Chapter 2 Chapter 2.
The morning sun rose, but for Aria Kane, it brought no light—only the blinding weight of loss.
She stood at the edge of her ruined home, arms folded tightly across her chest. Yellow tape flapped weakly in the breeze, cordoning off the house that had once been filled with warmth and laughter. Now it stood hollow, broken. Ashes of memories clung to the walls. The police were still investigating, though it felt like a formality now.
“Mrs. Kane,” a young officer said, lifting the tape for her. “You sure you want to go in?”
She nodded silently, stepping inside.
The living room was trashed. Blood still stained the cream carpet where her husband's body had fallen. Her son’s stuffed giraffe—soaked red and torn apart still laid right where it was, untouched by the investigators. No one had thought to move it. She picked it up gently, clutched it to her chest, and closed her eyes.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
No matter how many times she convinced herself that it was all a nightmare she would wake from, every bit of reality never ceased to dawn on her. Three whole days made sure to confirm it.
She walked into Jamie’s room. Everything was untouched, except for the police tape across the hallway. His little bed. His race car posters. The soft bear he slept with every night. They all dug up her memories and she broke again for the umpteenth time. The grief came in waves—some silent, some loud.
The hurling sound of the ambulance outside pulled her out momentarily. She went outside and saw the attendants already bringing out her husband and son's bodies, ready for the funeral.
Last night, she had made arrangements for a funeral. Her decision was quick that it offended the police. But what could she do? No friends, No family.
“The graves are ready too,” an officer informed her.
“Thank you,” her voice came out as a whisper.
“Just hold on a little, the priest would be here soon,” he added.
“Priest?” She was surprised. She never arranged for a priest.
“Detective Holloway arranged one for you,” the officer replied and she gave a nod.
“Mrs Kane, please come forward and confirm the bodies,” the mortuary attendant requested.
With slow heavy steps, Aria made her way to the coffins. She first looked into the larger coffin containing her husband's body, and her heart broke a million times.
She turned to her side where a smaller coffin stood and in it was her son's body. She slowly placed her hand on his head and ruffled his hair like she always did when he was alive. “Mom is sorry, Jamie... I failed you as a mother.”
She finally retracted her hand and faced the attendant. “Confirmed.”
A car drove into the compound, and from it, stepped out a middle-aged man in a cassock. She immediately realized that he was the priest. “Greetings, father,” she greeted the priest.
“Greetings, child,” the priest responded. “And may the Lord comfort you.”
They all moved together to the back of the house, and the funeral began.
Aria stood by the two coffins lowered into the earth side by side as the priest began reading from a card. Her legs shook beneath her dress, but she stood tall. Tears refused to fall now. Grief had gone beyond crying.
When the priest finally stepped away, Aria dropped two roses into the graves.
“I will not let this go,” she whispered. “I swear it on your graves.”
As they covered up the graves, so did her heart get sealed up—buried in pain, grief and...rage.
The priest walked to her and whispered a few words of comfort that were now useless to her dead heart.
Bidding her farewell, he left.
Aria returned to the police station. Her eyes were red, but her voice was steel.
“Detective Holloway,” she said, approaching the man seated at his desk, sipping coffee like he wasn’t holding the ruins of her life in a thin file.
He looked up, annoyed. “Mrs. Kane. We’re still reviewing the incident.”
“Reviewing?” she snapped. “It’s been three days! You told me you’d be pursuing leads. What have you found?”
Holloway sighed. “We’ve concluded it was a robbery gone wrong. A break-in. Random.”
“Random?” Her voice cracked. “You found no signs of forced entry. No valuables taken. My husband was shot execution-style and my son smothered! And that note—”
“Enough!” he barked, slamming his hand on the desk. The room grew silent. Other officers glanced over but quickly returned to their work.
Holloway leaned forward, voice lowered now. “I’m going to give you some advice, Aria. Don’t go throwing around accusations you can’t prove. You don’t want to make enemies.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re protecting someone.”
“I’m telling you to back off. You want to live? Let this go.”
She clenched her fists. “Marius Velkoz—”
Holloway stood. “Stop. Say his name again and you’ll leave here in cuffs for obstruction. We’re done.”
Her throat burned with unshed rage. She turned on her heel and stormed out.
Outside, the sky had darkened. The rain came down lightly, but it felt like the heavens wept in her place. Aria walked for blocks before stopping beneath a flickering streetlamp. She sat on the curb, her body shivering with cold and fury.
They weren’t going to help her.
They were never going to help her.
The system was rigged. Bought. Corrupt.
Her husband's and son's killer walked free. The man she once rejected. The man with power, money, and now—blood on his hands.
She had nothing. No family. No allies. No support.
But she still had a name. One name.
Lucien Moretti.
The whispers had always surrounded him. The Mafia Don. The Ghost in the Shadows. The Devil in a suit. He didn’t show up in news reports or police files, but everyone knew who really ran the city, and it wasn’t the mayor.
Lucien made people disappear. He moved with silence and struck with precision. Aria had once feared him like everyone else.
Now… he was her only hope.
Her mind reeled. Was she really considering this?
But what other choice did she have?
She couldn’t sit still while her child’s laughter faded into memory. While her husband’s blood cried out for justice. The police had shut the door in her face. Justice wasn’t coming through legal channels.
So maybe, just maybe… justice needed to be bought.
She stood, drenched and trembling, her heart thudding with cold certainty.
Tomorrow, she would find him.
She would face the Devil himself.
And she would make a deal.