ELENA'S POV
I sit on the kitchen stool, draped in Rio's oversized tee, legs tucked under me. My skin still tingles from our little morning session. My skin still bears a few red marks, and I left a few scratches on him too. I shift when I remember the chaos that happened in that room.
I stare at nothing because that sweetness was the calm before the storm.And now we're back to normal . And our version of normal now is
keys, threats, and the slow, certain gearing up of war.
Rio's gone to meet investors , contracts to sign, alliances to soothe. Things had to somewhat go back to normal; he had to return to his responsibilities as the CEO of the company and as the don of his mafia.
The man never rests.
Mariana, Margo, and I agreed that work resumes Monday. The weekend is for us to try to breathe.
"Hey." Marco breezes in, Mariana and Margo trailing behind. I force a smile up at them.
"Morning, guys," I call, loud enough to sound normal. They settle at the island, giving me worried looks.
"How you feeling?" Mariana asks, squeezing my hand a little. I smile genuinely because I feel a bit better.
"I'm fine, guys…" I try to sound convincing. They all nod, and we resume small talk about, well, everything.
Margo busies herself with the coffee like a barista at church.
"There's something I want to show you, El. I'm not exactly sure if it's still there… let me check. I just suddenly remembered it," Mariana says after a moment, standing and walking to the living room, looking through cabinets.
Curiosity claws up inside me. We all watch her as she searches for whatever it is she's looking for.
Perfect timing , the front door swings open and Rio appears.
Two hours gone, he'd promised he'd be back early. He looks devilishly handsome as always in that dress shirt that hugs his frame,his black slacks , his silver necklace glistening in the dim kitchen light. His tattoos peek through his cuffs and neck.His sharp facial features catching the light as he walks into the kitchen, throwing his car keys on the island.
His voice is low and warm as he crosses the threshold. "Hey, baby." He slides beside me, kissing the side of my head, hands at my waist, pulling me closer as he loosens his tie.
"Hey ,"I whisper kissing his cheek with the same warmth.
"What are you guys talking about?" he asks.
"Maria wanted to show me something," I say, eyes on Mariana, who's riffling through a cabinet, dust motes dancing. Margo places coffee mugs in front of us, and we all thank her, obviously. She also slides onto her stool next to Marco, who is busy peeling an apple.
She returns with a heavy, dusty photo book and slams it on the island like it's treasure.
We lean in as she flips the pages. Old photos spill across the pages , family faces, formal smiles, a younger Rio, a younger Mariana.
My heart stutters at the smell of old paper and a faint trace of smoke on the pages, like something burned long ago.
The scent reminds me of my mom's house going up in flames after I ran that night.
"I think I once saw a picture of someone having that key you're wearing, El…" Mariana murmurs, tracing a finger through photos, trying to find it.
My stomach drops. I glance at Rio, then back at the book. I shift, and Rio pulls me onto his lap, tightening his hold on me as if sensing my stiffness.
"Yeah… I thought I saw it too," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Blurry memory, though."
"You didn't tell me," I say , not accusing, only curious, plus he already told me he knew about the key ,the heat of something building under my ribs makes my insides burn slightly.
"I wasn't sure, princess. It was fuzzy," he answers. His voice is careful.
"Found it!" Mariana's breath punctures the room. We all glance at the page she's pointing to.
I snatch the photo, and my chest seizes. There, in grainy black and white, my father stands in the middle , tall, inked, jet-black hair and the same sharp blue eyes that burn in my reflection.A glass of alcohol in his hand .
The key hangs from his neck like a dare. To his right Rocco, Rio's father.
And on his left , Enzo.
In the background, two women: my mother and another likeness I recognize from the portrait room at the manor.
Rio's mom , Seraphina.
"What?"I whisper in disbelief.
My mouth goes dry. I squint until the faces sharpen. It's like the air has been sucked from the kitchen. How is this possible? My stomach turns, and my fingers tremble on the picture, double-checking, making sure I'm not imagining this.
"They knew each other?" I whisper again, half to myself and half to the others. My voice cracks a little.
"Who?" Marco and Margo ask in unison , confused.
I look up, heart thunderous. "That…" I point at the photo, fingers trembling. "That's my dad. He's in the middle. That's Enzo. And back there , my mom, and… Rio's mother." My voice sounds small, shocked.
"Holy crap.."Marco says wide eyed mirroring Margo's expression of surprise.
I look back at Rio, handing him the picture.
"W… what the…?" he whispers.
Rio's face drains. For the first time all day, he's as stunned as I am.
The island of normal cracks beneath us. Rio hands the picture to his sister, and it goes around. Marco and Margo also take a look.
The old picture is mirror-proof that our histories are knotted together more tightly than either of us knew. And the idea makes my face pale. Is this fate or mere coincidence that Rio and I crossed paths ?
