The morning sun cast golden light through the tall windows of the De Luca estate, too gentle for the weight of the business that was about to unfold inside. It was one of those mornings Adriana would later replay in her mind a thousand times—before the fire, before the blood, before the silence.

  In the grand hall, surrounded by her father’s most trusted men, he walked in—Norman.

  She hadn’t seen him in years, not since their childhood games ended and their lives turned into something darker. And now, he entered like he belonged here—older, broader, with that same smugness tucked behind his every move. His sharp suit couldn’t hide what he truly was: dangerous. But it suited him.

  He moved like a man who knew the world owed him something.

  “Adriana,” he said, with a voice lower and smoother than she remembered. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his dark green eyes locked onto hers. He raised two fingers in a lazy wave. “Still pretending you hate me?”

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  She rolled her eyes, arms folded over her chest. “I’m not pretending.”

  Norman laughed under his breath. There was nothing childish about him now—light skin like porcelain, soft brunette hair swept back effortlessly, and eyes like forest shadows. He was no longer the boy who used to pull her braid just to get her to scream. He was a man now. A powerful one. And she hated that he was attractive.

  Her father entered then, greeting Norman with warmth that irritated her more than it should. They were discussing a sensitive deal—the transmission of high-purity cocaine to Russia. Adriana knew it was dangerous, but that was the business. Her family thrived in shadows. Norman? He ruled in them.

  As the men spoke in hushed tones near the old map of Europe, Adriana watched him carefully. There was something about the way he held himself, like he wasn’t really listening to her father—his attention kept slipping back to her.

  That smirk again.

  She clenched her jaw and turned away. She had always hated him. She had to hate him. Because if she didn’t, she'd have to admit what she felt when she looked into those cursed eyes.

  That morning, she had no idea it would be the last time her family’s home would smell like breakfast and cigars. She had no idea that in less than a month, their blood would paint the walls, their bodies lying cold in the house she now stood in.

  And she never imagined that he—Norman—would be the one standing at the edge of her memory.

  The one she would swear to kill herself.