Blood&Lies

Valentina Marconi.

Her name should have meant something. She was the heir to a legacy that had survived wars, betrayals, and bloodshed. The Marconi Mafia had ruled for centuries, yet when it was finally her turn to take the throne, the world scoffed.

"A woman can't lead."
"Women don't kill."
"She'll be gone in a year."

They whispered, laughed, and underestimated her. But Valentina didn't just survive-she made them choke on their words. She built her empire with her own hands that was slathered in blood, turned doubters into corpses, and proved that she wasn't just a prey.

Yet, no matter how high she climbed, one name always loomed above hers.

Cassian Salvo.

The kingpin of the underworld. A man who didn't need to prove himself-he was power, carved from stone and sharpened by war. Where Valentina had fought for every scrap of respect, Cassian had been born into it, his name alone enough to make men kneel.

He was ruthless, untouchable. A ghost wrapped in Armani, every black-market deal, every whisper of rebellion-it all led back to him.

And Valentina hated him for it. Hated the way his name always came first. Hated the way the world bent to him without question.

Maybe it was the blood in their veins, the fire that ran through generations of Spanish-born rulers who had never known how to bow. Maybe it was fate.