The morning sun crept slowly through the curtains, bathing the mansion in a soft golden glow. For the first time in months, peace truly lived within the walls of Lorenzo's home. Elena sat by the balcony, her hair down, her hands resting gently on her small belly. One month had passed since the doctor's visit, and every day Lorenzo treated her like glass — fragile, precious, irreplaceable.
He refused to let her lift even a cup.
"Lorenzo, I'm pregnant, not dying," she laughed, watching him insist on carrying her breakfast tray.
"I don't care," he said, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "You're my world now. You, and this little one you're carrying."
Elena smiled softly. For once, she felt safe. The ghosts of her past — her father, her stepmother, the betrayals — all seemed far away. Every night, Lorenzo would hold her close, whispering plans about the future: their child, their home, a life without war.
She wanted to believe him. She really did.
But sometimes, when the nights were too quiet, Elena would dream of her father's voice — that deep, cold tone that once made her tremble.
"You think you can escape me, Elena? Power runs in your blood. You were born for it, not for love."
She would wake up sweating, her heart racing. Lorenzo always noticed. He'd pull her closer, telling her she was safe, that he'd burn down the world before anyone touched her again.
Those words comforted her — until that one peaceful evening when everything changed.
⸻
It started like any other day. The house was filled with laughter and warmth. Elena and Lorenzo sat at the dining table, teasing each other about baby names.
"I still think Alessandro sounds strong," Lorenzo said.
"And I told you," Elena giggled, "if it's a girl, we're naming her after my mother."
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, after what she did?"
She sighed. "No. Maybe not. Maybe… a new name. A fresh start."
They were still laughing when Luca entered, his face pale.
"Boss…" his voice trembled. "You might want to see this."
Lorenzo frowned. "What is it?"
Luca handed him a tablet, and on the screen was the breaking news:
'The feared Mexican mafia lord, Miguel Santiago, has returned to Europe after years of silence.'
Lorenzo froze.
Elena's fork fell from her hand.
She knew that name.
Miguel Santiago.
The same man her mother had whispered about. The man she never thought she'd have to face.
Her breathing quickened.
"Lorenzo…" she whispered, gripping the table edge. "That's… that's my father's real name."
The air around them grew heavy, the silence too loud.
Lorenzo's eyes darkened instantly. "He's here."
Elena nodded weakly, tears forming in her eyes. "He's come for me."
Lorenzo stood, fury flashing through his eyes like fire. "Over my dead body."
⸻
That night, Lorenzo tripled the guards. No one slept. He had the entire compound surrounded. Yet even with all the men, the guns, the protection — Elena couldn't stop shaking.
She sat by the window, her hands trembling as she held the little blue chain Lorenzo once bought for their lost child.
Her mind kept racing.
What does he want now?
Why can't he leave me alone?
Lorenzo entered quietly, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"Don't let fear control you," he whispered. "You're stronger than this."
"I'm tired of being strong," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Every time I think it's over, something new comes."
He turned her around, cupping her face gently. "You're not alone this time. You have me. You have us."
Her heart melted for a moment. She wanted to believe him again — but deep down, she knew her father wasn't a man who gave warnings. He was a man who took.
⸻
By morning, everything seemed quiet again. Too quiet.
Elena stood in the kitchen, slicing fruit, when she noticed the silence outside. No laughter. No guards' voices. Nothing. She turned toward the window — and her breath caught.
Three black SUVs were parked outside the mansion. Men in suits, armed and ready, surrounded the gates. At the center of it all was him — Miguel Santiago, her father, stepping out slowly with a grin on his face.
Lorenzo was already walking toward the door when Luca ran inside.
"Boss, it's him," Luca said, panting.
"I know," Lorenzo answered coldly. "Keep her inside."
But Elena refused to stay.
She walked out to the balcony, watching the man who once gave her life — and took everything else away. He looked older, but the evil in his eyes hadn't faded.
"Elena, stay inside!" Lorenzo shouted.
She didn't listen. She walked forward, trembling but determined.
Miguel looked up at her.
"Mi hija," he said with a mocking smile. "You've grown into a beautiful weapon."
Lorenzo clenched his fists. "You're not taking her anywhere."
Miguel laughed. "Oh, I'm not here to take her, Lorenzo. I'm here to destroy everything she loves. Starting with you."
The words hit like a bullet. Elena's heart stopped for a second.
Lorenzo's men drew their guns. Miguel's men did the same.
A storm was about to begin.
Elena ran to Lorenzo, gripping his arm tightly. "Don't do this, not now, not here."
He looked down at her, his expression cold, controlled — but his eyes burned with fury.
"He came for war," Lorenzo said quietly. "So war he'll get."
⸻
That night, the sky above the city turned dark and heavy. Elena couldn't sleep. Every shadow looked like her father's face. Every sound felt like danger waiting to strike.
She went to the window again, whispering softly to her unborn baby, "Mommy's here, okay? Mommy won't let anyone hurt you."
But deep down, she knew what was coming next — a war that would either unite her and Lorenzo forever… or destroy everything they'd built.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure which it would be.