The intense moment came to a sudden halt as Victor's phone began to ring incessantly. He was hovering over Alia, his fingers gently brushing her hair aside (Victor fixes her hair). Just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, the vibrating phone broke the spell.
Victor answered with irritation, but as he listened to the deep, urgent voice on the other end, his ice-blue eyes shifted. He hung up and stared at Alia for a long moment.
Victor: (In a tense voice) "Alia, you need to leave for Italy tonight."
Alia was stunned. The romantic atmosphere evaporated instantly. She sat up, adjusting her clothes, and looked at him in disbelief.
Alia: "Italy? Why so suddenly? Victor, what's going on? Is it Aryan Romanov? Is there a threat?"
Victor stood by the window, his back to her, jaw clenched. It was rare to see him this unsettled.
Victor: (In a low, uncertain tone) "I don't know, Alia (I don't know, Alia). All I know is that your presence is required immediately. A coded signal came from our old hideout in Rome—one that can only be decrypted by you."
Alia walked over and took his hand. Usually, Victor had all the answers, but his "I don't know" sent a chill down her spine.
Alia: "I won't go without you. What about the children? What about Marco?"
Victor: "The children are safe with me. But you must go. Perhaps a secret from your past or a truth about our empire is waiting there for you."
Victor pulled her into a hug, pressing a calm but lingering kiss to her forehead. This time, the embrace wasn't filled with fire—it was filled with the cold shadow of an unknown future.The private jet touched down on the tarmac in Rome, greeted by a chilling breeze and an atmosphere of heavy silence. Alia stepped out, holding little Marco close to her chest. Dressed in a long black trench coat, she looked every bit the powerful Godmother she was.
As she descended the stairs, she was met with a breathtaking sight: rows upon rows of black luxury cars (Rows of black luxury cars) lined up perfectly on the runway. Dozens of black SUVs and Mercedes stood in formation, with armed guards dressed in black suits bowing their heads in respect as she passed.
Italian Chief Guard: (Bowing) "Welcome, Godmother. The roads of Rome have been cleared for you. Nothing will stand in your way."
Alia remained silent, her gaze scanning the massive convoy. Bringing Marco with her was a gamble, but she knew the truth about his past was buried somewhere in this ancient city.
She slid into the back of a black limousine, Marco sleeping peacefully in her arms. As the convoy sped away from the airport, the streets were filled with the sound of sirens and the sight of tinted windows cutting through the Roman morning.
Alia: (Thinking to herself) "Victor said he didn't know why I was sent here. But this royal welcome says otherwise. Someone has been waiting for me for a very long time."
The convoy headed toward a secluded villa on the outskirts of Rome, where the next chapter of her life and the secrets of her past were about to be unveiled. As Alia entered the grand chamber, she was met with a sight that made her heart skip a beat. Standing by the edge of a shimmering indoor pool was her ex-boyfriend, Lord Marcos.
He had just emerged from the water, a white towel wrapped around his waist (Lord Marcos has a white towel wrapped around him). Drops of water glistened on his sculpted chest and slid down his toned muscles. His most striking feature was his golden, cat-like eyes (Golden cat-like eyes), which pierced through the dim light of the room. On either side of his broad shoulders were intricate red rose tattoos (Red rose tattoos on both sides), adding a touch of dark elegance to his lethal frame.
Seeing Alia, a predatory smirk crept across his face. He looked at her and slowly licked his lips (He licks his lips) with a thirst that had been suppressed for years.
Marcos: (In a deep, haunting voice) "It's been a long time, Alia. I've been restless, waiting to see you and my little heir."
Alia clutched little Marco tighter. She finally understood the gravity of the situation. Lord Marcos wasn't just a shadow from her past; he was a powerful Mafia Lord, and the father of the child in her arms.
Alia: "Why have you brought us here, Marcos? If Victor finds out, he will turn Rome into a graveyard."
Marcos laughed, stepping closer until she could feel the damp heat from his body. His golden eyes locked onto hers, filled with a dangerous obsession.
Marcos: "Victor Romanov plays with dust; I play with blood. This child isn't just yours, Alia he is mine. And from today, you both belong in my golden cage." As little Marco reached out his tiny hands toward Lord Marcos, whispering "Pa... Pa...", the air in the room grew heavy with tension. Alia felt a sharp pang in her heart. The truth she had suppressed was now being spoken by the child's innocent voice. But her eyes held no love—only cold, burning resentment.
