Elena's POV
"Let the trial begin."
The voice on the intercom was flat. Robotic. As if someone had programmed hell to speak politely.
I stood frozen in the middle of the cell, Lorenzo's blood drying on my hands, the weight of what "trial" meant tightening around my throat like a noose.
"What trial?" I whispered.
He didn't answer right away.
Because he already knew.
I could see it in his face — not fear, not even anger. Just cold resignation.
"They want to see if we'll bend," he said. "If we'll break. If we'll follow the plan they tried to write for us."
"What plan?"
"Legacy," he said bitterly. "They're trying to breed control into bloodlines. To own the future of the five families. We're just part of the experiment now."
My stomach churned.
I backed away until I hit the cell wall.
"They can't force us—"
"They don't have to," he said quietly. "They'll manipulate us until we do it ourselves."
I laughed, a hollow, shaking thing. "Do you really think I'd ever—?"
"No," he said. "But they're not betting on now."
"What, then?"
"They're betting on time."
And time is the cruelest weapon.
We were alone. Isolated. Weak. No guards watching directly. No commands. Just… pressure.
Food arrived two hours later — untouched by human hands, delivered through a sliding drawer beneath the door. Two bowls of rice. One cup of water. And a syringe.
"What is that?" I asked.
Lorenzo inspected it. "Sedative. Small dose."
I grabbed it and threw it against the wall.
Let them watch. Let them know I wouldn't play nice.
"You said they're not betting on now," I said. "But they made a mistake."
He raised a brow. "Which one?"
"They underestimated how fast I learn."
Lorenzo chuckled, low and dark. "Tell me."
I dropped to my knees and dragged one of the metal food trays toward me.
"They think this is a test of patience," I said. "But it's a test of perception."
I flipped the tray over, ran my fingers along the underside.
Nothing.
Then I tried the wall again — section by section.
Tap. Tap. Hollow. Solid.
Then—click.
A panel slid open.
Lorenzo stood beside me instantly.
Inside, a single item.
A camera.
Old. Obvious.
"They want us to find it," he said.
"Exactly." I pulled it out. "They want us to react."
Lorenzo stared at the wall behind the panel, eyes narrowing.
"And if they're letting us react…"
"There's another layer to this game."
"Bait," he finished.
And that's when the second camera clicked on above us.
We looked up.
Red light blinking.
The wall behind us hissed, then slid open.
Not out — inward.
A door to a chamber we hadn't seen before.
Lorenzo raised a hand to stop me.
I brushed past him anyway.
If they wanted me to see something, I'd see it — and remember everything.
Inside: a sterile white room with glass walls. Beyond them, monitors. IV bags. Cryo pods.
And inside the farthest pod…
My mother.
Frozen.
Eyes closed.
Alive.
"Oh my God," I breathed.
Her lips were pale. Her wrists bound in stasis cuffs. Her pulse slow but steady on the monitor above her.
Lorenzo stepped in beside me.
"She's not dead," I said.
"No," he said softly. "She's in suspension. Cryogenic lockdown. Brain activity's active. This is stasis tech — not mafia standard. Military-grade."
I touched the glass.
It was cold.
"She's still fighting," I whispered.
Then a voice behind us said, "That's what makes her dangerous."
We spun.
Mother stood in the doorway, her gloved hands behind her back, her mouth smiling too softly.
I blocked Lorenzo with my body without thinking.
She laughed.
"How sweet. Love blooms in the pit."
I didn't speak.
Just stared her down.
"You opened the door," she continued. "That means you're ready to understand your place."
"I understand nothing except you're a coward," I said.
Her lips twitched.
"You're spirited. So was Isabella. But spirit doesn't preserve legacy. Control does."
She pressed a button on the tablet in her hand.
A screen lowered from the ceiling.
And the footage that played made my blood run ice-cold.
My father.
In the same chair where my mother once sat.
Not restrained.
Not forced.
Speaking.
"…I gave them my daughter to save my empire. She doesn't need to know the truth. Let her hate me. I'll take that. But I won't let her destroy what we've built."
Then static.
Then darkness.
Then silence.
Lorenzo turned to me, expression unreadable.
"Elena—"
But I was already crumbling.
My knees hit the ground.
He knew.
He knew.
My father sold me, just like he sold my mother. Not for safety. Not for peace.
For power.
For legacy.
Mother approached.
"Now do you understand? The past has already been written. But you, Elena—you can choose how it ends."
I raised my eyes.
"By becoming your pawn?"
"By becoming our queen."
"You want an heir," I spat. "You want to control the future."
"No." Her smile turned serpentine. "We already own it. All we need now is for you to accept it."
I stood.
Walked straight to her.
Face to face.
And said the words I knew would shake her:
"You forgot one thing."
"What's that?"
I leaned in, whispered it like a curse.
"I don't need permission to destroy you."
She blinked.
Then I pulled the hidden blade from my waistband and slashed her wrist.
She screamed.
Lorenzo tackled the nearest guard as the alarms blared.
I grabbed the syringe from the fallen tray, stabbed it into the guard's neck, and he dropped.
Mother staggered back, clutching her bleeding wrist.
"You little—"
I didn't let her finish.
I kneed her in the ribs and slammed her against the wall.
"You want a queen?" I snarled. "Then bow."
But before I could strike again—
Gas hissed from the vents.
Lorenzo shouted.
I turned—
And everything went black.
I woke up in a different cell.
Alone.
No windows. No clocks.
Just a mirror.
And on the mirror, written in blood-red lipstick:
"Ready for your crown?"
( CLIFFHANGERS INCOMING)
The door opened.
Footsteps echoed.
A voice I hadn't heard in years whispered:
"Hello, baby girl."
"Dad?"