DEVIL:
It felt like déjà vu. She stood there, trembling, a gun in her hand aimed squarely at me, her intent clear. She wanted to kill me—to end me with her own hands. To take control.
But I couldn't help myself—I chuckled. A low, mocking sound that filled the tense silence.
Walking toward her with the soup bowl in hand, I set it down carefully on the bedside table, slow and deliberate. My eyes never left hers. The horror in them was unmistakable—she was scared. Confused. Hurt.
And I knew exactly how to pull her strings, how to calm her, and break her all over again.
"Wanna be punished again, Ana?" I taunted, my voice laced with dark amusement.
Her snarl was instant, determination flaring in her tear-streaked eyes as she tightened her grip on the gun. "Quit acting smart, Devil. I know who you are now."
"And what are you planning to do with that knowledge?" I asked, tilting my head with feigned curiosity.
"Expose you," she spat. "People deserve to know the real Devil. Or are you afraid? Afraid you won't live up to their expectations? That this entire act is just a facade to hide the monster you are?"
"Ana," I cooed, my tone softer, dripping with sympathy. "You need to calm down. I'll answer all your questions, okay?"
"No!" she snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of her pain. "No more lies, Enzo. I've had enough. You made me believe in you—made me fall for the mask you wore—and then you ripped it all away in an instant. You manipulated me, fed me scraps of truth laced with deceit, and then discarded me as if I was nothing."
"No, Ana," I murmured, taking a step closer, my heart tightening. "You're everything to me."
"Lies!" she screamed, her voice echoing with agony. "All you do is lie. I don't even know what's real anymore. Was anything true? Or have I been a fool all along, falling for your games, your traps, your lies? And now, standing here, looking at you—I can't stop myself from asking... why?"
Her voice cracked, and she broke down, tears streaming freely, her anguish carving cracks into my very soul. She was unraveling in front of me, piece by piece, and I couldn't bear it.
"Why did you do this to me, Enzo?" she sobbed, her hands trembling. "Why did you leave? Why did you hide? Why did you make me shoot you? Just... why?"
I closed the distance between us, heedless of the gun still pointed at my chest, heedless of the pain ripping through my unhealed wounds. None of it mattered.
She mattered.
I wrapped my arms around her as her body shook with the force of her emotions. "It's okay," I whispered, holding her tightly. "Let it out, Ana. Let it all out. I'm here. I'm right here."
This time, she didn't fight me. She didn't push me away. She collapsed into me, her sobs raw and unrelenting, her tears soaking my shirt.
We sank to our knees together, and I cradled her in my arms, letting her unravel completely. Her pain became mine, her despair etched into every fiber of my being.
"I'm not letting go," I whispered, my voice breaking. "No matter how far you fall, I'll catch you, Ana. Every time."
She clung to me, and in that moment, as I held her shattered form against mine, I knew.
The time for silence was over.
Now, she would know everything.
"It all started twenty years ago," I began, my voice low and steady, though the memories clawed at me. Ana sat quietly, her eyes on mine, searching for answers, for truth. I could see the weight of doubt in her gaze, the way her shoulders tensed with the remnants of mistrust. I knew it would take time for her to believe me—time and patience I was ready to give.
I'd promised myself that from now on, I'd be honest with her. No more lies. No more half-truths. It all starts here.
"In the letter, your mother spoke about the friendship between the Romanos and the Winstons," I said, watching as she hung on every word. "But what she couldn't write was the depth of that bond—the dreams they shared, the sacrifices they made for each other. She couldn't write about the betrayal that followed or the horrors they endured. She couldn't write about their final downfall or what came after."
Ana was calmer now, though I couldn't tell if it was trust or exhaustion. Maybe both. But that wasn't my call to make. All I could do was give her what she'd been craving for so long—the truth.
"For years, your grandfather, Theodore, kept a secret—a chest. Inside it was a fortune so immense it could've bought all of Boston in a single stroke. But it wasn't about the wealth for him. At the time, he was struggling. The war had ravaged the world, left families starving, children orphaned. He wanted to help. Build a community. Feed those children in the shelters. And so, he buried himself in the mud, working tirelessly.
"When the world was at its hungriest, your grandfather stepped in. He built a company, one that gave people jobs, hope, opportunities. But building homes and happiness required funds he didn't have. That's when he met my grandfather, Henry Romano."
Ana's brow furrowed, but she said nothing, her silence inviting me to continue.
"Henry Romano was a powerful figure then—a prominent godfather in Russia. His empire dealt in white gold and African diamonds, coveted by every dealer in the world. Henry extended his hand to Theodore, and together, they built something extraordinary. When another war broke out among the dealers, Theodore helped Henry construct a secure safe to protect his assets.