Alia stared directly into Marcos's golden eyes, her voice like ice.
Alia: "The child calls for you, Marcos, because your blood runs in his veins. But have you forgotten what you did? When I was lying in a hospital bed in a coma, fighting for every breath—where were you?"
She stepped closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and rage.
Alia: "I woke up from that coma to find you gone. You ran away in fear? That was just at the end of last year—it hasn't been long at all (It hasn't been long). Only a few months ago you abandoned me like a corpse, and now you make this grand display to bring me back?"
Marcos stood frozen. His predatory smirk faded. He tightened the towel around his waist and lowered his head for a split second.
Marcos: (In a low voice) "Alia, you don't know the pressure I was under. The Roman politics, my father's enemies..."
Alia: "Shut up! Victor saved me when you left me to die. By what right do you claim my child today?"
Marcos suddenly snapped back into his fierce persona. He moved dangerously close, his breath hitting her skin.
Marcos: "Victor showed you mercy, but I show you passion, Alia. I died every night during those months without you. Now that you are here, I will never let you leave."
The baby continued to reach for the rose tattoos on Marcos's arms, unaware of the vast ocean of blood and betrayal that now stood between his parents.Stunned by Alia's fierce demeanor, Marcos realized that the soft-hearted girl he once knew was gone—replaced by the cold-blooded Godmother of the Romanov empire. Ignoring the baby's innocent cries, Alia cut straight to the point.
Alia: "Shut up! I don't have time for your useless excuses. Tell me why you brought me and my child here under this royal guard? Tell me your real motive, Marcos. Straight to the point."
Marcos slicked back his wet hair, a cunning glint appearing in his golden eyes. He walked toward a marble table by the pool, lit a cigar, and took a deep drag.
Marcos: (Exhaling smoke) "You were always the smart one, Alia. Fine, I'll be blunt. Victor Romanov thinks he can finish Aryan Romanov and take over all of Europe. But he doesn't know that the keys to the Italian underworld are now in my hands."
He stepped closer, the scent of chlorine and expensive cologne radiating from his damp skin.
Marcos: "I brought you here because I want a deal (Deal). Tell Victor to stop his ships from entering Italian ports. In exchange, I'll set you and the boy free. If he refuses..."
Marcos licked his lips and looked at the baby.
Marcos: "Then this child will grow up knowing only his real father's identity, and you will remain here as my captive queen."
Alia turned away in disgust. She realized Marcos wasn't just a ghost from her past; he was now Victor's greatest rival. Perhaps Victor had sent her here knowing Marcos wouldn't listen to anyone but her.
Alia: "You're still as pathetic as ever, Marcos. Victor won't take a minute to crush you. And my child? He will never grow up with the name of a traitor."Alia's voice was as hard as stone. There was no sign of fear in her eyes, only pure disdain.
Alia: "And what if I say no? What if I tell Victor to burn this entire palace to the ground? You don't know him, Marcos. He would turn all of Italy into a graveyard to avenge an insult to his Godmother."
Just as Marcos opened his mouth to respond, something unexpected happened. Little Marco suddenly reached out his tiny hands. He tried to grab his father's muscular arm, right where the rose tattoo (Rose tattoo) was.
The baby gently touched his father's chest (The baby touches his father) and rubbed his cheek against Marcos's damp skin. Marcos, who had been acting like a ruthless mafia lord, froze instantly at the child's touch. A different kind of softness appeared in his golden, cat-like eyes.
Marcos: (In a low voice) "Do you see, Alia? Even if you deny it, this blood won't let you lie. He knows me."
Alia shuddered at the sight. She felt the ground slipping from beneath her feet. The truth she had hidden behind Victor's shadow was now standing before her in the form of a raw, biological connection.
Alia: (Desperately) "No! Marco, don't go to him! He is nothing to us!"
But the baby was now burying his face in Marcos's neck, pulling at his wet hair with tiny fingers. Ignoring Alia, Marcos gently took the child into his arms. The soft touch of the baby against his wet, tattooed skin created a strange, haunting contrast.
Marcos: (With a triumphant smile) "Now tell me, Alia. Can you really take a father away from his child? Victor may love him, but my venom flows through his veins."
Alia stood helpless. She realized this wasn't just a battle for power anymore; it was a terrifying maze of blood and emotion.