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1. English is not my first language so kindly tell me if there's any mistake or something wrong is written also you all know the great 'autocorrect'. 2. This book will contain mentions of violence, self harm and some triggering scenes which will have warning so it's upto you to read or skip. 3. You can speak whatever you want to or feel about to the characters but not to me, I won't tolerate that. 4. You can message me on instagram if there's a suggestion or tip regarding the story. 5. I won't write mature scenes, not here not in any of my book so don't increase your expectation about it. 6. As I previously said this book, characters, name, scenes, plot everything's fictional no resemblance to real life. 7. This book, the plot, characters, aesthetics and everything has been created by me solely so no copying is allowed. 8. You may not like the plots or few of the characters in the book as I am not that much of a good writer you can say...hehe. But just leave it if this happens I won't tolerate hate towards me. 9. The next chapters will be posted only after the target of current ones is complete. Hoping for love from you all ❤️ Enjoy the story....

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☆ 9 August 2024☆

📍Rome, Italy



The roar of the engine, a symphony of power and defiance, drowned out the whispers of doubt that dared to creep in. The wind, a relentless force, whipped through my hair, carrying with it the scent of burnt rubber and the lingering ghost of Sandra's laughter. The ground, a blur of vibrant hues, rushed by in a dizzying display of speed, a desperate attempt to escape the weight of the past. It wasn't just the thrill of speed that consumed me during these races, though that certainly played its part. It was an escape, a desperate, exhilarating flight from the chaos that seemed to constantly swirl around me, a chaos that had irrevocably altered the course of my life.

Eleven years ago, amidst the whirlwind of innocent dreams and whispered promises, I had stood beneath a sky ablaze with a million stars, my gaze fixed on my sister, Sandra. A radiant smile played on her lips, her eyes sparkling with an infectious enthusiasm that could ignite a thousand suns. "I will win," I had declared, my voice brimming with the fervor of a little child chasing his ambitions. "I will win every race in future, and you will be there. At the finish line, waiting with open arms."

Sandra, ever the dreamer, had responded with a laugh that chimed like the sweetest music. "I will be there," she had vowed, her voice filled with an innocent joy that mirrored the twinkle in her eyes. "Waiting to hug the winner."

And then there was Ria, our angel sister, ever the supporter of her twinnie, her beloved pixie. "I'll have the cookies ready," she had chimed in, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Chocolate chip, just the way pixie loves them."

I had kept my promise. Every race, I pushed harder, striving for that elusive victory, fueled by the memory of Sandra's unwavering belief in me. And Ria, too had always baked those damn delicious cookies, a constant reminder of the promise we had made, a testament to the enduring love that bound us.

But Sandra… she wasn't there.

The years that followed were a blur of victories and hollow triumphs. Each time I crossed the finish line, my eyes instinctively searched for her face in the crowd, a desperate yearning for that familiar smile, that warm embrace. A flicker of hope, a fleeting illusion, would ignite within me, only to be extinguished by the harsh reality of her absence.

The roar of the engines still echoed, but the silence that followed the cheers now felt deafening, a constant reminder of the void left by her departure. The wind still whipped through my hair, but it carried only the ghosts of promises whispered long ago, the echoes of laughter that had once filled our lives. The ground still blurred beneath the tires, but the finish line seemed further away than ever, a distant mirage in a world forever altered by her absence.

The cookies, once a symbol of joy and shared dreams, now tasted like ashes, each bite a bittersweet reminder of a promise unfulfilled, a love lost.

And so, I race. Not for the thrill of victory anymore, though the adrenaline still surged through my veins. Not for the accolades or the fame. I race for the fleeting illusion of escape, a desperate attempt to outrun the memories that haunted me. For a moment, amidst the chaos of the track, the memories of Sandra would fade, replaced by the primal focus on the road ahead, the need to push harder, to go faster.

