Page 6 of Secret Bratva Twins

He tilts his head, his eyes hardening. “Then you do what they did to us. An eye for an eye, Chiara. A life for a life.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. I feel my breath hitch as I consider them. The idea of Serge Sharov paying for my father’s death is tempting, almost intoxicating. The thought of getting close to him, of playing his game, makes my stomach churn.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I ask quietly.

Dante’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Then we adapt. You’re the only one who can get close enough to make it happen. You have the strength, Chiara, and you have me. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

I glance at the shattered mirror, the jagged pieces reflecting distorted fragments of myself. The fury, the pain, the grief—it’s all there, staring back at me. Slowly, I straighten, the fire in my chest no longer threatening to consume me but sharpening into something cold and focused.

“Fine,” I say, my voice steady. “I’ll play his game. I’ll give him the partnership he wants.”

Dante nods, a flicker of pride in his eyes.

“I’ll be the one who decides when it ends,” I add, my tone deadly. “And how.”

A small, satisfied smile spreads across Dante’s face. “That’s my girl.”

As he moves to clean up the mess, I step closer to the window, staring out at the twinkling city. The Sharovs think they’ve won, that they’ve broken the Vincis. They have no idea what’s coming for them.

I’ll make sure Serge Sharov learns that the hard way.

Chapter Three - Serge

Roman sits across from me, flipping through a thick file with a bored expression. “She went to private school in Florence, graduated top of her class, spent a year at some Ivy League school before transferring back to Italy. She speaks four languages fluently—”

“Enough of that,” I cut him off, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t need her resume. Tell me something unique. Something… interesting.”

Roman frowns, clearly puzzled. “Unique?” He pauses, flipping another page. “Uh, she’s lactose intolerant?”

I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “Lactose intolerant,” I repeat. “Fascinating.”

Roman shakes his head, setting the file down. “You’re the one who asked.”

The corners of my mouth twitch upward as I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Chicago office. The skyline stretches endlessly, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath it. “I’ve called her here,” I say casually, drumming my fingers on the desk.

Roman narrows his eyes. “Chiara Vinci. To Chicago.”

“Yes,” I confirm, enjoying the look of surprise on his face. “It’s time to push this business partnership forward.”

His brows furrow, and he leans forward slightly. “I know why you’re doing this.”

“Do you?” I arch an eyebrow, genuinely curious about his interpretation.

“She reminds you of Anthony, doesn’t she?” Roman’s voice softens, but his gaze remains steady. “You couldn’t savehim, so now you feel obligated to save her. Make things right. It’s guilt.”

The mention of Anthony is like a small knife twisting in my chest, but I don’t let it show. Roman always had a way of cutting through the noise, but this time, he’s wrong. I chuckle, a low, dark sound that fills the room. “You think I have a heart that soft?”

Roman leans back, skepticism etched across his face. “Don’t you?”

“Come on, Roman.” I shake my head, smirking. “I thought you knew me better than that by now.”

I get up and walk to the minibar, pouring myself a drink. The amber liquid swirls in the glass as I turn back to face him. “Chiara Vinci is sharp, I’ll give her that. She’s built her family back up after we left them in ruins; but she’s young. She’s emotional. And because of that, she’s easy to manipulate.”

Roman exhales through his nose, his disapproval clear. “You’re planning to use her.”

“Use her? Roman, you make it sound so crude.” I sip my drink, savoring the burn. “She’s my gateway to power. If we cut her brother Lorenzo out of the picture, Chiara becomes the sole heir to the Vinci fortune.”

Roman’s eyes darken. “Then what? You expect her to just hand it over?”

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