My Blood for His Empire

To scrape together that sum of money as quickly as possible, I couldn't bear to spend an extra cent on myself.

When I arrived in New York City, I had only two hundred dollars in cash on me.

I found a fleabag motel in Hell's Kitchen, where the air hung heavy with the oppressive scent of dampness, mold, and despair.

I don't know how much time had passed when a familiar embrace enveloped me, carrying the faint scent of bourbon and a woman's perfume.

"Ally, my little shadow, what are you doing in a place like this?" The alcohol had reddened the corners of Luciano's eyes, his voice husky.

He looked at me, his gaze filled with remorse:

"What about the money I left for you? Why are you sleeping in a place like this? Are you doing this to spite me, trying to make my heart ache, is that it?"

"What I did today... it was just to repay Izzy. She's the one who 'bailed me out' of my predicament. Her marriage is on the rocks, and she wants a divorce, but she's terrified he'll make things difficult. So, she asked me to put on this charade, hoping he'd get the message and back off."

Hearing him call me 'little shadow' sent me into a bit of a daze.

I'd always been cold and distant, ever since I was a child. Everyone said I was an untamable wild wolf cub, urging Luciano to cast me aside.

But he never listened, just pulled me onto his lap and would say with a low chuckle:

"Don't listen to those old geezers. They're full of crap.""Wild wolf? My Ally is the one and only 'Shadow,' my shadow, belonging solely to me, Luciano Moretti."

I once believed that was love. But today, he called Isabella 'baby'—a term of endearment he had never bestowed upon me.

How I longed to ask him: Was it truly Isabella who wanted the divorce, or was it you who manipulated her into it?

“Luciano, were you truly betrayed?”

He hesitated for a moment:

“Of course. You have no idea how desperately I've missed you these past three months. Every single day, I wanted to fight my way out, to get back to your side.”

His gaze drifted to my black leather gloves, and a startled laugh escaped him:

“Since when did you take to sleeping in gloves? How uncomfortable that must be. Here, let me take them off for you.”

He leaned in slowly, his face drawing near my neck, his warm breath a tantalizing caress against my skin:

“Ally, it’s been three months. God, how I've missed you. I know you’ve missed me too, haven’t you?”

Just as his fingertips were about to graze the leather, I recoiled as if seared by fire, shoving him away. I swiftly clutched my robe tighter around me, every fiber of my being screaming rejection.

Luciano’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief. He rose, his face growing dark:

“Alessia, there’s a limit to this sulking. I’ve already explained everything. What more could you possibly want?”

"If Izzy hadn't saved me, I would have been long dead at the hands of traitors."

"These past three months, what exactly have you done for me? You've been living comfortably on the assets I gave you, and I haven't even blamed you for that. What right do you have to stand here, green with envy and throwing a fit?"

I shook my head frantically:

"I haven't, I just... I've always been..."

Luciano's phone suddenly rang, and Isabella's plaintive voice drifted through the line:

"Luc, I had a nightmare, and I'm all alone at home. Please, can you come and stay with me?"

"Okay, I'll be right there."

Luciano hung up the phone and tossed a cold remark my way:

"That's enough. Stop making excuses for yourself. It seems I've indulged you far too much. Izzy is waiting for me. You need to do some serious soul-searching."

With that, he turned on his heel and left without a shred of hesitation.

Luciano didn't know that just before he arrived, I had received an anonymous, encrypted email.

Inside were photos of him and Isabella from the past three months.

While I was risking my life, desperately trying to gather funds for him, he was whisking Isabella off to Monte Carlo, lavishing millions of dollars on her at the gambling tables just to see her smile.

They kissed in a villa on Lake Como, watched the sunset side-by-side under the Tuscan sun.

In an ancient Florentine silversmith's shop, he slipped matching promise rings onto her finger.

I removed my gloves, silently gazing at the right side of my head where an ear was missing, and at the hideous scar on my abdomen.

Tears silently slid down.

How could I ever tell him that I hadn't been living a life of ease, that all that money had been exchanged for blood-soaked cash?

How could I show him my broken body, these scars I once believed were testaments to our love, now turned into brands of shame seared into my flesh,

mocking my foolishness.

If that was the case, then there was no need to say anything more.

My contract with Isabella was for seven days.

When these seven days were over, and I received the five million dollars, I would finally have the fifty million dollars I needed.

Luciano, from this day forward, I will owe you nothing.