But even as I pushed harder, even as I strived for that elusive perfection, a part of me knew that the true victory, the one that truly mattered, had slipped away long ago. The victory of sharing my triumphs with my sister, of basking in her pride, of celebrating with her at the finish line. That victory, along with Sandra, was forever lost.

The roar of engines, a symphony of raw power, filled the air as I, Zenith, once again found myself standing at the precipice of another race. With these thoughts I'd again reached our underworld racing arena, the asphalt gleaming under the harsh glare of the stadium lights. This wasn't just a race; it was a ritual, a desperate attempt to outrun the ghosts of my past. Life, the cruelest of adversaries, had dealt me a devastating blow, leaving me hollow and adrift. Yet, here I stood, the undefeated racer, a title that mocked my shattered spirit.

My Bugatti Chiron Super Sport, a sleek, silver predator, hummed beneath me, a testament to my former glory. Registration was a formality; the underworld knew me, Zenith, the legend, the man who pushed the boundaries of speed, shattering his own records with each passing race. "Another race," I muttered to myself, the roar of the engines echoing through the cavernous arena. "Another day."

One by one, my rivals lined up beside me. There he was, my nemesis, his face contorted into that infuriating smirk, a sideways yawn from a walrus, if a walrus could somehow embody arrogance and self-delusion. Despite countless defeats, he persisted, his ego seemingly impervious to the sting of repeated humiliation.

The announcer's voice cut through the pre-race tension, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we welcome a new contender, a racer shrouded in anonymity. This enigmatic driver goes by the name 'Ghost', their sole ambition to leave a trail of bitter defeat in their wake."

A low growl echoed from my right, a graphite grey Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut sliding into position. My gaze, however, remained fixed on the photograph clutched tightly in my hand. It was a picture of Sandra, my little sister, my stella.

"Stella," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion, "Today's yet another race and you again aren't there to hug me as I win, I hate you," I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I hate you for breaking your promise. I hate you for leaving me with this ache, this gnawing emptiness that no victory, no acclaim, could ever truly fill. I hate you for robbing me of the joy of sharing my triumphs with you, for stealing the warmth of your presence from my life." But even as the anger surged through me, a desperate plea welled up inside. "Please come back," I begged, the words lost in the roar of the engines. "Please come back. I need you." This was my ritual, a silent promise whispered to the wind, a desperate plea for solace in the face of overwhelming grief, a thing I did before every race. As the engines screamed to life, I kissed her photo keeping it in my pocket, channeling my pain, my rage, my yearning for redemption, into the sleek, silver machine beneath me. The race was about to begin, and in that moment, I was no longer just Zenith, the undefeated racer. I was a brother, a soul desperately seeking redemption on the asphalt canvas of the underworld.

The green flag dropped.

A cacophony of tire squeals erupted as the hypercars launched forward, a blur of chrome and carbon fiber tearing down the track. I as Zenith, a veteran of a thousand races, held my ground, my Chiron a symphony of controlled aggression. I felt the G-forces pinning me to the seat as the car surged forward, a mechanical beast unleashed.

The Ghost, however, was a different breed. The Jesko Absolut, with its 1,600 horsepower engine, was a force of nature. It surged past me shocking me, a fleeting shadow of grey, its top speed seemingly limitless. As I, fueled by a mixture of adrenaline and frustration, pushed my Chiron to its absolute limits. I clung to Ghost's tail, the gap between us a tantalizing sliver.

The track twisted and turned, a ribbon of asphalt snaking through the desert landscape. I, using my superior cornering skills, attempted to outmaneuver the Jesko, but Ghost, with uncanny precision, countered my every move frustrating me. The race became a duel of titans, a battle of wills and machines.

Lap after lap, the two hypercars pushed each other to the brink. I, fueled by a desperate need to win as always, pushed my Chiron harder, ignoring the warning lights flashing on my dashboard. The strain was immense, the car groaning under the immense pressure.

As we entered the final lap, the Jesko Absolut pulled away, a silent, metallic predator claiming its prey. While I with an aching body and a mind filled with emotions could only watch as the grey car disappeared into the distance.