Something cold and inevitable unfurls in my gut. The war is older than I thought. And now I can see where the first lines were drawn.
For a moment, the kitchen drowns in silence. Even the clock on the wall feels too loud, ticking away like it knows something we don't.
My stare won't leave the picture. The edges blur, but the faces stay clear, mocking me with secrets that were never mine to hold.
The lullaby Rio hummed yesterday , the same one my mother sang to me. It wasn't a coincidence; they actually did know each other.
What was the history behind our families being tied together?
Mariana leans back, her hands finding Margo's waist like she needs grounding. "This is insane… h-how is that even possible?" Her voice cracks on the last word.
My throat feels tight. I don't remember my mom ever mentioning the Marianos when I was growing up.
Not once. They weren't in our photo albums either ,and my parents never talked about their job to me either , it's like their relationship with the Mariano's had been scrubbed from our history, erased deliberately.
I look back at Rio. His expression mirrors mine shocked, raw, unsettled.
"Did your dad ever mention knowing my family?" I ask, the question shaky but sharp, like glass in my throat.
Rio doesn't answer right away. His jaw flexes, eyes locked on the photograph as though staring hard enough will change what's already printed in ink and memory. His fingers tighten around my waist, like he needs the contact to anchor himself. He thinks for a while .
The silence stretches, heavier than any answer.
"Well… he did mention a family , powerful, dangerous, untouchable.
They were the head of the Familigia back then. That's what they called all the mafia organizations that came together under the name … The Familigia," Rio says, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
"The Greys were the leaders at that time, but that was all dad said , when I tried to push it , he shut me out and told me to never ask about them agian. Nothing more," Rio adds, taking the photo from my hands like he's bracing for whatever's written on the paper to sting him.
My hand moves to the eagle tattoo on the back of my neck out of instinct.
He studies the faces as if he can pull memory from the grain. "Nothing else… this goes deeper than just keys princess," he murmurs, voice low and hoarse.
Margo throws her hands up in a confused flutter. "So your families knew each other, but you didn't know? And keys? I'm kinda lost here."
She looks genuinely puzzled , the sort of innocent that makes me want to protect her from everything ugly.
Mariana slips a red strand of hair behind Margo's ear and offers a tiny, conspiratorial laugh.
"I'll fill you in, baby," she says softly, eyes flicking between us.
"But it stays between us , just me, you, Marco, El, and Rio, okay?" Margo nods, trusting and blissfully unaware of how deep all this runs.
Marco crunches his apple like this is Tuesday and not the sudden archaeology of our lives.
"Well," he says, leaning against the counter, voice careless but sharp, "you know what this means. Time to dig for the truth and it's clear the past of y'all has some nasty skeletons." He grins a little, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
Mariana sips her coffee, face settling into something serious. "And I have a feeling it will not be pretty," she warns.
Rio tightens his hold on me until my ribs remember the pressure. "Nothing ever is when it comes to people like us," he adds, and the words hang there ,an ugly, beautiful promise.
The kitchen feels smaller, the air thicker.
All we have for now is a mystery key and an old black-and-white photo.
"So where do we start?" Margo asks, bright and a little too thrilled, and my heart flips.
"I love solving mysteries, and your families seem to have a lot of that," she says, leaning closer to Mariana.
She's so cute. We smile at her , she's obviously trying to lighten up the mood.
She doesn't know everything, and maybe we shouldn't drag her into this. But she chose to sit with us. I respect that.
I look at everyone and let the decision settle in my ribs.
"From today, at least… we figure out how to get the information on our histories ,both our families , so we know exactly what we're dealing with that way we will have more information about this key and why everyone wants it so bad " My voice is steady, the thread of determination tight as wire.My fingers brush the pendant key on my collar bone.
If Rio's right, this is bigger than keys.
"I'll go back to my dad's house, see what I can find in his study ..maybe the archives," Mariana says, snatching her purse and taking Margo's hand, already moving.
Her face is set all business and bones.
"I'll look into Enzo,that smug bastard gotta is shady as hell " Marco says, already tapping his phone as he wanders toward his lair, apple balanced on his mouth , the basement he turned into a command center.
Computers, weapons, questionable stuff… it's his playground and our advantage.
I turn to Rio. "You'll come with me tomorrow to Aunt Lilly's?" I ask, leaning back so my shoulders press to his chest.
It feels like the right step , go to the one relative who might've kept things and not burned every trace.
"I think it's time I paid her a visit after all this time," I add, and his hand tightens at my waist like a promise anchoring.
"I promised to be with you every step of the way, princess… I intend to keep it that way," Rio whispers in my ear.
His words wash over me as I lean more into his arms.
We breathe in a small collective intake before we start digging. Outside, the city keeps its indifferent hum. Inside, we've picked a direction. The war's map is on the table now, and we're choosing our first move.