Chapter 3: The Weight of Expectation

Mira stepped into the dimly lit conference room, her father’s presence already filling the space with an unspoken tension. The long mahogany table gleamed under the chandelier’s glow, surrounded by the key figures of the Bellatore family—men who built empires in the shadows, whose words carried the weight of unbreakable deals and silent threats.

Luciano Bellatore sat at the head of the table, a portrait of control and calculation. His sharp blue eyes flicked up the moment Mira entered, assessing her as if she were just another piece on his grand chessboard. Emilio took a seat across from her, his casual slouch a silent act of defiance.

“Mira,” her father greeted, his voice steady but devoid of warmth. “I expect you to pay attention. This concerns your future.”

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to nod. This wasn’t new. Every conversation with him was a lesson in dominance—a reminder that she was born not to live, but to serve the family’s purpose.

Luciano leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “The time has come for you to play a more active role in our operations. You’ve had enough years observing from the sidelines.”

Mira tensed. She had no illusions about what active meant. It wasn’t about taking over a company or negotiating business deals—it was about stepping deeper into the underworld the Bellatores ruled. It was about power, control, and eliminating obstacles.

“I’ve already assigned someone to guide you through your responsibilities,” Luciano continued. “You’ll meet him soon.”

Him? A mentor? Mira’s pulse quickened. This was worse than she’d thought. If her father was bringing in someone specifically to train her, then it meant her involvement wasn’t optional.

She cast a glance at Emilio, but he merely gave her a warning look. Don’t push back here. Not now.

Mira’s fingers curled into a fist beneath the table. “And what if I’m not interested?”

A dangerous silence fell over the room. Vittorio Bellatore, her uncle, let out a low chuckle. “Not interested?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Mira, you don’t get the luxury of disinterest. You were born into this.”

Luciano’s gaze hardened. “This isn’t a request.”

Mira swallowed the lump in her throat. She had spent years trying to balance on the fine line between duty and personal freedom, but it was becoming clearer with each passing day—her father was done letting her linger in the shadows.

She had to find a way out before it was too late.

But first, she had to meet the man who would decide just how deep into this world she would be forced to go.

Just as Mira was about to respond, the heavy wooden doors creaked open. A figure stepped inside, his presence shifting the air in the room. He was tall, composed, with an easy confidence that hinted at years of experience in the underworld. His dark eyes met hers, unreadable yet piercing, and something in Mira’s chest tightened.

“This,” Luciano said, gesturing toward the newcomer, “is Aurelio Ricci. From this moment on, he will be your mentor.”

Mira clenched her jaw. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Aurelio wasn’t just another soldier or strategist—there was something about him, something dangerous and unfazed by the Bellatores' power. He wasn’t here just to train her. He was here to shape her into what her father wanted her to be. And that terrified her more than anything else.

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