The weekend rolled in, bringing with it a tense energy that thrummed through my veins, the kind that only came after a week of waiting, calculating, and bracing for impact. 

Every corner of my mind had been occupied by the silent battle unfolding in my own home. Tonight was the night I'd begin to take it all back.

I arrived at the bar Ophelia had chosen, one of Michele's spots—discreet, heavily guarded, and known only to those who had a reason to be there. 

It wasn't flashy, but it didn't need to be. 

The kind of place where a conversation stayed buried deep, no matter who was listening.

 As I walked up to the entrance, the buzz of the city outside faded, leaving me alone with the sound of my heartbeat.

Inside, it was dim, shadows stretching into the corners of the room. 

The smell of expensive whiskey and leather clung to the air, mixing with the low hum of voices. 

Ophelia sat at a booth near the back, a glass in hand, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp.

She looked up as I approached, giving me a look that wasn't quite a greeting but more an acknowledgment. 

That fire in her eyes—familiar, steady.

This wasn't just some casual meet-up. 

It was something bigger. 

Two forces, each carrying their own weight, sitting across from each other, ready to do what needed to be done. 

But for now, I slipped into the booth across from her, shoulders easing just a bit.

"Ophelia," I greeted her, sliding into the booth across from her.

"Serafina," she responded, her voice low and serious. 

No pleasantries, no small talk—just the raw edge of the truth we both needed to face.

"I trust you've been busy." I signaled to the bartender for a drink, keeping my eyes on her. 

This wasn't a social call; this was strategy.

Ophelia nodded, leaning forward slightly. "You could say that. The Russians have been active—very active. They've been moving quietly, but not quietly enough."

"What have you found?"

She took a breath, her expression tightening as she chose her words carefully. "The Russians are planning something big, Lady Moretti. They see the alliance between the Italians and the French as a threat, something that could shift the balance of power. They want to hit us hard—take us both out in one blow. If they succeed, they'll be in a position to crush the rest of the major mafias: American, Mexican, South Asian and East Asian. It's not just about survival for them anymore. It's about becoming untouchable, the ones who rule everything."

My grip on the glass tightened. 

The thought of the Russians gaining that kind of power, using our alliance as an excuse to launch their empire, was infuriating. 

But more than that, it was dangerous. 

If they succeeded, the repercussions would be catastrophic.

"They're ambitious," I said, my voice cool. "But ambition often leads to recklessness. What else?"

Ophelia's eyes darkened as she leaned back in her chair, her posture deceptively relaxed. 

Yet, the weight in her gaze was sharp, deliberate, cutting straight through me like a blade. 

She exhaled slowly, her voice steady but brimming with restrained intensity.

"It's Eleanor."

The name hit me like a shard of ice.

I didn't flinch. I had trained myself not to. 

But inside, a chill slithered through my spine, wrapping around my ribs like a viper. 

Eleanor. 

The woman who had lived under my roof. 

The one I'd watched laugh with Lucien, touch him, hold him. 

The woman who played the part so perfectly, I'd almost believed she belonged.

Almost.

I had suspected it. 

Felt it in my bones, like a whisper in the dark warning me to tread carefully. 

But suspicions were fleeting, intangible things. 

This, though—this was a confirmation I hadn't been prepared to face.

Ophelia's voice cut through the silence like a scalpel. "She's not who she says she is." She leaned forward, her sharp gaze locking on mine. "She's not some random girl who caught Lucien's eye at a party. She's a Russian spy."

A low growl rumbled in my throat, but I forced myself to stay quiet, to listen.

Ophelia didn't stop. She couldn't. "Her real name is Ekaterina Ivanova. She's Denis Ivanov's daughter. You know who that is."

I did. Denis Ivanov. A name that carried weight in the Russian underworld like a boulder on your chest. 

A highly influential mobster. A man who didn't play games unless he was guaranteed to win.

"She's been gathering intelligence on us for the past two years," Ophelia continued, her words heavy with disgust. "And feeding it back to Dimitri Morozov."

Dimitri. The name tasted like bile in my mouth.

The room seemed to shrink around me as the pieces began to snap into place, one by one, with a horrifying clarity. 

