An envelope arrived two days later.
It was a cream colored paper with a gold wax seal, and no return address. Which was weird.
It wasn't delivered by mail. It was placed on Mia's pillow while she was out for a walk. No one had been in the house except the maid, and even she swore that she hadn't seen anyone enter Mia's room.
Mia stared at the envelope like it was a death note.
Who the fuck put this here?
She broke the seal with shaking fingers, revealing a handwritten note on the thick paper containing elegant cursive writing written in black ink.
> Mia Celeste De Luca,
> It is time you returned home.
> Summer in Florence will do your spirit well.
> The truth you've been looking for awaits you.
> We will be waiting for your arrival.
L.
L?
Not Santino?
No signature but just a single initial?
She could swear her head spun in 360°.
And then she noticed the bottom corner.
A tiny crest, barely in gold with a black rose wrapped in thorns. It looks a little bit like the tattoo she saw on her mother's arm a few days ago.
It sent a chill down her spine.
She didn't know how or why, but something deep in her bones knew where the letter came from.
De Luca.
She folded the letter slowly and sat on her bed. Her mind packed with different thoughts.
Bianca had been avoiding her since their fight. Even Erica hadn't noticed a thing, since she was too wrapped up in her vanity, modeling contracts, and trying to keep Jace's eyes off every other woman in the room.
Not that Mia gave two fucks about them.
She had bigger things to focus on.
Later that night, she snuck into Bianca's office again. She already knew the passwords, the hidden drawers, the folder of encrypted files marked "De Luca – Confidential."
She scrolled through them on the laptop, her heart pounding.
There were photos of a villa in Florence.
A list of names — Leonardo De Luca. Luciano De Luca. Dante Moretti.
That last name was a little off to her and made her feel anxious.
There was no picture of him.
Just a note beside it: Right-hand to Santino. Dangerously loyal. Extremely lethal.
Extremely lethal?!
Mia's mouth went dry.
"What the fuck?!" She said silently "How can a person be deadly."
And why did that name make her chest ache like deja vu?
She couldn't sleep again.
So, she stood at her window, staring into the night sky, her fingers gripping the edge of the golden sealed letter. Somewhere across the ocean was a family she'd never met, blood she never knew she had, and a stranger whose name clouded her mind like smoke.
She should've been scared.
But all she felt at that moment was numbness.
Though she couldn't stop thinking about how life would be if she grew up with them.
---
By morning, she packed her suitcase, her passport, the envelope and whatever she needed for her stay in Florence.
She told Bianca over breakfast, calmly.
"I'm will be leaving for Florence. Tomorrow."
Bianca's coffee cup froze mid-air. "Mia—"
"I'm did not ask for your opinion. My decision is final."
Her mother opened her mouth, but then she saw Mia's cold gaze.
That gaze was the look Santino gave her when he was serious.
Final.
She exhaled and nodded. "At least let Isaiah think it's a summer internship."
"Fine."
"He'll cover your flights."
"Even better."
"And Mia…"
Mia looked up.
Bianca's voice cracked. "Be careful…. They don't love like we do."
Mia didn't reply.
Because deep down, she knew and didn't want love from them.
She only wanted the truth.
Even if it was dangerous .
---
At the airport, she wore all black, tight jeans paired with a crop top and black boots. Her red lips looking bright and her hair tied up in a messy bun.
She looked nothing like the soft girl who played piano in silence.
This Mia?
She walked with an appearance that screamed power.
She truly is her father's daughter. The De Lua's blood really runs in her veins.
As she stepped onto the private jet Isaiah had "arranged," a man in a black suit greeted her with a nod.
"You must be Mia."
"Depends who's asking."
He cracked a smile. "My name is Marco and I work for your family."
She tilted her head. "Which one?"
"The real one."
He handed her a glass of champagne before taking the seat opposite her.
"No turbulence, Miss De Luca," he said smoothly. "But buckle up anyway. Life tends to get bumpy when your bloodline belongs to the underworld."
She stared at him, unblinking.
So he knows.
She took a long sip of the champagne.
And smiled darkly.
"Let's get bumpy, then."
---