The serpent's coil

: Adebis

e, or some dignified illness, but from a bullet to the back of the head, left in an alleyway like refuse. The official story was a botched robbery. Isabella knew better. Marco Rossi didn't get "botched." He

ront of her felt like a vast, empty plain. The room itself was a monument to his life: shelves overflowing with first editions and ancient maps, a globe that spun silently in a corner, a

d neatly pressed suits belied the ruthlessness Isabella knew lurked beneath. Luca had been a fixtur

oice a low rumble. "The wi

ing, with a hand resting on her mother's shoulder. Her mother, Elena, who had died when Isabel

er voice barely a wh

winter lake, flickered. "The police are inve

ice gained strength with each word, a defiant tremor that surprised even herself. She had always been kept on the periphery of her f

father made many powerful enemies, Isabe

orld.' I care about justice. An

n and something else – perhaps a grudging respect –

she retorted, pushing herself up from

er father's lawyer, a thin man named Mr. Thorne, droned on about assets, trusts, and various properties. Isabella tuned most

, to his beloved daughter, Isabella Rossi, Marco Rossi bequeaths full ownership and contro

usinesses?" she echoed, a note of disbelief in her voice. Her father had legitim

unreadable. "Yes, Miss Rossi. Your

handed her the keys to his empire, the very same empire that had ultimately led to his demise. She knew, with a certainty that settled d

ched in his hand. "Your father left this for you," he said

ncial statements and legal documents, was a single, cryptic not

ens. Find the head, Bella

nding pass between them. The game had just begun, and she was the unwitting player in a deadly match she hadn't asked