The next morning, Mr Bagrovisky visited the Bagrovisky mausoleum—a marble crypt tucked away behind the estate, where her mother’s ashes rested.

He hadn’t been here in two years.

The flowers he placed were fresh, crimson, and white—the colors of war—and love.

Gabriel stood beside him, silent.

“She died years ago already,” Mr Bagrovisky said, voice distant. “Car bomb. Meant for my father.”

Gabriel looked at him.

“She was the only softness we ever knew.”

They stood in silence until he spoke again.

“I’m tired of living in blood. But I don’t know anything else.”

Gabriel looked and spoke. “Then you should build something else.”

He smiled. “How am I supposed to build anything when death is always standing in front of us?” He said it coldly, but there was a trace of anger and sadness in his voice.

Gabriel frowned.

“Gabriel… after your parents and my mother died, did your heart fill with anger? Did you also want revenge?”

“Of course, how can I ignore what happened to them? I won't stop hunting down those who killed them.” 

“You’re still a big liar, Gabriel,” chuckled.

Behind them, the stone bore his mother’s name. A ghost of who she once was.

Ahead, a storm was brewing—and they would face it side by side.

>>10 Years Ago<<

“Mother, where are you and Aunt heading?”

“Your aunt and I are just going on a business trip with your father. We’ll be fine. Fabio, my son, stay at home and look after your cousin Gabriel, alright?”

“Okay, mother,” Fabio smiled at her warmly.

“Be good to your cousin Gabriel, okay?

“Okay, Mother, Goodbye, Auntie, Mother,” Gabriel said while waving to them.

Barely had their car disappeared from the estate when the vehicle they were in exploded. The blast left them in shock, and the guards immediately went on high alert.

Fabio was only sixteen when the car exploded. ‘’‘M-Mom… Auntie… no!’’ he cried out, sobbing uncontrollably.

He saw Gabriel running towards the car that exploded, and Fabio ran to save him. 

“No.. stop Gabriel,” he said while crying.

“N–Noo.. Mother.. A-Auntie no..” he screamed as he cried like there was no tomorrow. Fabio pulled him into a tight embrace. The storm of pain and emotion betrayed him in his eyes.

*****

A few hours after the incident.

In the pitch-dark room, Fabio's eyes glowed with a cold, deadly gaze. Sharp enough to destroy everything in his path. The air is thick and suffocating.

A soft knock echoed before his butler entered, his voice cutting through the heavy air, “Mr Bagrovskiy, your mother and auntie’s funeral has been taken care of.”

Fabio looked at him coldly and asked, “Where is Gabriel?”

“Mr. Gabriel is still asleep, exhausted from crying. Should I wake him?”

“No, leave him.” Fabio’s gaze remained empty and unreadable.

“Mr. Fabio, why don’t you try to get some rest first?” he asked, worry lacing his voice.

“ Lead the way,” he said coldly.

His words stunned him into silence. The night felt different—something had changed. The gentle warmth he used to have changed starting that day.

“Roger, Mr Bagrovskiy,” he replied, and they began walking.

>>At Funeral<<

“Hello, Fabio. Sorry for your loss.”  From the old men who worked alongside his father. 

His gaze was cold as he surveyed the room. The crowd murmured in hushed whispers and silent mocking chuckles, as if they were celebrating the death of his mother and father.

I know they're after my father's business and power—but why should my mother and aunt be dragged into this mess? He thought, the anger twisting like a knife inside him.

A loud chuckle caught his attention—and unleashed a storm of anger. He shot the man without hesitation. He'd trained under his mother, taught to use a weapon for defense, not killing—but the fire in his chest left no room for restraint. Revenge had already claimed his heart. 

The crowd froze and gasped at what he'd done; even the butler and Gabriel, who arrived late to the funeral, couldn't hide their disbelief. The cold gaze in his eyes sent a shiver down the spines of the old men and his father's subordinates. His eyes... they held nothing but darkness.

“M-Mr Bagrovskiy?!!” the butler said.

“This kid,” murmured through the crowd.

“Fabio?!... What... are you doing?” Gabriel whispered, his voice low and trembling. 

Fabio took a deep breath before speaking, but it did nothing to calm the storm behind his eyes. 

"From now on—! he shouted, his voice shook the room, sharp enough to cut through the noise. 

"I will lead my father's organization and his business." He stood firm, anger written all over his face. The declaration stunned the room. 

"A sixteen-year-old kid? one of his father's rivals scoffed. 

"You expect us to follow a kid?"

 Laughter followed, sharp and mocking. 

"Don't make us laugh." 

The sound snapped something inside him.

 "You insolent—" the butler began, but his words were cut short by a gunshot.

 The old man collapsed, and chaos followed.

Guns were aimed at Fabio, but he remained unmoved. His father's men stepped forward, gun raised—not at him, but for him.

From that night, he carried his father's legacy on his shoulders. He studied, trained, and learned every shadow of the underworld. Whispers of betrayal followed him everywhere—those who wanted him gone, dead, and to take the Bagrovskiy power.