Greetings sweet people....
How are you?
Please ignore the typo mistakes
Enjoy!!
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The chatter filled the meeting room, with both new and old investors present, waiting for the Queen to arrive.
The sound of the door opening made everyone pause and look toward the entrance. Sam walked in, wearing sunglasses and an earpiece in his left ear. The click of heels echoed, and soon Hermione entered in all her glory. She sat in the large chair at the center of the table, with Jenny taking a seat nearby.
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The meeting ended sooner than Hermione had expected. Most of the investors were hesitant about working for a woman, but they understood the consequences of expressing those sentiments openly. Mr. Costo was not allowed in, as Hermione had instructed.
Everyone knew she disliked when strangers acted overly friendly with her. She understood that most investors only cared about money, especially since the Allens were the most trusted and profitable company.
She made her way out of the meeting room, followed by Sam and Jenny.
Entering her office, she took her seat. Work had piled up. Now that the hotel branch was opened here, she had to return home to manage the business from headquarters. She needed to check emails and review upcoming projects.
Soon, it was time to head home, as she had to leave tonight with her parents and friends for Milan. A conference regarding the new hotel was taking place, and it was important. The collaboration with Emiliano Company would occur at the main hotel.
As she walked outside, Sam followed closely behind. Some employees smiled at her, and she returned the gesture.
After a peaceful drive to her penthouse, she entered the elevator to reach her floor. Upon entering the living room, she saw Sofia reading a book. Sofia adjusted her glasses, which had slid down her nose.
"Buonasera, Sofi,"
(EveningHermione's soft voice rang in the empty living room, startling Sofia. "Oh, holy cow! You scared me, Vee!" she exclaimed, clutching the book to her chest with wide eyes. Hermione laughed and sat down next to her sister. Sofia side-hugged her, and Hermione pulled her closer, placing a small kiss on the side of her head.
"Why is it so quiet today?" Hermione asked while gently rubbing Sofia's back.
"Mama and Dada are out with Alex and his parents. Carlo is busy with work in his room. Rory and Tori went to the club," Sofia informed her. Hermione hummed lightly, feeling tired but choosing to remain quiet.
"When did Alex's parents arrive in Auckland?" Hermione asked, more to herself than anyone else. Sofia shrugged, not particularly interested in the details. It was past 8, and Hermione got up to make dinner. Sam had left to meet his father, as he would be moving to Milan with Hermione. Eli would accompany Warner as usual.
Suddenly, it struck her that only Carlo, Bianca, and she were at home.
"Sofi, go tell Carl to come down and help prepare dinner," she instructed, and Sofia nodded vigorously, running to drag Carlo out of his room.
Hermione clapped her hands excitedly and walked to the kitchen to see what ingredients were available for dinner. She gathered them on one side of the counter. Soon, Carlo and Sofia joined her. Sofia handed her sister an apron that had “Queen” written on it in cursive. Sofia wore one that said “Dada's Princess,” while Carlo donned an apron that read “Mama's Boy.”
The trio engaged in making dinner, occasionally spilling some ingredients on the floor or counter, laughing, and continuing their efforts.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
"Ned, I tried to trace the phone, but the message came from a burner, and it’s currently untraceable," Dante said, frustration lacing his voice.
Nedvar, Rocco, Aldo, Dante, and Edouard (Nedvar’s father) gathered in the study, the threat to Hermione hanging heavily over them.
“I’ll make sure that the bastard suffers a slow, painful death,” Nedvar growled, his jaw clenched tight, fists balled so hard his nails dug into his palms. Edouard sat silently, his face a mask of calm, watching his son’s rage with no expression, though his eyes reflected the storm brewing inside.
Aldo sat nearby, knowing he couldn’t do much. This was Nedvar’s battle—his duty to protect his dame. The Wyatt's were the most powerful family in the underworld, and if it leaked that the Mafia King couldn’t protect his love, his authority would be questioned.
Rocco remained composed, trusting that Nedvar would figure it out. He knew Hermione wasn’t just any woman—she could defend herself, and she wasn’t afraid to fight back if necessary.
Dante’s focus remained on his laptop, fingers tapping swiftly as he scoured through data. He was a genius when it came to tracking, his skills unmatched even by Nedvar.
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. It creaked open, and Sera peeked in before stepping fully inside.
“Dinner’s ready. Mama called everyone,” she said. Edouard stood first, wordlessly leaving for the dining room. Aldo followed, walking over to his wife. Sera gave Nedvar a reassuring smile as she left with Aldo, his arm protectively wrapped around her waist.
Nedvar watched them go, feeling a brief pang of envy. He admired Aldo and Sera’s bond and knew that one day, he would have something similar with Hermione.
Dinner that night was lively. Sienna filled the room with jokes, and the laughter around the table lightened Nedvar’s mood. He was grateful for the support of his family, always there to lift him up when the weight of the world pressed down on him.
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Days turned into weeks, and the Wyatt family had returned to Milan. Nedvar increased the security detail around Hermione, with six spies silently guarding her at all times.
Reports flooded in daily—photos of Hermione going to work, attending meetings, stopping at stores—there was always someone watching her, but she never seemed to notice. Even Sam, who was usually sharp, hadn’t picked up on anything unusual. Still, the mole was elusive, and Nedvar couldn’t pinpoint who was behind it.
As summer faded, September arrived, bringing cooler days and a touch of warmth from the sun.
Hermione’s work with Rocco had intensified as they prepared for an upcoming photoshoot. They’d chosen one of her hotels in Auckland as the location, ensuring that both her designs and the hotel would benefit. The team on the ground was handling everything well, and Hermione had made several trips to oversee the progress.
Alex, meanwhile, had stayed in Auckland to finish some business, and for that, Hermione was thankful. She prayed that his stay would be long or permanent—anything to avoid her mother pushing her to spend more time with him. If Alex got distracted by another woman, it would be even better, giving her the breathing room she needed. Arguing with her mother was the last thing she wanted.
Nedvar, on the other hand, was neck-deep in his mafia dealings, hunting for the mole, and managing his duties toward Ethan. With so much on his plate, the looming danger had slipped his mind. He’d forgotten that threats could come from anywhere, at any time.
And Hermione had no idea that her relief at Alex staying in Auckland might cost her dearly. Alex had been plotting in the shadows, aligning himself with a man as power-hungry and dangerous as he was. His hatred for Hermione had consumed him to the point where her death was inconsequential, as long as he got his revenge. The man he partnered with had darker intentions—he wanted Hermione to submit, to break her, and watch her beg for mercy.
But neither man understood who they were dealing with. Hermione wasn’t just anyone—she was someone’s love, someone’s queen. And Nedvar wouldn’t rest until he destroyed anyone who dared touch her.
Nedvar didn’t need weapons to make them suffer. His hands alone would be enough to tear their skin from their bones.
“You’ll blacklist me now, Hermione? I’ll make sure you crawl back and beg me to invest in your company,” Alex snarled.
“You said no once, but for the rest of your life, you’ll only say yes—like a scared little kitten.”
An evil laugh echoed through the room, chilling the air.
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