Chapter 1: Welcome Back, Bella
1:44 a.m. Old Dockyard, Outside Palermo
It was dark. Cold. Silent—until the gunshots started.
Six Romano men were trapped behind rusty shipping containers. Bullets flew from all sides. The rival mafia had set a trap, and it was working. Smoke filled the air. One man was already down. Another was bleeding badly.
“We need help!” Rocco shouted, holding his shoulder.
“I called Luca,” Matteo said, ducking behind cover. “He’s not picking up.”
“Then what do we do?!”
“I called her too…”
Rocco’s eyes widened. “You called Bella?”
Matteo nodded. “She’s the only one crazy enough to come right now.”
Just then, a black motorcycle roared into the yard. The sound was sharp, cutting through the chaos. It stopped hard. A woman stepped off—leather jacket, wild black hair, and a bottle still in her hand.
Bella Romano.
She looked drunk.
But her eyes were sharp. Angry. Empty.
“Move,” she said.
And then she charged.
She fought like fire. Quick, wild, fearless. Two men dropped in seconds. She didn’t care about the blood on her hands. She didn’t care about the pain. She just fought.
But she didn’t see the man behind her.
One shot.
The bullet hit her in the side.
She stumbled.
Rocco screamed her name, but she was already falling. Her body hit the ground hard. She didn’t move.
Then—headlights.
Black SUVs rolled in. Doors slammed. Luca Romano(bella's brother )stepped out, gun raised, eyes cold.
“Take her!” he shouted. “Cover them!”
His men rushed forward, bullets flying back. The rival gang scattered fast.
Luca dropped beside Bella. She was pale. Bleeding badly.
“Stay with me, sorellina,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
She didn’t answer.
—
Later, in the hospital, machines beeped beside her bed. Tubes, wires, blood bags.
Bella lay still.
The doctors said it was critical.
Luca didn’t leave her side.
He held her hand. And he waited.
Because if Bella Romano woke up...
someone was going to pay.
Palermo, Private Romano Hospital 3 days later
The room was silent—except for the soft beep of machines.
Bella lay still beneath white sheets, her arm bruised where the IV slid in, her side stitched where the bullet had gone through. Pale, unmoving. A shadow of the woman who had fought like fire just days before.
Outside, rain tapped against the glass.
In the chair beside her sat a young woman—dark curls tied back, sharp eyes watching everything. Her name was Gianna. A trusted Romano soldier. Loyal. Quiet. Deadly when needed.
Luca had told her to stay with Bella.
“She won’t talk,” he’d said. “But stay anyway.”
So she stayed.
Gianna had watched Bella bleed, seen the legendary “La Sombra” fall. And now, she was watching her breathe.
Then—Bella’s fingers twitched.
Gianna sat up, eyes locked on her.
A sharp breath. Then another.
Bella’s eyes fluttered open.
She blinked hard, as if reality was slow to return. Her chest rose and fell unevenly. Her lips parted.
She looked terrified.
Her fingers gripped the bedsheet, and her eyes filled with something Gianna had never seen in Bella Romano.
Tears.
A moment passed where she almost broke—almost let it all out.
But then—just as quickly—it vanished.
She shut it down. Swallowed it whole. The Romano mask returned.
Her voice was dry, trembling slightly. “What… what happened to me?”
“You were shot,” Gianna answered quietly. “At the dockyard. You saved our men. You almost died.”
Bella turned her face toward the ceiling. Silent.
After a long pause, she whispered, “Where’s Luca?”
“He’ll come soon,” Gianna said.
Bella blinked slowly. Her voice came back lower, steadier.
“…Why are you here?”
“He told me to stay.”
Bella didn’t respond. Her gaze drifted to the rain-slicked window, to the storm outside.
She didn’t ask anything more.
And Gianna didn’t push.
She just stayed but thought to herself why was bella so terrified? What has happened to her? Where was she for a year ?
—
Across the city Midnight
Luca Romano stood in front of a sleek, glass-fronted building—the headquarters of the Bernardi family’s tech empire.
Three guards were already dead.
The air reeked of gasoline.
His men were silent, waiting.
Luca lit the match.
“No one touches my family,” he said softly.
Then he dropped it.
Flames bloomed upward, swallowing glass and steel and years of power. It burned fast and loud. But Luca didn’t flinch.
He turned his back on the fire—and walked away.
—
