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Chapter Ten – Alliances and Betrayals
The morning sun barely touched the Rossi villa when Elena received the first message: a sharply worded note slipped under her bedroom door.
"You have no right to this place. Step aside before it's too late."
No signature. Just a threat. But Elena knew who it was from.
She clenched her fists. Isabella. Or Marco. Perhaps both, working in silent unison.
Rosa appeared at the doorway, frowning. "Another one?"
Elena nodded. "They're organizing. I can feel it. Cousins, aunts… everyone who wants me gone is choosing sides."
Rosa's voice was steady, though her eyes carried the weight of years. "Then you must choose yours carefully. Every ally counts, every betrayal cuts deep."
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By midday, Elena began calling meetings in secret. She reached out to cousins who had remained neutral, or who had quietly admired her father's decisions despite family resentment.
There was Lucia, her cousin on her mother's side, often overlooked in family politics but sharp as a blade. There was also Antonio, distant and underestimated, who remembered Elena as a child and had quietly supported her mother's choices.
Together, they formed a small but determined coalition. They exchanged whispers in corners, messages hidden in envelopes, and secret meetings in the villa's library.
Elena felt the thrill of strategy—the kind she had known in New York boardrooms—but here, the stakes were sharper, personal, and dangerous.
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That evening, a Rossi family gathering was called under the pretense of a feast. Elena entered, flanked by her new allies. Isabella and Marco watched, eyes glittering with barely contained malice.
The room was thick with tension. Words were exchanged in polite tones, but every syllable carried knives.
Uncle Vittorio, always hungry for control, leaned forward. "So, Elena, you've gathered your little friends. What is your plan?"
Elena met his gaze evenly. "To keep the vineyard alive. To protect what belongs to all of us. But also to ensure that no one threatens it for personal gain."
Marco's smirk was cold. "You speak as if the Rossi legacy is yours to command. You are merely a guest in this house of blood."
She shook her head. "No. I am family. And I won't let resentment dictate our future."
Aunt Caterina tried to intervene, her words dripping with condescension, but Elena's allies quietly spoke in her support, cutting the room's hostility like a knife through fog.
The tide was shifting. For the first time, Elena felt the power of alliances, of backing beyond her own strength.
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Later, as the hall emptied, Isabella cornered Elena in the grand hallway. Her smile was dangerous, almost sweet.
"You think you can win?" she whispered. "Do you know what the Rossi family does to those who challenge us? We don't just fight. We destroy."
Elena met her gaze without flinching. "Then you'll see. I won't step aside. And neither will anyone who believes in this vineyard."
Isabella's laugh was quiet, venomous. "Then prepare yourself. Betrayals are coming from every direction—even from those you trust."
And with that, she vanished into the shadows of the villa.
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That night, Elena stood alone in her bedroom, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She thought about alliances and enemies, whispers and threats. Every word, every glance, every family member had a hidden edge.
Yet she also felt something else: a fierce clarity.
She wasn't just fighting for the vineyard. She was fighting for herself. For her father's legacy. For the Rossi name—but not the corrupted, bitter version her relatives clung to. She would redefine it.
And if betrayal came, she would face it head-on.
The Rossi family feud was far from over. But Elena Rossi had chosen her side—and she would not falter.
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