"But Henry never got to see its use." My voice grew quieter, laced with bitterness. "He was killed in that war. And Theodore, left with an unfathomable fortune, found himself in a moral dilemma. My father, Lucas, was an orphan back then, and Theodore took him under his wing. Though he wanted to return the fortune to its rightful heir, he never did. Instead, he used it to grow his company and shared the dream with Lucas. Together, they built an empire, but even empires aren't immune to threats.
"That's when the Alpha came."
"The Alpha?" Ana asked, her confusion etched in her expression.
I nodded grimly. "Yes. It all started with them—their greed."
"What do you mean?" she pressed, her voice hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.
My throat tightened, the memories surging back like a tide I couldn't stop. "That night, when Emma ran with us, we took shelter in Mayor Jonas's house. Amy was unconscious, you were injured, and I was the only one left unscathed. Physically, at least. But the trauma..."
I swallowed hard, my voice faltering as the images replayed in my mind. "The trauma never left me."
I let the silence linger, the weight of that night filling the room. "That night changed everything. It was the night of terror, the night I lost everything."
Ana's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt.
"They found us. They dragged my mother out in front of us—humiliated her, tortured her—and then they killed her, brutally and without mercy." My voice cracked, and tears I couldn't control slipped down my face. I made no effort to hide them.
"Emma barely survived," I continued, my voice a hollow whisper. "The bullet that should've pierced her heart struck her shoulder instead. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered after that. The Alpha took everything from us—our home, our family, our lives. They left us shattered and hollow."
Tears glistened in Ana's eyes, but she stayed silent as I relived the horrors of that night, the night my world fell apart.
"They ruined everything," I said, my voice raw with anguish. "Everything."
"And when Emma thought informing James could help her, she was wrong," I said, my voice heavy with the burden of revelation. "Alessandro got there first. He twisted the narrative, blamed the Mayor for aiding your mother, and had him imprisoned. Emma thought she was saving us, but all she did was paint a target on our backs.
"When we ran, Alessandro came for you too. But my father..." My throat tightened as I recalled the moment. "My father stepped in to protect you."
Ana's face was unreadable, her hands clenched in her lap, her knuckles white.
"Russo manipulated my father, made him believe your mother had destroyed our family. He drugged him, broke him, and forced him to kill her." My voice cracked, but I pushed on. "But the truth, Estrelitta, is that my father wasn't the killer. It was Alessandro Russo.
"When my father came to his senses, he realized what he'd done—or what he'd been made to do. By then, he'd lost everything: his wife, his children, his best friend, his love. All he had left was you. And he knew he had to save you."
I reached for the black box, pulling it from its place of safekeeping, the weight of its contents a physical reminder of everything lost and everything left to fight for. "This," I said, holding it out to her, "is what your grandfather left for you. His will. It states that all Winston property belongs to you after your mother.
"Emma gave me this to keep safe until you were ready. And now you are." I extended the box to her, my hands steady even as hers trembled. "This belongs to you, Estrelitta."
She took it, her hands shaking, tears streaming down her face as she looked at me. Her lips quivered as she whispered, "My mom..." Her voice broke. "She was killed by him!"
"Yes, my Estrelitta." My voice was soft, but the anger simmering beneath it was undeniable. "Alessandro Russo did this. But I swear to you—this is not the end."
I stepped closer, my voice a promise wrapped in steel. "As a Romano, I vowed to take revenge. Revenge for the Winstons and the Romanos. The pain they caused will not go unanswered. I, son of Lucas and Giuliana, grandson of Henry Romano, and brother of Aurora Romano, will bring them all down. One by one. And I promise you—it will be painful."
She shook her head slightly, her tear-streaked face a mixture of doubt and yearning. "But... how do I know you're not lying again? That this isn't all some ploy for the Romanos? How can I believe you?"
I faced her fully, stepping so close I could see every flicker of emotion in her eyes. Slowly, I placed my hand on her cheek, my thumb brushing away her tears. My voice was steady, but every word carried the weight of my soul.
"Look into my eyes, Estrelitta. Look, and tell me if you see lies. If you do, then you're free to walk away—right now."
She stayed silent, her eyes locked on mine, searching.
"I know you've forgotten much of this—we were so young—but I haven't. I promised your mother I would protect you. That I would never let you go. Over time, that promise became my obsession. And now..." My voice deepened, filled with a dangerous intensity. "Now, it has grown into something far more powerful. Something I would kill for. Something I would die for. So believe me when I say this: I will never lie to you again. Never, my love."
Her eyes softened, the storm within them quieting. She looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, there was no fear. No shock. No hate. Only vulnerability. A little girl searching for the truth, for justice, for hope.
And in that moment, I knew.
I knew I would give her everything she needed, everything she wanted—even if it cost me my life.