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"To both of them," he agrees softly.

We drink in silence, the weight of the day settling between us. But for a few quiet minutes… the elephant in the room remains unaddressed.

What happens now? After sixteen years of calculating each other's destruction, how do we proceed?

"So, Dante. It is my understanding that in your efforts to overrule me, Western Europe is now… completely yours," Luca says finally, setting his glass down.

"That's correct."

Luca nods. "Fine. I won't contest it, however, moving forward, the UK operations remain under my control. Any neutral territories are to be negotiated."

"Agreed." I study him over the rim of my glass. "And Nico?"

Luca's expression hardens. "We hunt him. Together. He betrayed us both, endangered my wife, my child. That debt will be paid in blood."

"And the Volkovs? They will be motivated more than ever now—"

Luca's glare rips through my words. "Yes. I understand the birth of my child will complicate, if not endanger our current position. A child with Ravelli and Volkov blood is valuable to both sides. But to survive, toprotect,we must ensure we are united."

I nod, the simplicity of these terms belying their revolutionary nature. For sixteen years, we've known only opposition.

"Your wife," Luca says suddenly. "Francesca. She surprised me today."

"She surprises me every day," I admit, the truth slipping out before I can censor it.

"She saved us both. Stood between warring factions and imposed her will through sheer force of personality." Luca's assessment carries reluctant admiration. "A true Ravelli queen."

"She's changed me," I say, surprising myself with the admission. "Transformed me in ways I never sought and can't fully explain."

Luca studies me, really looks at me perhaps for the first time since we were boys.

"I can see that," he says. "I recognize the look. It's how I feel about Bianca. About Elena."

The admission hangs between us, neither fully comfortable with this unexpected vulnerability.

"We are not friends," I clarify, needing to establish boundaries. "We may never be. Too much blood has been spilled to just forget it."

"No," Luca agrees. "We're not friends. But perhaps... we're no longer enemies."

It's not peace. It's not reconciliation.

But it's something neither of us thought possible even this morning…

It's a new beginning.

I throw the rest of my drink back, share a look of trust with Luca, and move to the door.

I find Francesca in the mansion's gardens, standing beneath a stone gazebo where generations of Ravelli marriages have been consecrated. Moonlight bathes her in silver, transforming her into something almost mythical.

A goddess carved from shadow and light.

She's changed from her bloodstained dress into a black dress that ripples to the ground.

"There you are," she says as I approach. "I was beginning to think you and Luca had resumed trying to kill each other after all."

I smile, drawn to her like gravity. "We discussed business. Made arrangements for the near future."

"And you didn't strangle him?"