Bad Blood

One day, inside a room within a discotheque in Serrano Bay, a young man stood while smoking a cigarette, facing a man in his forties. This young man was Dante, twenty-five years old at the time. Behind him, a twenty-six-year-old named Lucius leaned against the wall, observing as Dante fixed a threatening gaze upon the older man.

"Do you understand the consequences of not paying this month?" Dante grinned as he approached the man.

The man looked down wordlessly, his clothes soaked with sweat, and his entire body trembling. The question from a man half his age made him lose his nerve.

Dante grabbed the man's hair, then brought his face closer while glaring. "Why are you so quiet?"

"I apologize," the man said in a barely audible voice.

Dante forcefully slammed the man's head onto the table. "Say it one more time."

"I apologize for–"

Before the man could finish his words, Dante struck his head so many times that his face bled. Not yet satisfied, Dante stomped on his head and then pressed a cigarette ember into the man's hand. Instantly, the man screamed in pain. However, Dante didn't seem to care, nor did Lucius, who showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Saying sorry can't pay the bill," Dante said coldly.

"I truly regret my inability to pay, but they're obstructing the distribution of drinks to this area," the man said, trying to make an excuse.

Dante raised one eyebrow. "Who are you talking about?"

"The Ferraro," the man replied, stammering.

Dante contemplated this for a few moments. After that, he lifted his foot, then turned to face Lucius. Lucius understood Dante's brief glance and walked towards the door.

"Listen, I'm giving you until this week to pay," Dante said sternly. After saying that, he walked out of the room, followed by Lucius.

The two of them walked side by side, glancing around. Unlike usual, the discotheque was quiet, occupied only by employees and guards who whispered with frightened expressions as Dante and Lucius passed. It seemed like they recognized Dante and Lucius, so no one dared to approach.

Dante Moretti, the only son of Angelo Moretti, the ruler of the dark world in Serrano Bay. As the offspring of one of the biggest mobsters, Dante was feared by many. His hot-tempered and uncompromising nature led many to believe he had inherited his father's traits. However, for Lucius, Dante was not at all intimidating. Their friendship had thrived since childhood. Lucius was Moretti's adopted son, making their relationship akin to that of brothers.

"Hey, Lucius, aren't you bored?" Dante asked.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You always say something like that every time you collect fees."

"Of course. Collecting fees is child's play," Dante responded.

"Father wants to keep us out of danger, so this job suits us best," Lucius said.

"He still thinks we're kids." Dante started the car, then drove it out of the parking lot.

"What do you want? To challenge the Ferraro group that's been obstructing our business lately? Don't dream," Lucius retorted.

Dante fell silent for a few moments before finally saying, "I wish, but father asked us to go home immediately."

After saying that, Dante stepped on the pedal and accelerated the car to high speed.

***

Upon arriving home, Angelo Moretti invited Dante and Lucius to attend the grand inauguration party for the new Mayor, a lavish event held at the opulent city hall. Despite his initial reluctance, Dante found himself unable to refuse his father's command.

The night was adorned with elegantly dressed guests, the soft glow of chandeliers casting an ethereal ambiance. As the trio entered the hall, their presence caught the attention of many, whisperings of their notorious reputation drifting through the air.

As fate would have it, upon reaching the heart of the celebration, they crossed paths with Emilio Ferraro, the enigmatic leader of the Ferraro Family – arch-rivals of the Moretti clan. Emilio's steely eyes locked onto Angelo's, a brief but intense exchange that spoke volumes of the deep-seated animosity between the two families. Dante's own seething disdain mirrored his father's, yet the formal setting demanded an appearance of civility.

Angelo's attention was soon diverted by business associates and political allies, leaving Dante and Lucius to navigate the opulent soirée. Lucius, ever the practical thinker, sought refuge in a nearby seat, his heavy eyelids dropping with exhaustion.

"Sleepyhead," Dante grumbled, glancing at Lucius, then standing up, "What a bore."

Dante wandered toward an open balcony, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. His steps faltered as he gazed upon the glittering cityscape, the sea of lights captivating his senses. Just as he was about to turn back, his attention was arrested by a figure bathed in moonlight.

She stood alone, her presence an enigma amidst the crowd. A cascade of black hair framed her delicate features, and her dark eyes, held a hint of mystery. Dante's heart quickened its rhythm, a sensation foreign to him. He felt a magnetic pull, drawing him closer to this captivating stranger.

Unbeknownst to him, the woman's gaze had also found its mark. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. In that singular instance, their souls connected, weaving an unspoken narrative that transcended their circumstances.

Dante's chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat. It was as if time itself had suspended, leaving them trapped in a silent reverie. He found himself captivated by the nuances of her expression, the slight quirk of her lips, the curiosity mirrored in her eyes.

As reality slowly reasserted itself, Dante tore his gaze away, his heart pounding with an unfamiliar mixture of longing and uncertainty. He retreated into the ballroom, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Who was she? And why did her presence stir something deep within him?

"She's incredibly beautiful, but she's a Ferraro."

The words suddenly sounded from behind, making Dante flinch and turn his head. He saw Lucius already standing there. He had not expected Lucius to have woken up, but the words Lucius spoke surprised him even more.

"What? She's a Ferraro?" Dante asked, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Lucius nodded, his voice hushed with a hint of intrigue, "You know, Dante, that woman you couldn't take your eyes off? Her name is Ariana Ferraro, the daughter of none other than Emilio Ferraro."

Dante's expression changed, revealing a mix of surprise and disappointment in his eyes. Lucius offered a half-smile and placed a comforting hand on Dante's shoulder, his voice light but supportive, "Dante, cheer up! The world is full of stunning women, not only Ariana whom you can't possibly have."

"Dante..." Ariana murmured, hearing Lucius call the man who had caught her attention.

As Dante and Lucius distanced themselves from the captivating scene, Ariana's gaze remained fixated on them. Her eyes tracked their movements until they halted, seemingly engaged in conversation with Angelo. Recognition dawned upon her – the man who had held her fascination was a Moretti, a revelation that brought forth a delicate