The peace was shattered on a rainy Tuesday in November.
I was in the garden, watching the raindrops dance on the rosebushes, when the sound of screeching tires and shouting erupted from the front driveway. I froze, a cold dread settling in my stomach.
By the time I reached the foyer, the house was in chaos. Guards were shouting, weapons were drawn, and the air was thick with a sudden, violent electricity.
"Stay in your room, Elena!" Dante roared, his voice booming through the hall.
But I couldn't. I watched from the top of the stairs as a group of men—men who didn't wear the Moretti colors—burst through the front doors. The clash was immediate and brutal. The sound of gunfire ripped through the silence of the estate. *Bang! Bang! Bang!*
I screamed, clutching the railing, as I saw one