I crossed the finish line, defeated, shocked and broken. The cheers of the crowd were a distant murmur, drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. I slumped in my seat, my gaze fixed on the horizon, where the Jesko Absolut, a beacon of dominance, was already fading into the distance.

The podium ceremony felt like a distant echo as I sat in a distance drinking angrily for the first time losing and failing yet again in keeping my promise to Sandra. The crowd was silent with few cheers here and there as no one was able to register the undefeatable's defeat. I looked up to see Ghost, the enigmatic driver, raising the trophy above his head, a single, defiant gesture. Then, he lowered the visor of his helmet, revealing a face etched with a chilling calm.

There stood Ria, my innocent and sweet sister harboring a Cold yet soft expression. I frozen in disbelief, stared at my sister, my mind reeling. Ria, the gentle soul, the one who always baked cookies, had transformed into a ruthless competitor, a ghost in the machine. The crowd was filled with gasps and murmur as a girl had won for the first time in ages, the patriarchy could be felt in the jealous voices of other racers as they were raged to lose by a girl.

"This victory," Ria's voice boomed through the stadium, amplified by the microphone, "is for pixie."

She stepped down from the podium and approached me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I thought you could handle a loss after all these years of easy victories," she chuckled, her voice light and teasing. I smiled, shaking my head at her tease, and pulled her into a hug. "Ria, you have no idea how proud I am to lose to you. But honestly, were you out of your mind coming here alone? And you're still underage to drive these races!" I scolded gently.

"Like you weren't a kid when you started racing," she retorted, leaning against me with a weary sigh. "And who said I came here alone? With all those guards guarding me, I wouldn't have gotten far."

"And who had the audacity to..." I began, but my words were cut short as I saw Rio approaching. My eyes narrowed as I watched him walk towards us.

"I couldn't do anything," he pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. "She... she threatened me. I'm telling you, something's wrong with her. It was like little Sandra threatening me." His voice trembled, and my glare softened as I shifted my attention towards Ria.

"What! Don't look at me like that," she exclaimed, her voice playful. "You've been such a gloom lately. You used to race every day, just like you always have, but you always came back with the same blank expression. So, I thought, if winning doesn't stir any emotions in you anymore, maybe defeat would. Besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I think Pixie's words came true again. Remember she once said she wished you'd never lose, and if you did, it would be to family?" Her expression softened, and I couldn't help but smile sadly.

After that, the three of us piled into Rio's car. I couldn't bear to leave them alone. He drove his Rolls-Royce Phantom, a sleek and imposing machine. "You know, I'm still in shock that Ria, of all people, came out on top. And defeated the undefeated, no less!" Rio exclaimed, glancing at Ria who was sprawled exhaustedly across the seat. Her head rested on my lap, her eyes closed as I gently massaged her temples.

"I'm not a 'baddie', okay?" Ria protested, an adorable pout forming on her face "I just couldn't watch Deo drown himself in emotions and alcohol. And about winning..." she winked at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "well, I learned from the best." I chuckled, kissing her forehead gently.

Soon our mansion came in view as I slipped through the basement, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I tiptoed down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the plush rug, acutely aware of the silence that reigned within. The last thing I needed was someone discovering Ria's daring escape, especially after her victory. As the elder brother, I knew if caught, I would be the one to bear consequences for this little escapade.

I carefully ushered them both into Ria's room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Ria, exhausted from her unexpected victory, was already drifting off to sleep. While Rio, settled went in her bathroom to freshen up, I knew he would be with her so I left for my own room. With a silent sigh, I settled into the comfortable embrace of my bed, the adventure of the evening, the thrill of the race, the unexpected turn of event running in my mind.

