Broken Crowns

The Return

Isabella's POV:

The early morning fog clung to Venice like a shroud, the city a shadow of its former self as the train approached the station. I sat stiffly as my fingers wrapped around the worn leather journal in my lap. I'd run from this place, determined to leave it in my past. But now, the city held something that I couldn't ignore—the key to my father's disappearance. I'd come for answers, and only one name offered a sliver of hope: Luca Rossi.

Venice looked the same, yet felt foreign as I navigated its twisted, narrow streets. Every bridge, every turn, seemed to be watching me. I could feel the weight of my father's secrets, each step taking me deeper into a world that I'd never imagined he inhabited. At last, I arrived at a small café nestled between aging buildings. The air was thick with the scent of espresso, and the windows fogged from warmth inside. This was where I'd find him.

MY heart pounded as I entered and spotted a man alone in the corner, nursing a small cup of coffee and approached him slowly, with a soft voice. "Luca Rossi?"

He looked up, his gaze intense and unreadable. I couldn't place his age, but his face carried a hardness, a guarded look that only years of shadowed work could shape. "Isabella De Luca," he said, as if he had known I was coming.

I was relief mingled with uncertainty. "You knew my father," I said, with a voice laced of vulnerability that I didn't mean to show. "He told me you could help."

Luca gestured for me to sit. His gaze shifted, assessing, weighing my words as if deciding how much I deserved to know.

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Luca's POV:

She was here. I took in the young woman sitting across from me, her face betraying both fear and determination. I had been bracing for this moment ever since I heard whispers about her return to Venice. Alessandro De Luca had been a good man, once, caught in the web of Venice's dark underbelly. I respected him for walking away from that life, even if doing so had meant consequences.

I studied her face, searching for any sign of hesitation. I wanted to warn her, to scare her off, perhaps, but I saw a spark in her eyes that was both reckless and unyielding.

 "Your father was involved in dangerous things," I said finally, his tone measured. "He got tangled in a world that doesn't take kindly to people walking away."

She was silent, her gaze sharp, challenging. For a fleeting moment, I felt a pang of regret. Did she even understand what she was asking of him?

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Isabella POV:

His words sent a chill through me, yet I couldn't turn back now. I had crossed that line the moment she boarded the train. "What kind of world?" I pressed, desperate to hear the truth, no matter how ugly it might be.

Luca's eyes held mine with an intensity that made my stomach tighten. "A world ruled by secrets and shadows. Men who answer to no one. Your father... he kept meticulous records, Isabella. Secrets that could ruin some of Venice's most powerful people."

I clutched her father's journal tighter, disbelief mingling with the need to understand. He had been hiding so much, and now I felt the weight of those hidden parts. "Then why did he leave? Why did he leave me with nothing but this?" my voice cracked, the frustration of years spilling out.

"He left to protect you." Luca's voice softened, if only slightly. "He tried to shield you from this world, but some things... they catch up with you, no matter how far you run."

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Luca's POV:

I could see the weight of my words settling on her, the dawning realization of what her father had sacrificed. Part of me wanted to tell her to go back, to forget this place and whatever answers she thought she wanted. But I knew she wouldn't. Alessandro's blood ran in her veins. Stubbornness and a relentless spirit—she was a De Luca through and through.

"You're dealing with dangerous men, Isabella," I said, as my tone dropping, wanting her to feel the gravity of it. "Matteo Fioravanti, among others. If they knew you were here..."

She looked at me defiantly. "Then let them know," she challenged, and I had to admire her courage, even if it was reckless. "I need to know what happened to my father, and I need you to help me."

I hesitated, torn between loyalty to a friend long gone and a duty to the daughter left behind. "If you go down this path," I warned, "there's no turning back. Your father learned that the hard way."

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Isabella's POV

His words hit me, but they only fueled my resolve. I wasn't a child anymore, and I wouldn't be kept in the dark. "Then guide me," I insisted, my voice steadier than she felt. "Help me find what he left behind. I won't run from this."

Luca's gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable flickering across his face. There was a resignation there, a sadness she couldn't fully understand, but in that moment, I knew that he would help me.

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Luca's POV:

Against my better judgment, I knew that I couldn't refuse her. Alessandro had left her a legacy, and it was clear she wouldn't rest until she knew what that legacy entailed. I could see her spirit, unbroken, undeterred. She had a strength that both worried me and drew me in.

"Fine," I said, with voice rough. "But understand, Isabella: in this world, there is no justice. Only survival." I held her gaze, wanting her to realize the weight of those words. She didn't flinch, and I saw then that she understood.

They rose, the city seeming to close in around them as they stepped out into the fog-laden streets. As I walked beside her, I could feel the gaze of Venice upon them, the city waiting to see what they would uncover.

I couldn't shake the feeling that they were both stepping into something far larger, and far darker, than either of them could imagine. And as much as I wanted to protect her, I knew that once she crossed this line, there would be no going back.