Raven
The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to Raven's skin long after she'd left the hospital room.
She leaned against the cold wall outside, her hands trembling. Her chest rose and fell in uneven waves. It was too much—seeing Luna curled in the hospital bed, pale and quiet, the child's natural light dimmed by IVs and soft beeping machines.
Aurelio had insisted on taking over her care. The private hospital wing was locked down with top-tier security. Doctors were bribed, specialists flown in overnight. He hadn't even asked Raven. Just done it.
She should be grateful. She should.
But all Raven felt was a tidal wave of guilt.
"She's safe now," a voice said beside her.
Isabella.
Raven turned slowly, her old best friend standing there with a look she hadn't worn in years—protective, fierce, and quietly broken. The way they both used to be. The way Aurelio had made them.
"I should have told him," Raven whispered.
Isabella gave a small nod, arms crossed. "Maybe. But considering what you both went through, I understand why you didn't."
Raven looked away. "I just wanted to survive. I didn't think survival would cost Luna her father."
"You were seventeen, Raven. Abandoned. Shamed. Threatened. What choice did you have?"
Raven flinched. "He was the choice."
Isabella's eyes softened, but her jaw stayed tense. "Then make him one now. Before someone else tears this apart again."
A silence stretched between them—heavy and full of regrets.
"I didn't come back to fall into his arms," Raven said, her voice low. "I came back because someone is laundering money through international charities using Santoro shell accounts. And it's tied to Cero Holdings."
Isabella blinked. "Cero?"
"Yeah. And there's more. I found a trail connected to someone called 'Cigno Nero.' A ghost. Whoever they are, they're funding illegal arms and trafficking deals out of Sicily—and they're using your family's abandoned empire to do it."
The color drained from Isabella's face.
Suddenly the photo leak, the nurse's betrayal, the media storm—it all made sickening sense.
Someone wanted chaos.
And Raven was the match they'd used to spark it.
Aurelio
He stood behind a mirrored panel, watching Raven through the glass.
She didn't know he'd followed her.
She didn't know he'd heard everything.
Cigno Nero.
The name punched through his thoughts like a bullet. It wasn't new. It had haunted the darker chapters of his father's reign. A hidden partner. A faceless devil.
And now, it had returned—wrapped in the storm of Raven's reappearance, threatening the child he never knew existed.
His knuckles pressed into the marble counter.
Raven had secrets. Dangerous ones. Ones he couldn't ignore anymore.
But what haunted him more than betrayal... was the way her voice cracked when she said he was the choice.
Later That Night – Luna
Luna stirred.
Her small fingers brushed against the soft fur of her bear, but her dreams were thick with shadows.
She was in a long hallway. The walls breathed like they were alive. Footsteps echoed behind her—slow and heavy.
She turned.
A man with no face reached for her. His hand bled ink, dripping onto the floor in black puddles.
"No!" she cried out, heart pounding.
A light appeared—a soft warmth, like cinnamon and fire. A tall man knelt before her, scooping her into his arms.
"You're safe now, piccola."
The dream faded.
She awoke with a gasp, and the first word that left her lips was whispered like a wish.
"Papa…"
Raven – Morning
She didn't expect to find Aurelio in the hospital room the next morning.
But there he was—sprawled in the recliner beside Luna's bed, head tilted back, eyes red from sleeplessness. His hand rested protectively near Luna's, as if even in unconsciousness, his instincts knew to guard her.
She didn't wake him.
She just stood at the doorway, heart cracked wide open.
Because for all the pain between them, this moment… this fragile, human moment… it was what she'd always dreamed of. Luna safe. Aurelio present. Family—no matter how broken.
But dreams, she knew, always came with a cost.
And somewhere in the shadows… Cigno Nero was still watching.