Cleopatra had returned to her mansion, one of the many owned by her family, yet for someone who had nearly lost her life, she appeared unnervingly calm.
Such composure wasnât normal, but it revealed the kind of woman she truly was.
Three men stood before her. Not just any menâsupermodel-tier men, their chiseled physiques bare for her viewing. They were stark naked, and Cleopatra regarded them with nothing more than a glass of wine in hand.
To her, they were no more than an exhibition, beautiful ornaments on display. They would never be granted the honor of touching her.
Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere.
If Kyle could make such bold moves, then what of Marcello? He was a man with the power to unite people, but his rise had been marred by betrayal and blood. Because of that, there would always be those within his own ranks who despised him.
Who could resist the temptation of power? Cleopatra was no fool. She knew exactly what had to be done.
The reason behind her eerie calm would soon be revealed. For now, the men stood like dolls awaiting her admiration.
Who was she to ignore Godâs craftsmanship? Their sculpted bodies were the finest examples of physical beauty, art in living form.
It was all a power play.
Then, the doorbell rang, its echo traveling through the massive estate.
The guard on intercom quickly relayed the name of the visitor.
Cleopatra didnât look displeased at the mention. If anything, she seemed expectant.
Setting her empty glass aside, she gave the order to let her guest in.
Kyle could never take Marcelloâs headânot yet. The truth was, even Cleopatra herself couldnât reach him. Marcello was too careful, too thorough in covering his tracks. He only appeared when he wanted to, and attacking him during a family gathering would be nothing short of suicide.
The door creaked open, and in stepped the guest Cleopatra had been waiting for.
Something about her felt familiar.
"Welcome, Madame," Cleopatra greeted smoothly.
The woman who entered was none other than Isabeau, head of the Delacroix family.
"Cleopatra, I see youâve gone through lengths to make sure Iâm entertained," Isabeau murmured, her eyes already fixed on the naked men arranged before her.
She liked what she saw. Which made it clearâthis wasnât about Cleopatra. The performance was for Isabeau.
"You know me too well," Cleopatra replied. But she noticed Isabeauâs gaze shift toward the estateâs fortified perimeter. Security had been tightened.
"It seems youâve finally considered my proposal," Isabeau said, snapping her fingers. At the cue, the men encircled her like living statues.
"Marcello came after my head," Cleopatra stated with a weary sigh.
"I told you it was only a matter of time. I even gave you the warning, did I not?" Isabeau reminded her, voice sharp. Isabeau relationship with Cleopatra was wildly unknown as there was no telling how they met each other in the first place.
She had indeed. Marcello was moving toward something drastic, though he had no idea that Cleopatra and Isabeau were tied together.
It was Cleopatra who had helped Isabeau ascend to her position, and for that reason, Isabeauâs loyalty had always belonged to her.
"You did warn me, but I didnât expect Marcello to act so foolishly. Now, Iâll have to kill him," Cleopatra declared, as if it were the simplest task in the world. She watched carefully for Isabeauâs reaction.
"I cannot allow that," Isabeau objected instantly.
"Oh? Then Iâll just kill you along with him if you stand in my way." Cleopatraâs lips curled as she sipped her wine. She had no problem getting rid of this woman as she would just be an unfortunate casualty of war, no hard feelings.
"He is my boss. Iâm bound to him. You know this," Isabeau counteredâbut then hesitated.
The naked men exchanged wary glances, silently questioning if they should even be hearing such words.
"But..." Isabeau finally added. That hesitation alone spoke volumes. She had warned Cleopatra in advance, despite knowing the risk. Her loyalty to Marcello wasnât as unshakable as she believed.
At the end of the day, she had ambitions of her own and the direction Marcello was taking the Mafia wasnât one she agreed with.
"Now that," Cleopatra said with a grin, "is what I wanted to hear."
Nakamura sat in his office, left to his thoughts after Kyleâs departure. The smile tugging at his lips made it clear: nothing good was on his mind.
This wasnât new territory. Though he no longer bore his familyâs banner, Nakamuraâs Yakuza roots meant he understood the underworld better than most.
He wasnât stupid. He knew exactly why he had sent Kyle after Marcelloâs daughter.
Not only was it to remove Kyle from the immediate equation, but also to protect him from the storm brewing ahead.
If Marcello learned that his daughterâs location had been leaked, there was no doubt heâd send his most trusted men overseas to England to guard her. He already had watchful eyes around her, but this was different. This was war.
The idea was to reduce the men around him that he could trust, making it easier for the sword of the traitor to reach his neck.
Marcello had gone to great lengths to keep her true location hiddenâeven from the other family heads.
The twisted part? The girl seen at his side wasnât even her. It was a body double, a decoy used to fool anyone watching too closely as Marcello couldnât have that.
But Nakamura had pieced it together. He always studied potential threats thoroughly.
And unbeknownst to Kyle, the woman who had tried to orchestrate his death wasnât Marcelloâs daughter at all. She was the double.
The real daughter had never laid eyes on Kyle, and now he was walking straight into her world with the wrong impression.
Nakamura knew this truth. He simply chose to keep it to himself.
After all, if Kyle learned it now, his judgment might falterâand Nakamura couldnât allow that.