Page 1 of The Shadow King's Brother

Chapter1

Victoria Galli

They saya clean office is a sign of a clean mind.

Mine, then, is a disaster area.

The jasmine scent from the diffuser battles the dusty smell of neglected paperwork. These chandeliers, though... the soft, golden light almost tricks me into believing I’m in control.

Almost.

The numbers on the screen blur—another quarter, another round of headaches. I was never meant for this, not really. My plan had been different. A detective’s office, a glass door with my name etched across it. But plans shift. Dreams get shelved. And now, I do the finances for the De Luca empire, wading through spreadsheets instead of crime scenes. Numbers were always easy for me—safe, predictable—but I’m no expert. I keep waiting for someone to notice, to point out that I don’t belong here.

A rogue thought, unwelcome as always, claws its way in: Almost a year. Almost a year since the world tilted on its axis, since everything fractured.

The financial report in my hand feels heavy.

A flash of red—Naomi’s lipstick, too bright on her lifeless face—cuts through the spreadsheets. Then, the cold creeps in. Dante’s basement. The gunfire. The way it rang in my ears for days. I blink hard, shove it back down, and focus on the numbers. Numbers are safer than faces. Cleaner than blood.

Almost a year since Jackson slammed his badge on the precinct desk, his face a mask of grief I never want to see again. A year since he found his wife Carol slumped over the bathroom counter, a bottle of pills and a hastily scribbled note beside her.

I still seeJackson’s kids in my mind’s eye at the funeral—in black, their tiny bodies swallowed by oversized suits, faces pale and drawn, like little ghosts trying to hold it together in a world turned upside down.

Soon,we’ll mark a year of pain.But we’re alive.

I try to push the memories away because they hurt too damn much. Most days, I succeed. But today? Not so much. The details resurface like a horror slideshow, playing on a loop in the back of my mind.

I look around. Elio, being Elio, didn’t just give me an office—he tried to give me a sanctuary in his building. It almost makes me feel like I’s supposed to be here.

But even surrounded by lush plants and soundproofed windows, the past is a stalker.

For the last year, we’ve been digging through the De Luca empire’s internal corruption—the mafia ties, the illegal businesses—weeding out the rot my father and Elio’s father let fester. It’s tedious and exhausting. And beneath the surface, the old corruption clings tight, like a stubborn shadow.

The old world, when my father was still alive.

Another memory flares like lightning.

My mother,at Father’s funeral. Her hand rested on my shoulder. She looked like a CEO closing a deal gone wrong—composed, controlled, but with something sharp in her eye. I’d been crying, the kind of sobbing that hollows you out, that makes your chest ache.

Her voice cut through it all, barely above a whisper: “It’s done, Vickie.”

Those words weren’t for me. She was convincing herself. It was over. Move on. And I was supposed to fall in line.

She gave me a long hug goodbye. I didn’t want to let go, but I did. And we haven’t really spoken since.

A sharp,precise knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Before I can respond, Fiona, my personal assistant, steps in. She’s the epitome of control and efficiency, never a hair out of place. Her black suit, tight ponytail, and sleek glasses form her signature work uniform. She’s about thirty, with a detached demeanor that somehow manages to be both intimidating and reassuring.

I watch as she walks in. Every step is calculated, like she’s not just avoiding messes but making sure I don’t create any either.

She places a tablet on my desk, the screen already displaying last year’s report, and looks at me for a moment.

“The report you requested, Miss Galli,” she says, her voice as crisp as the pleats in her skirt. Her eyes hover over me. “Want coffee? You look... off.”

Off. Right.That’s one word for it.

“Not right now, I already had one, thank you. And it’s Victoria, please.”

A flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She nods, barely perceptible.

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