As I looked outside in shining moonlight that signaled the end of another chapter in my life, and as a ritual, I retreated to my sanctuary – my journal. It wasn't just a collection of thoughts and experiences; it was a lifeline, a means of sharing my day with my stella. Each night, I would pour my heart onto the page, meticulously documenting the triumphs, the setbacks, the mundane moments, and the extraordinary ones with a hope that when she returned, she wouldn't miss out on the intricate tapestry of events that had unfolded in her absence. I yearned to share the laughter, the tears, the fleeting joys, and the profound sorrows that had painted my days. Writing in my journal was more than just a cathartic exercise; it was a way of keeping her connected to my world, of ensuring that she wasn't a mere spectator in the grand theater of my life. It was a reminder that even in her absence, her presence was deeply felt.

As I closed my journal each night, I felt a sense of peace, knowing that I had not only preserved my memories but also made stella a part of it. I prayed that whenever she would return, we would be able to not just pick up where we left off; but also delve into the pages of my journal, reliving each moment, each emotion, each experience, each memory, me and our family went through.



I often find myself questioning the universe's sense of humor. It seems as though life delights in pushing me to the brink, testing the limits of my endurance. I've weathered storms of adversity, each one more ferocious than the last. Just when I believe I've reached the nadir, a new low emerges, a fresh challenge to overcome.

In a desperate attempt to regain control, I did devise a meticulous plan. A strategy so flawless, so foolproof, that it promised to liberate me from the shackles of my tumultuous existence. The intention was simple: execute the mission with precision, and vanish into the ether. However, fate, with its uncanny ability to thwart even the most carefully laid plans, intervened. My carefully constructed edifice of hope was reduced to rubble, leaving me to grapple with the harsh reality of life's unpredictability.

The moon, a celestial orb, hung high in the inky blackness, casting an ethereal glow upon the world below. As I gazed upon its serene beauty, my mind wandered back to a time long past. 4 days back, a chance collision with Alina, the head chef at Romanos, stirred a tempest of emotions within me.

The echo of laughter, a playful chase, and the warmth of family love still linger in my heart. I recall the thrill of a successful prank on Alina, the flour-dusted air, and Cia, my twinnie, my fairy's protective gaze. She was my guardian angel, always ready to shield me from any harm.

Alina, like a grandmother figure, would shake her head with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. I was her little mischief-maker, her firecracker. And Cia, her serene angel.

Though I was but a mere child, a tender five years of age, the events of that time have been indelibly imprinted upon my mind. A cruel side effect of the drugs administered to me, these memories, once hazy and indistinct, have sharpened into a stark and painful reality. They were meant to intensify my longing, to amplify the tears I shed for the Romanos, a family I once called mine.

Will I be wrong to say that even now, in some part of my heart, I miss them? I miss every laughter we shared and the bond I had. I wish I could just run into Dada's and my brother's arms and they could shield me from the monsters like they always did.

Yet, this hopeful thought, a mere whisper of longing, is lost in the cacophony of overthinking. The past, a distant dream, can no longer be reclaimed. The bond we once shared, a fragile thread, has frayed and broken. The comforting embrace of Dada and my brother, a sanctuary from life's storms, is now but a fading memory. As I delve into the recesses of my mind, I realize that the monsters that once haunted my nights were merely shadows cast by the darkness of childhood, illusions that have long since dissipated.

The ghosts of the past continue to haunt me, their spectral forms lingering in the corners of my mind. The echoes of laughter and sorrow, once vibrant and tangible, now reverberate through the empty halls of memory, a constant reminder of what was and what could have been. Though I harbor no ill will towards Cia or perhaps anyone else, I can't harbor any ill will towards them but the wounds inflicted upon my heart remain raw and unhealed, a persistent ache that refuses to subside. The weight of the past, heavy and oppressive, bears down upon me, a constant reminder of the fragility of human connection and the enduring nature of pain.

Okay, Alessandra, I need to pull myself together. I can't keep dwelling on the past. I must be strong. My work here was coming to an end and soon I will be free from the clutches of painful reminders that came with my presence in this place.

