Chapter 4: The Million's

Franco dragged me toward the car, his grip unrelenting. My feet barely touched the ground as he shoved me forward, my mind spinning, my body shaking.

"The angel has fallen," he muttered under his breath, almost like he was amused by it.

"No," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

How could Enzo do this? The boy who once whispered promises in my ear, who once held my hand like I was something fragile. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him.

"You better get used to calling him Don, Miss Diana," Franco sneered as he forced me into the backseat.

"He wouldn’t do this," I choked out, shaking my head. "He wouldn’t!"

Franco slammed the door shut and leaned in close, his voice dropping to something cold and final.

"Wake up, Miss Diana. Word of advice—keep your mouth shut and your head down." His eyes darkened. "That’s how we survived when your father took over."

My father has a safe inside his room," I blurted out, desperation clawing at my throat. "Millions. I'll give you the code."

Franco didn’t even blink. He let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel as the car sped down the darkened streets.

"All that doesn’t matter, Diana," he said, his tone almost pitiful. "You don’t get it."

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering against my skin. "What do you mean?"

Franco finally looked at me through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable.

"All that D’Angelo owned now belongs to Enzo," he said simply. Then, after a beat, he added, "That includes you, Diana."

We are part of the Big Four," I whispered, my mind racing. "If the other families find out, they’re—"

Franco let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "How do you think Enzo got into the party, Diana?"

I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat.

"He had someone on the inside."

The weight of his words crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Before I could respond, Franco pressed his foot on the gas, and the car sped off into the night.

Enzo leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he locked eyes with Carlos Lombardi. The dimly lit room smelled of smoke and blood—remnants of the night’s carnage still fresh in the air.

"Without the Lombardi family's support, this would have been much harder," Enzo admitted, taking a slow sip of his drink. His voice was smooth, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the storm beneath.

Carlos smirked, leaning forward as he stubbed out his cigar. "All good, Enzo. I was getting tired of that old bastard Andreas anyway. The D'Angelos have had their reign for too long."

Enzo’s lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer. "And now, it's our time."

Carlos took a sip of his own drink before asking, "What about Dante D'Angelo?"

Enzo’s expression darkened, his grip tightening around his glass. "We’ll dispose of him when we find him."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. "You really want to wipe out the entire bloodline, don’t you?"

Enzo set his glass down with a soft clink, his eyes cold and unyielding. "I want him to suffer first."

I sat in the back of the speeding car, my wrists aching from the tight grip Franco had on me. My entire body felt numb, but my mind raced. How had everything collapsed in a single night?

I stirred awake as the car came to a stop, my body aching from the uncomfortable position I had been in all night. My head felt heavy, my mind sluggish from exhaustion and grief.

The morning sun streamed through the tinted windows, casting an eerie glow inside the vehicle. For a brief second, I forgot where I was—until the car door swung open.

"Miss Diana, we’re here."

Franco’s voice yanked me back to reality. His rough hand grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the car.

"Let me go!" I thrashed against him, my feet kicking up dust as I struggled.

Franco sighed, barely fazed. "Miss Diana, stop."

I twisted in his grip, my heart hammering in my chest. "You don’t have to do this! Please!"

"Don’t make this harder than it needs to be." His tone was firm, but there was something else there—pity, maybe.

I didn’t want his pity.

I fought him all the way up the stone steps of the grand estate, my screams echoing through the empty courtyard. The place was cold, lifeless—nothing like the D'Angelo mansion. Nothing like home.

As soon as we reached the entrance, the doors swung open. And there he was.

Enzo.

He stood tall, dressed in all black, his sharp features unreadable. His dark eyes settled on me, unwavering, unaffected. The boy I had loved was gone. In his place stood a man I barely recognized.

Franco pushed me forward. "She’s your problem now, boss."

"Be gentle with her," Enzo said, voice like steel.

Franco smirked. "Mr. Enzo, Diana D’Angelo is no longer a princess. She’s our prisoner. I need you to remember that."

There was a long silence. Enzo didn’t look away from me.

"I understand."

Franco gave a slight nod before turning and walking away, leaving me alone with the devil himself.

The second Franco disappeared, I swallowed hard and met Enzo’s gaze. My voice came out hoarse, desperate.

"Where is Maria?"

“You should get some sleep," Enzo said, his voice unnervingly calm. "You’ve got a big night coming up."