One Week Later – The Vault, New YorkThe war room buzzed with tension.Blueprints covered the walls. Live satellite feeds glowed on monitors. And at the center, Jason, stood still, arms crossed, watching a 3D model of Giovanni Russos final fortress, La Rocca Bianca, an off-grid mountain compound fortified like a military base.Behind him, Valentina leaned over the map. This is where it ends.Jason nodded. Every last lie, bullet, and betrayal ends there.Mila paced nearby. Weve hacked all known cameras and comms around the compound. Hes paranoid now, switching guards hourly. Someone tipped him off.Jason looked up. Someone… inside?The room went cold.Dante was dead. Elena was recovering. The core team was tight.But still—Jasons jaw clenched. Someones leaking us. We had three secured routes, and each got blocked before we even moved.Vin, sitting on a crate, looked offended. You think its me?Jason stared at him. I think its not off the table.Valentina stepped in. He risked his life

48 Hours After Giovannis DeathPrivate Estate – Sicily CoastlineSunlight spilled through bulletproof glass windows. The smell of saltwater clung to the air. Jason stood alone on a marble balcony overlooking the sea.The fortress was gone. Giovanni was dead. But the war hadnt ended.Because now… the world was watching.And the throne was empty.Behind him, Mila entered, laptop in hand.You made global news,she said. Interpol raided five warehouses. The Moretti and Russo accounts are frozen. And the Vatican? They called it a spiritual purge.Jason didnt react.Your names on every screen,Mila continued. Some call you a vigilante. Others, the next king.Jason finally spoke. Im not a king.You sure? Mila asked. Because kings dont get to walk away.Inside the Estate – Valentinas RoomValentina sat at the vanity, brushing her hair, staring at her reflection. The woman in the mirror was no longer Giovannis daughter.She was a warrior. A survivor.Jason entered quietly.Are you okay? he asked

Location: Palermo City Archives – MidnightJason stepped through the echoing marble halls, led by a silent archivist into the restricted vaults. This wasn’t about power now. This was about truth.He needed to know why his father started ALTHEA. Why trained killers were waking from the shadows with his name carved into their mission.The vault door groaned open.Dust choked the air.Inside—files dating back five decades. Tapes. Black-and-white photos. Burned letters.Mila’s voice crackled in his earpiece:“You sure it’s safe down there?”Jason replied, “If I go missing, give the throne to Valentina.”She laughed dryly. “Already did.”***Hidden File – Codename: EVEJason brushed dust from a sealed folder. Stamped: FOR INTERNAL FAMILY USE ONLY.He flipped it open.A woman stared back at him from an old photograph.Red lips. Black hair. Eyes like razors.Label: Althea Unit 01 – Subject: Eva Serrano.Mission: Protect Moretti Lineage.Secondary Protocol: Terminate threats to heir.Jason’s

Location: Beneath the Vatican – Secret CatacombsTime: 2:11 AMThe stone corridors echoed with whispers. Torchlight flickered against ancient walls. This place had seen centuries of secrets—but tonight would be its darkest.Valentina waited in the center of the chamber.She wore no armor. No mask.Only truth.Footsteps echoed behind her.The assassin arrived.Eva.Gun drawn. Face half in shadow.Valentina didn’t move.“I was hoping it would be you,” she said softly.Eva stepped forward, pistol aimed directly at her sister’s heart.“You shouldn’t be here alone,” Eva said.Valentina nodded. “I’m not.”She tapped her comms. Jason was listening. Watching. But not intervening.“I wanted you to hear it from me,” Valentina continued. “Before you make a choice you can’t take back.”Eva’s voice trembled. “I don’t need your stories. I have orders.”Valentina stepped closer. “And what if those orders were lies?”Eva hesitated.“I read Giovanni’s letters,” Valentina said. “He never loved anyone.

Location: Positano Coastline – Six Months After the FallJason had found a strange kind of quiet.He spent mornings tuning old engines and evenings with Valentina, watching the sea turn gold under the sun.Eva had vanished from the public eye. Rumors said she was in Thailand. Or Argentina. Or the Vatican again—this time as a ghost protector.And for a while, the world stopped bleeding.But peace, in Jason’s world, was just the part in a storm when the wind holds its breath.***Scene: Jason’s GarageJason adjusted the carburetor on a black Ducati when a sleek black sedan pulled up outside. No plates. Tinted glass.He stood. Wiped his hands on a rag. Watched.A man in a dark green suit stepped out. Mid-fifties. Salt and pepper beard. Black gloves.“Jason Moretti?” he asked.Jason tensed. “Depends who’s asking.”The man smiled, calm like a snake before a strike.“My name is Mikhail Kasarov. I represent a… displaced interest.”Jason raised a brow. “Russian?”“Not exactly,” Mikhail said.