A City Men’s Correctional Facility Inside one of the cells in the Red Block, an inmate in a perfectly pressed prison uniform sat facing the wall clock across the hall. His eyes remained fixed on its hands. The moment the short hand struck four and the long hand pointed to twelve, a baton slammed violently against his cell door, startling the inmates who hadn’t been paying attention. But the man merely smiled and rose to his feet. An officer with a stoic expression appeared moments later and pulled the cell door open. “Inmate 9972, you’re free to go.” For the first time in seven years, Roman Moretti was a free man. Still smiling, he stepped out of the cell and headed straight to the front desk, where he collected the clothes he’d arrived in and his belongings, including an old button phone and a worn-out wallet. With everything in hand, he walked out through the prison gates. Roman slipped both hands into his pockets and tilted his face toward the sky, allowing the sunlight

The little girl’s frail body trembled. She slowly sat up, drawing her knees toward her chest, her big white eyes slowly filling with tears as she looked up at Maren, “I’m sorry, Mommy.” Maren sucked in a sharp breath, clenching and unclenching her fist as though struggling to restrain herself. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m not your mother.” The girl shuddered. Yet she continued looking at Maren, her small eyes filled with a desperate hope that the woman might change her mind. Then her gaze shifted. Her eyes met Roman’s. The man stood completely still when he saw the resemblance. The little girl had his eyes. The same shade of grey orbs. The same unmistakable shape of his face. She was a smaller, more delicate version of him. This was his daughter. He, Roman Moretti, really had a daughter. All these years, he’d dreamed of holding her again. He’d imagined her running into his arms, calling him Daddy, and telling him everything he’d missed while he was away. He ha

His words had barely left his mouth when Roman reached across the table and flicked him on the forehead. “Watch what you say.” Baby looked up at the sudden movement. Jonas gritted his teeth, forced a smile at her, and turned back to Roman. “I apologize,” he muttered. He waited until Baby returned to her food before looking at the tablet in Roman’s hands. Thirty minutes ago, Roman had asked him to gather every piece of information he could find about the Elwood family and meet him at the nearest café. Jonas still didn’t understand why. Roman had lived with those people for seven years. Surely, he already knew enough about them. What could a file tell him that he hadn’t learned while living under the same roof? But Jonas kept his questions to himself. “How much is the Hale family worth now?” Roman suddenly asked. “A shit ton of-” Jonas stopped when Roman raised his eyes. He quickly corrected himself. “A considerable amount. They’ve gone from being an unknown family to the t

The gang leader nearly jumped out of his seat, stunned to see his second-in-command reduced to such a state.The younger man lay in a pool of his own blood, gurgling as he struggled to breathe.“I’ll give one million dollars to whoever brings me the head of this delusional bastard!”Earlier, they had been promised $20,000 for the fight. Now that the reward had suddenly increased to a million dollars, the men were eager to cash in.They followed Roman’s example, breaking their sticks and batons against the wall before charging at him.Each man wanted to be the one to take him down.Watching them approach, Roman realized they weren’t even worth using both hands on. He pressed a hand to the corner of his eye and sighed.When the first man reached him, Roman swept him off his feet, snatched the stick from his hand, and stabbed him in the arm.He did the same to every man who came at him, changing the spot he targeted each time. Some were stabbed in the arms, others in the legs, until all

Aaron’s jaw ticked. So he knew. Fifteen years ago, Aaron had been certain he would die before turning eighteen and receiving the small inheritance his grandfather had left him. It was barely enough to live comfortably for a year, while his half-siblings and cousins inherited company shares and buildings across the country. Even that little inheritance had been too much for his father to stomach. Angelo Hale had beaten and strangled him at every opportunity, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of his son receiving anything he hadn’t been given. Aaron had almost given up hope of seeing his twenty-second birthday when an arrogant young man strolled into their vineyard one day and casually remarked on how good the fruit tasted. His father, a man who had always carried himself as though the world belonged to him, had been scared out of his wits by someone half his age. Aaron later learned why. His father had a gambling addiction and had lost his fifteen percent stake in Hale G