The bugs we'd found planted in the house. 

The controller Alessio had discovered hidden in her room. 

The almost imperceptible shifts in her demeanor when certain names were mentioned, or when Lucien's back was turned.

Eleanor—or Ekaterina, as I now had to think of her—hadn't just been a pawn. 

She was a calculated move, a Trojan horse placed directly into the heart of our operations. 

She had been sitting at our table, smiling at our jokes, sleeping in our home, fuking my husband, while feeding our secrets to our enemies.

My fists curled tightly on the desk in front of me, nails biting into my palms until they threatened to draw blood.

"That bitch," I hissed through gritted teeth, venom dripping from every syllable. My voice was low, trembling with fury. "She's been stealing intel for two years?"

Ophelia nodded, her expression grim but resolute.

"She's more dangerous than we thought, Serafina. This isn't just betrayal. It's a war she's been building from the inside out."

And she had been doing it right under my nose.                 

Ophelia nodded her expression hard. "She's good, Serafina. Better than most. But she slipped up. She got too comfortable, and that's when I started piecing things together. She's been sending regular updates to Dmitri, and I've intercepted some of her messages. They're planning something big—something soon."

Anger flared hot in my chest, but I forced myself to remain calm, to think. "This week," I said, my voice controlled, "I found cameras and microphone in my house. The controller was in Eleanor's room. At first I thought that its staged, but now it confirmed that its her! After this discovery, I didn't just let her continue. I've been feeding her false information." 

Ophelia's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of approval in her gaze. "Smart. If she passes that on..."

"She will," I interrupted. "And when she does, it'll be a disaster for the Russians. They'll make their move based on faulty intelligence, and it will backfire. I've been careful, crafting fake plans that seem legitimate but are laced with traps. When she delivers those to Dmitri, he'll think he's got the upper hand."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Ophelia's lips. "And when he realizes it's a setup..."

"He'll lose faith in her," I finished. "He'll think she's either incompetent or a double agent. Either way, it'll destroy the trust between them. And in this line of work, a lack of trust is a death sentence."

Ophelia nodded, her eyes gleaming with the same fire I felt burning inside me. "You're playing a risky game, Serafina. But it's the right one. If this works..."

"It will work," I said firmly. "It has to. We're not just dealing with Eleanor or the Russians. This is about survival—ours and the future of our families. The French, the Italians, we're stronger together. But we can't let them tear us apart from within."

My gaze softened for a fraction of a second, to see her from the eyes of a women, rather a boss.

She said Luca was hers.

She has high cheekbones and pale skin. Her accent confirms that she belong from southern Europe.

She is broad and tall, her face has that rigidity you get after going through endless wars, coming out stronger from each of them.

She is a perfect epitome of a warrior.

Whereas Luca, was more laid back than her.

He did everything as if it was a child's play. He never really cared about anything, except for one—pride

They loved each other and now he is not because of me. 

He gave up his own life to save me and also due to my miscalculations.

But, wait.

But what if— What the fuck if it was Eleanor who gave the news to Viktor about our mission.

She had full access to the conference room, the balcony where I usually work, the papers scattered on the tables. 

She is definitely the one who passed this news to Viktor and he sat there, waiting for us to make a fool of ourselves.

He watched us losing like it was fucking glorious. 

"I knew Luca would fall for a woman with a mind as sharp as yours," I said quietly. "He saw what you were capable of. So do I."

For a moment, the weight of Luca's memory hung between us. 

He had seen potential in me, and had believed in me when I was still finding my footing in this world. 

His loss had carved a hole in my heart, but it had also hardened me, and made me the woman I needed to be to survive in this ruthless world.

"I miss him too," she  said, my voice softer now, the edge of my anger giving way to the raw ache of grief. "But he's gone. And right now, the only thing that matters is protecting what we all have built."

I nodded, her gaze steady. "We'll honor his memory by doing what we do best—surviving, fighting, winning."

I lifted my glass, a silent toast to the man we both had loved and to the future we would fight to secure. "To Luca," I said.

"To Luca," Ophelia echoed, clinking her glass against mine.

We drank the burn of the whiskey a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions swirling inside me. 

