocking the dynamic. The chessboard was set. Dominic scoffed and wandered off, muttering something under his breath, but Jerome remained.
"So," Ethan said, eyes on Jerome, "you're the second siblings after my father. Dominic's third?"
Jerome smiled, a touch sheepish. "Yes. Pardon his eccentricity… behavior. Let's just say he doesn't wear disappointment well." He gave a soft chuckle. "But enough of that. What do you do, Ethan? For work, I mean."
"I'm in property development, mostly. I'm expanding into hospitality now." he said.
Jerome's eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Impressive. You've built all that on your own, before even knowing about us? Now that's… that's something to be proud of." He glanced toward the greenhouse outside the window, mist clinging to its panels.
"My work's a little more… grounded," Jerome added. "I run a plantation—fruits, vegetables, even some exotic herbs. There's something humbling about growing things. Watching them take root, thrive. I've spent years developing that greenhouse out there. You should visit sometime."
Ethan found himself softening, just slightly. "Sure, I'll come visit.." For the first time since arriving, he felt a flicker of ease. Maybe not everyone in the Marchesi family was a viper. But beside him, Luca was quiet. Watching. Reading. He didn't trust Jerome, at least not yet and he filed every word away like a seasoned soldier awaiting the next move.
Later that day before the wedding rehearsal, Ethan and Luca wandered through the estate. Luca kept stopping to respond to messages, his phone buzzing nonstop, while Ethan took the chance to study the grounds more closely.
The garden maze caught his eye—a carefully sculpted design that mimicked the Marchesi family sigil. Intrigued, he stepped in, his footsteps crunching lightly on gravel.
"Stay close," Luca called.
Ethan waved a hand but kept moving, his curiosity pulling him deeper into the maze. Ten minutes later, he emerged into the heart of it—a grand gazebo, far larger than expected. The ceiling arched with gilded beams, and an oversized chandelier glittered above, catching the sun like a thousand fractured stars. He was admiring the craftsmanship when Luca's voice tore through the calm.
"Boss! MOVE!" Luca shouted.
Before Ethan could even register the urgency, Luca slammed into him, shoving him hard. The chandelier crashed down behind them with a sound like a gunshot, shards of crystal exploding across the floor.
Ethan, breathless, turned to see Luca wincing, his hands cut, legs bruised. Just beyond, a figure stood still— Arianna. Her grip loosened on the knife she held. She didn't flinch. Didn't run either. Just gave a lazy smirk and said, "Shame." Then she walked away.
Ethan's heart pounded as he helped Luca to his feet, gratitude swirling with rage. "You okay?" he said, voice thick. "Thank you, Luca. You saved my life."
Luca nodded, trying to play it off, but the pain in his movements betrayed him. Ethan didn't hesitate. He guided him out of the maze and straight to the clinic.
That afternoon, two armed guards flanked Ethan's room door while Luca rested in a hotel room nearby. He then lay in bed, took a rest after the chandelier incident and decided to call Ava.
Ava: Hey, how are you? Are you okay?
Ethan: Hey. I'm okay. Almost got crushed today, long story. Would' ve invited you here, but… it's chaos.
Ava: Oh my God. Are you alright?
Ethan: Yeah. Luca took the hit for me. He's okay too.
Ava: I'm glad. Actually, I was gonna call you… I had to push back the penthouse project a bit.
Ethan: Sure. Why?
Ava: Leo asked me to come to Barcelona. For the race.
A pause.
Ethan: Got it.
Ava: You're not mad, are you?
Ethan: Haha. Why would I be? He's your boyfriend, Ava. You don't need to run things by me.
Ava: Right... yeah. Thanks.
Ethan: That's it?
Ava: Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of the day, Ethan. Be safe.
Ethan: You too.
He set the phone down, jaw tight. He hated this. The distance. The timing. The ache in his chest that wouldn't leave.
'If Ava chose him, would things have been different?'
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that evening before the clock struck 10pm, Ethan stepped into the grand hall. The wedding decoration almost unfolded in golden light, where vows will be spoken, rings will be exchanged, where the tears will be shed.
Everything felt... almost right.
Until Dominic struck again.
"So," he said with a mocking grin, "has Ava mentioned me? I mean, is she your girlfriend or just a fling? Seems like she gets around—kisses you, then runs off with Leo. What's the term? Oh, right. Slut."
Ethan sees nothing except fire boil in his eyes. "Your obsession towards Ava is becoming childish. It really annoyed me." He said to Dominic but he just laughed it off. Without hesitation, he punched Dominic. A blur of fists followed until Jerome and two guards pulled them apart.
"Calm down, boss. " Luca whispered later, his voice low.
Ethan tried. He really did but this guy is relentless!
Across the room, Dominic continued laughing with the elites, whiskey in hand and bleeding in his left mouth corner. He knew Ethan was watching but he acted like he didn't care.
Ethan turned away, the champagne in his hand tasteless. "He doesn't want anything from me," he muttered. "He wants me gone."
"That's the truth," Luca replied. "You're a threat."
"Then he should know by now—I don't break easily." Ethan firmly said and Luca nodded, agreeing.
A toast began before the wedding party, Vitto raised his glass, beaming with pride. But Ethan felt it again—that stare.
Sharp. Calculated. Dominic. Looking at him while raising his champagne glass. A silent challenge passed between them. A declaration of war.
And Ethan knew one thing with absolute clarity. This wasn't over. Not even close.