3RD POV

It's been 2 days since Alissa was taken by her father. They were still in America, and his father had to do some things here before they left for Italy. Right now, they were in the living room, and the scent of rich Italian food filled the air. The silverware clinked softly as they ate.

The silence was broken by Alexandro's deep voice as he set his fork down.

"Mi è mancato averti di nuovo al mio fianco, lo sai," he said.

T: I missed having you by my side again, you know.

"Anch'io papà, anche tu mi sei mancato tanto." Alissa gave him a small smile.

T: Me too, dad. I missed you too

" Comunque, torneremo a casa dopodomani," he said. " Domani pomeriggio mi accompagnerai alla riunione," he continued.

T: Anyway, we'll be back home the day after tomorrow. T: Tomorrow afternoon you will accompany me to the

Alissa's eyes looked at her father's face as she lowered her fork, her sharp gaze calculating. "A meeting? With whom?" she asked, her voice smooth and dangerous, as if she were speaking to someone who owed her a debt.

"One of my companies, " Alexandro replied, his gaze unwavering. " You have been been helping me deal with the companies and even raised the profits so it's time for you to physically visit them and attend the meetings. You're my heir, soon they will all belong to you." He said

"Ok, nessun problema" she said.

T: Ok, no problem

"Good" he said then picked up his first and continued to eat.

*******

In the dark heart of New York, within a sprawling maze of lavish underground clubs and shadowy businesses, Alexandro De Leon walked through the corridors of one of his most notorious illegal empires. His reputation as a ruthless mafia king had been cemented by years of bloodshed, manipulation, and cold strategy. A man who had seen the world burn and rebuilt it in his image. But today, there was something different, something chillingly personal about his every move.

For the first time in five years, Alexandro was no longer alone. Walking beside him was a figure who resembled him so closely that one could hardly tell where the man ended and the girl began. She was his mirror image—sharp jawline, icy gray eyes, and the same air of unapproachable authority. The daughter everyone believed was dead—Alissa.

Before the world ever knew of her existence, before Alexandro had spun the tale of her tragic death at the age of twelve, Alissa had already established herself as a force to be reckoned with. Even as a child, she was a harbinger of terror. The men who crossed Alexandro’s path trembled at the thought of dealing with him, but those who had encountered his daughter whispered in fear about the merciless nature of the little girl who walked beside him. Her small frame hid a deadly heart, and there was no softness in her eyes. They were eyes that saw the world as a game of power—and she played it as skillfully as her father.

From a young age, Alissa had been trained in the ways of the underworld. Alexandro ensured she was never a typical child, for in their world, childhood innocence was a luxury one couldn’t afford. Her training was relentless—hand-to-hand combat, the art of intimidation, and, most importantly, how to take a life without hesitation. She was taught to be cold, calculating, and efficient. While other children played games, Alissa was learning how to break a man’s will and make him beg for mercy before the final blow was struck. By the time she was six, she could handle a weapon better than most adults, and by twelve, she had already killed many people.

Her first kill had been a man who thought she was nothing more than a helpless child. He had been one of Alexandro’s enemies—a man who had crossed him one too many times. Alexandro had sent Alissa in his place, a test of sorts. He had known that the man would underestimate her, and it was that very underestimation that would seal his fate. The man, drunk on his own arrogance, had been caught off guard when Alissa, no taller than the edge of the kitchen counter, approached him with a smile that could freeze blood in your veins.

The moment the man turned to face her, he laughed, thinking she was nothing more than a puppet, a child who couldn’t possibly understand the brutality of his world. He was wrong. Alissa pulled a sharp kitchen knife from behind her back, her tiny fingers gripping it with deadly precision. In a matter of seconds, the man’s throat had been slashed, his life slipping away in a pool of crimson. She stood over him, unmoved by the gore, wiping the blade clean with a cold, detached expression. When Alexandro arrived, he found her standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in blood but with not a single sign of fear or regret. She had done exactly what her father had trained her to do, and she did it without a second thought.

The world believed she had died at twelve, but the truth was far darker. Alissa had faked her death with the help of Alexandro. She was kept hidden in plain sight, far from the chaos of the empire, but the bloodlust that ran through her veins never wavered. She was alive, getting to know her brothers and growing more dangerous with every passing year. Alexandro had always known she would return when the time was right.

When Alissa was twelve, the world had believed her to be lost in a terrible accident. That was the story Alexandro spun, the story he had to tell to protect her from his enemies. But in reality, Alissa had been hidden away, getting to know her brothers, growing stronger, colder, and more dangerous, until now, at seventeen, she had returned to her father's side. Her return wasn’t just a personal reunion; it was a message to the world that the De Leon empire was far from over—and the king's bloodline would continue, more dangerous than ever. Alexandro has yet to announce to the whole world that his heir has returned and he planned on making a grand ball.

Alexandro ’s employees, many of whom had known him for years, were stunned at the sight of the young woman walking beside him. They had heard rumors whispers in the dark corners of the city, but seeing Alissa in the flesh was something else entirely. They all knew Alexandro a king of shadows, but now, his daughter seemed to inherit that very throne. She had returned as a weapon—every bit as sharp, calculating, and merciless as her father.

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