But the reprieve was brief. 

There was still much to do, and the stakes had never been higher.

"I've got a plan," I said, setting my glass down and leaning forward. "We're going to let Eleanor think she's still in control, still playing us. But every step she takes will lead her deeper into the trap. And when she's completely ensnared, we'll bring her down. Hard."

Ophelia's smile was cold, and calculating. "She won't know what hit her."

"Exactly. But we need to be careful. She's dangerous, and if she senses we're onto her, she'll bolt. We need her to feel safe, secure in the knowledge that she's deceiving us."

"Agreed," Ophelia said, her voice tight with determination. "But once we've got what we need from her, she's done. No loose ends."

I nodded. "No loose ends. But we need to think about the bigger picture, too. The Russians won't stop just because Eleanor is out of the game. We need to hit them where it hurts."

"And that's where my intel comes in," Ophelia said. "I've been tracking their movements, gathering information on their operations. They're planning a series of coordinated attacks, not just against us, but against our allies. If we can disrupt those plans..."

"We can cripple them," I finished. "But we need to be smart about it. We can't just react—we need to anticipate their moves, stay one step ahead."

Ophelia reached into her coat and pulled out a small flash drive, sliding it across the table to me. "This has everything I've gathered so far. Their supply chains, their key players, and their upcoming operations. Use it wisely."

I took the drive, my fingers curling around it. 

This was the weapon we needed to turn the tide, to take the fight to them instead of just defending ourselves. 

With this, we could strike at the heart of their operations and bring them to their knees.

"This is good work, Ophelia," I said, meeting her gaze. "Luca would be proud."

Her expression softened again, the steel in her eyes momentarily giving way to something more vulnerable. "I do it for him," she said quietly. "And for you. We can't let them win, Serafina. We can't let them take everything we've built."

"We won't," I promised, my voice fierce with conviction. "We're stronger than they are. Smarter. And we're going to prove it."

The conversation turned tactical as we began to outline our next steps. 

Every detail was scrutinized, and every potential outcome was analyzed. 

There was no room for error, not when so much was at stake. 

We discussed the fake plans I'd fed Eleanor, and how to amplify the false intelligence so that Dmitri would be convinced of its legitimacy. 

We planned our counterattacks, identifying the key targets within the Russian operations that we could strike at to cause the most damage.

Hours passed, and the whiskey glasses were refilled more than once as we fine-tuned our strategy. By the time we were done, the bar was nearly empty, the night outside giving way to the first light of dawn. But despite the late hour, I felt more energized than I had in days. We had a plan, and it was a damn good one.

As we stood to leave, Ophelia paused, her hand resting on the back of her chair. "Serafina, if things go sideways... If Eleanor catches wind of what we're doing, she could run straight to Dmitri. And if she does..."

"I know," I said, my voice firm. "But we can't afford to let fear dictate our actions. We have to trust that we've covered our tracks, and that we're smarter than she is. And if she does run..." I shrugged, a cold smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "We'll deal with her."

Ophelia returned the smile, her eyes flashing with that familiar fire. "Damn right, we will."

We left the bar together, the weight of the night's revelations heavy on our shoulders but tempered by the resolve in our hearts. 

The streets were quiet, the city still asleep as we made our way to our cars. 

The battle ahead would be fierce, but I felt a sense of calm settle over me. We were ready.

"Be careful, Ophelia," I said as we reached our cars. "We're in this together, but we can't afford to lose anyone else."

She nodded, her expression serious. "Same goes for you, Serafina. We need you."

I watched as she drove away, her taillights disappearing into the early morning fog. 

Alone now, I took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs and clearing my mind. 

The road ahead was dangerous, and fraught with uncertainty, but I was ready for whatever came next.

Eleanor thought she was clever, thought she could outmaneuver us. 

But she had no idea what she was up against. 

We were going to turn the tables on her, on the Russians, on anyone who dared to challenge us.

And when the dust settled, the Moretti family would stand stronger than ever. 

No one would threaten us and live to tell the tale.

With that thought burning in my mind, I climbed into my car and drove back to the house, ready to set the next phase of our plan into motion.