Tomorrow, my work schedule is such that I'll only be busy at night. This means I'll have a significant amount of free time during the day. I'm planning to use this time to purchase dresses for Sarah. It's a rather peculiar situation, as the order for these dresses came from Jace. He had the audacity to order me around, as if I were his personal assistant. In reality, he was begging me to do this favor, and out of a sense of friendship, I agreed to his request.

As for Papsi, he's been completely ignoring me. He hasn't called me, and he's not picking up my calls. Instead, he's resorting to using Jace as a proxy, having him call me and ask the questions he's too cowardly to ask himself. He seems to think I'm oblivious to his tactics, but I'm not a fool. I am his daughter, after all, and I know him better than anyone. With all these thoughts invading my mind, I took my sleeping pill and drowned myself in a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, I opted for a classic look. A crisp white button-down, slightly oversized with puffed sleeves, was layered over a sleek black sleeveless top with subtle vertical stripes. I paired this with high-waisted black wide-leg pants and sophisticated black pointed-toe pumps. Delicate earrings and a Cartier watch adorned my wrist, while my long hair cascaded down my back with a middle part. A touch of subtle makeup completed the look. Slinging my black clutch over my shoulder and grabbing my phone, I glanced at the 'list' Jace had sent before heading out to the mall.



The morning sun streamed through the windows of our living room, casting a warm glow on the chaos that was our usual routine. Today, I was going to the mall with Rio and the triplets, a much-needed respite from the somber atmosphere of the past few days. Ales was coming with us, though not at the mall itself. He had a business meeting scheduled at the restaurant adjacent to it. Rico, too had wanted to come but an unexpected medical emergency at the hospital had called him away. Gio, however, remained firmly planted on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the floor. His withdrawal had become a constant in our lives since… since she was gone. The silence that followed was heavy, a palpable reminder of the void left in our lives. Ales, ever the stoic one, masked his grief like always with his cold dememanor. But I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes, the same pain that mirrored my own. We were all adrift, each coping with the loss in our own way, some more outwardly than others. Gio, however, had retreated into himself, a silent testament to the depths of his despair.

Not wanting to dwell more in the loop of painful thoughts, I quickly took a shower and got ready for our day out. I layered a sheer, long-sleeved white shirt under a beige, ribbed knit tank top tied with a bow in front, pairing it with a high-waisted flared light colored jeans I accessorized a pair of chunky, beige heeled sandals and a simple gold necklace with my hair in a simple, half-up half-down style with a small hair clip. I did a very natural makeup understated with a focus on a soft, dewy complexion and a hint of blush on the cheeks. Taking my beige handbag and coffee I went downstairs to the triplets waiting for me..and rio.

"I'm here and I guess the male princess isn't ready yet", I said with a hint of annoyance in my voice at Rio for always being late.

"He's probably busy dressing himself so girls can puke looking at him.," Enzo chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Or rather swoon over me." Came the voice of Rio as he descended down dressed in a black ribbed tshirt with black plated trousers the bracelet given by me on one hand and his silver watch on other, he even wore glasses today when he usually wear lenses.

"Eww Rio and you took time for this", I ask irritatedly.

"You wound my heart princess I expected better from you", he exclaims dramatically putting his hand on his heart making me roll my eyes, he picked his bike keys twirling them around his finger which was taken away by Ales who stood there with his usual cold demeanor all dressed for his meeting in his black business suit.

"Since Ria is going too, you won't be taking your bike and you two won't be car racing, Understood?" Ales asked with his usual cold facade earning a quick obedient nods from Rio, Enzo and Deo as I gave a light smirk to Rio and Deo remembering my last night 'race'.

"Aye aye captain." Rio mock saluted before he held my arms dragging me to our garage. I and Rio got in our Bugatti Tourbillon while Enzo and Deo chose Pagani Huayra Codalunga to go with. Leo was going to come with Ales in his Ferrari F80 as he was also going to the meeting and would join us later. Soon all three engines roared to life as made our way to mall.



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