The Price Of A Necklace
The sun had dipped beyond the hills, casting long shadows over Adriano's residence.
The living room was heavy with tension and quiet thought. Diamond sat beside Adriano, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her shirt. Across from her, the three Greco brothers looked less composed than they had hours ago. The weight of their father’s call, the auction, Rosalia’s necklace—it all sat on their shoulders like steel.
Alessandro leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, his phone clasped between both hands, his knuckles pale. His brows were pinched in that familiar way that meant he was deep in calculation.
“I think it’s time I call Papà back,” he said at last, breaking the stillness.
Gabriele gave a quiet nod. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Alessandro looked to his younger brother, eyes narrowing slightly. “Adriano.”
Adriano blinked, pulled from his thoughts. “Hm?”
“I want to call Papà.”
Adriano nodded absently, his voice low. “Okay.”
Gabriele glanced across the room, landing on Diamond. “Do you mind giving us a few minutes? Just the three of us?”
Adriano’s head snapped up.
“No,” Adriano said immediately, firm. “She stays.”
Diamond was already rising to her feet. “It’s fine,” she said gently. “Really. This feels… private. Like I’m not supposed to be here.”
Adriano turned sharply to her, his voice harder than he intended. “Sit down.”
She stilled. Slowly, she lowered herself back onto the couch beside him.
He turned to Gabriele, eyes burning. “Diamond’s become an important part of my life, I want her here. But if you insist she leaves, I’m leaving too.”
Diamond’s heart gave a hard thud in her chest. She stared at him, speechless. Adriano wasn’t one for grand statements. But that? That made her feel like she meant something in a world full of shadows and blood.
Gabriele’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes flicking to Alessandro, who only shrugged faintly.
“Fine,” Gabriele muttered.
Alessandro wasted no more time. He dialed the number, hit speaker, and set the phone on the glass table. The room fell into a taut silence as the line rang once—twice.
Don Raffaele picked up before the third.
“Alessandro,” came his voice, deep and unmistakably authoritative. “I assume Gabriele has informed you.”
“Yes, Papà,” Alessandro said.
“Is Adriano there as well?”
“He is.”
“Good.”
A short pause.
“I want this recorded,” Don Raffaele said. “You’ll need to get the details exactly right.”
Alessandro reached forward and tapped the record button on the call screen. “Recording.”
“Now listen carefully,” Raffaele said. “There’s an estate in Beverly Hills. On the surface, it’s a vineyard—a beautiful property that the rich like to tour on weekends. But that’s a front. The estate is called Villa Cielo Nero, The Black Sky Estate. It belongs to La Rosa Nera. Valentino Moretti’s American base of operation.”
The brothers exchanged glances. Adriano's jaw flexed.
“Hidden tunnels run beneath the estate,” Raffaele continued. “Private bunkers, escape routes, and vaults. Helicopter pads behind the main building. But the main event—the auction—is happening underground. In a ballroom beneath the wine cellar. The only entrance is through an elevator hidden behind a false wine rack. It's locked with biometric access.”
Gabriele muttered a low curse.
“As for security,” Raffaele said, “it’s unlike anything you’ve seen. Valentino’s personal soldiers—those bastards in red suits with black rose pins—will be on every floor. Heat vision drones, sniper lookouts, biometric scanners at every checkpoint. No invite, no entry. And if you're uninvited? They shoot to kill.”
Alessandro leaned back slightly, absorbing it all. “How do they even decide who gets in?”
Raffaele didn’t miss a beat. “The Gilded Veil.”
That name dropped like a guillotine.
“They’re the ones behind it,” Raffaele said. “Curators of the most illegal, high-level transactions in the world. They scout people—billionaires, warlords, sex traffickers, arms dealers, even A-list celebrities—at private galas, backroom parties and sex clubs. You don’t apply. They find you.”
Diamond shivered involuntarily.
“The invite system is encrypted and personalized,” he continued. “Each one is tied to a unique biometric marker—fingerprint, retina, or even voice pattern. They cannot be copied or transferred. Even the auction catalog is sent out just 24 hours before the event on disposable tech. Gone after one viewing.”
“That’s gonna be a problem,” Alessandro muttered. “We can’t forge something that’s literally bonded to someone’s DNA.”
Adriano gave a faint smirk. “It won’t be a problem. Serena can work miracles, plus all we need is a solid plan.”
Alessandro raised a brow. “She better. Because this isn’t just another job. This is a fucking war zone in tuxedos.”
“Then we go to war in tuxedos,” Adriano said coolly.
Gabriele leaned forward. “Papà… what else?”
“I trust the three of you to find a way in,” Don Raffaele said. “You each have men. Use them. Coordinate. Gabriele, you brought trusted and well trained soldiers from Naples. Alessandro, you have long-standing men with you over there. Adriano…” he paused, “you’ve built your own network here. Lean on them. Because if anything goes south—and it very well might—you’ll need backup ready to move.”
There was a long pause.
“Let me remind you three that there's only two weeks before the auction,” Raffaele finished. “Not a day more. I suggest you begin planning tonight. Don’t disappoint me.”
“We won’t,” the three brothers said almost in unison.
“Buona fortuna.” Don Raffaele said.
Silence blanketed the room again.
The only sound was the soft buzz of the phone call ending.
Diamond looked around, her voice hesitant but firm. “So… what happens now?”
Adriano picked up his phone. “Now?” he echoed.
He dialed.
The ring barely lasted two seconds before it was answered.
“Serena,” Adriano said, “I need you at my place now. Bring Marco and Luca.”