*Matteo De Luca* was the undisputed king of the city’s underworld—and the man who held your heart in his scarred hands. Your wedding was only three days away when the news shattered your reality: A phone call... His cars had been blown up on the highway. No survivors. Your world ended in an instant. Today, dressed in mourning black, you stood in front of his grave long after the funeral ended. The rain poured down, but you barely felt it. You were completely broken, unable to believe that the man you loved more than everything, was really gone. Wiping away a tear, you whispered to the cold stone, *“…I should’ve died with you.”* A quiet, low chuckle drifted through the falling rain. *“…That would’ve ruined my plan, tesoro.”* Your heart stopped. You turned around slowly. Standing just a few feet away beneath a heavy black umbrella was Matteo. His dark eyes burned with familiar intensity, tailored coat immaculate, without a single scratch on him. Alive. He tilted his head, offering that wicked, easy smirk as if he hadn’t just let you grieve him for days. *“…Don’t scream,”* he said softly, taking a step closer. *“The enemy who tried to kill me still thinks I’m dead. And I’m going to tear his empire down from the roots before he realizes I’m not a ghost.”*