Chapter 56: VOLUME II: DARK DEVOTION

INTRO

To touch is treason. To exist in the same room is a death sentence

And yet, silent desires echoes in the middle of the night.

Hidden dirty screams muffled across every corner of the room.

Infiltrating Marco’s home as a servant, Fabio is here to get back what is his.

But it is not simple. Because one single slip and he is dead.

They are of the same world but destined to be foes at birth.

One is a Moretti, the other is a Corvino. Each has their own Mafia empire to rule.

To break the barriers, they will let the world burn. Does not matter the price, as long as they get to feel each other.

This is not love: It is pure madness, and now, it’s being fed poison.

***

****

Third POV

6 Months Later

Naples, Campania

A slow song hummed through the crowded hall, barely audible over the low murmur of polished voices. From the marble archways to the dark tuxedos, silk gowns, and practiced smiles, the room was a display of high-society excess. This was a private gathering for Campania’s true elite: influential politicians, wealthy business leaders, and the syndicate bosses who controlled them from the shadows.

Near the grand staircase, conversation died down as eyes turned toward the landing. An older man stood at the top of the steps, taking in the quiet with complete composure.

Edoardo Moretti, host of the evening and head of the family, possessed an authority that commanded instant attention. Though age had etched subtle lines around his eyes, his sharp features remained striking. The silver in his beard only enhanced his formidable presence, and his faint smile served as a silent reminder that he was not a man to be crossed.

As the music faded entirely, Edoardo adjusted his collar and addressed the assembled crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "I am glad so many of you could join us tonight. As most of you know, the time has come for me to pass the burden of my family business to my eldest son. Tonight marks his formal introduction."

A ripple of low whispers swept through the room as sharp, calculating glances passed between rival bosses and ambitious guests alike.

"Please join me in welcoming the new leader of the Moretti family," Edoardo announced, stepping back from the railing. "My son, Marco Moretti."

The older man descended the first few steps and paused, turning back.

From the shadows of the upper floor, a tall figure stepped into the warm light of the chandeliers. Marco wore a dark, tailored suit that fitted his frame perfectly. His face was entirely unreadable. Creeping up his neck was a dense trail of dark ink, tattoos that slipped beneath his crisp collar and reemerged across the backs of his hands down to his knuckles.

A pace behind him, two heavily built men stepped out to flank him, their dark suits matching his own. Tony and James moved with the quiet precision of seasoned guards.

Marco walked down the marble steps with slow steps, the two other men following close behind. Reaching the main floor, he stood beside his father without looking at him, his dark eyes fixed silently on the crowd.

"I trust we can all look forward to a prosperous future together," Edoardo said smoothly, placing a hand on Marco’s shoulder. "Please, enjoy the evening."

With the announcement over, the music returned, and guests resumed their quiet chatter. Yet, many kept their eyes locked on the young Moretti heir, searching for a single opening to approach and curry favor with the family’s new boss.

"If you are finished displaying me, can I leave?" Marco muttered, his voice low enough for only his father to hear.

Edoardo kept his fake smile fixed on the crowd, though his tone turned icy. "You will stay for at least half an hour."

Marco’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists inside his coat pockets, but he said nothing.

"Luca will be arriving tonight," Edoardo added softly. "Be on your best behavior."

At the sound of the name, Marco’s gaze darkened. A subtle twitch in his brow betrayed his sudden irritation, though he quickly forced his face back into a blank, stone mask.

For the next thirty minutes, Edoardo paraded Marco around the hall, introducing him to key allies, corrupt officials, and high-ranking lieutenants. Marco endured the artificial pleasantries with cold indifference, offering only curt, precise answers while keeping his guard up.

The moment thirty minutes had passed, Marco turned and headed back toward the staircase. Reaching the quiet upper corridor, he rubbed his temple, feeling a dull headache coming on. Behind him, Tony and James maintained a respectful distance, their footsteps echoing softly.

Distracted by the ache in his head, Marco rounded a corner without paying full attention and collided hard with someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Fuck! Watch where you’re going!" Marco snapped, catching his balance.

A servant had fallen backward, dropping a caddy of spray bottles, rags, and a mop that clattered noisily onto the floor. The worker slowly, almost hesitantly dropped to his knees, bowing his head deeply. He wore a dark shirt, trousers, an oversized black coat, and a cloth face mask covering his lower features.

Marco hissed in annoyance, stepped over the scattered cleaning tools, and swept past into his private bedroom. Tony and James cast a brief glance at the servant before taking up positions on either side of the door.

Left alone in the hallway, the servant slowly raised his head. He pulled his mask down to his neck and took a long breath. His sharp features were pale under the dim light.

He looked down at his dark uniform, then smoothed his hair back with a quiet sigh.

"Did he not recognize me?" Fabio murmured under his breath, staring down the empty corridor. He glanced at his reflection in a dark window pane, a slight grimace tweaking his lips. "I don’t look that different... though I do look ridiculous."

Before he could dwell on it, fast footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.

Fabio quickly pulled his mask back over his face and crouched low, pretending to gather his scattered tools.

The footsteps drew closer, and a lone figure walked past at a swift pace, moving toward the same floor Marco had gone to.

Fabio raised his head slightly as the man passed. The lingering annoyance on his face vanished, replaced by a dark, intense focus. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the man’s movement, his grip tightening around the mop handle until his knuckles turned pale.

He watched until the man turned the corner and disappeared.

"Luca," Fabio whispered softly, his voice heavy with bitter ice. "So that’s your new guy, huh?"

Fabio swallowed hard, feeling a thick knot form in his throat as several instances of what might have happened this bug and Marco crossed his mind. Driven by a sudden spike of anger, he pulled his hand back and punched the wall beside him with a muffled thud.