The warning came at dawn.
Vittorio was already awake, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows when his phone vibrated. One glance at the encrypted message tightened every muscle in his body.
VALEN HAS MOVED.
THEY KNOW WHERE SHE IS.
AND THEY KNOW WHO SHE REALLY IS.
His jaw clenched.
So that was it.
They weren't just after leverage anymore.
They were after a crown.
Behind him, Amélie slept restlessly on the couch, curled inward as if her body still expected the world to strike. The sight of her—unguarded, vulnerable—sent a surge of cold fury through him.
They would not touch her again.
Not while he breathed.
Lucien Laurent arrived an hour later.
This time, he did not bring diplomacy.
He brought war.
The estate doors shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the halls. His presence alone shifted the air, heavy with authority and restrained violence.
"You didn't tell her," Lucien said quietly.
Amélie sat upright instantly. "Tell me what?"
Vittorio remained still.
Lucien's eyes met his, sharp and accusing. "You said she didn't know."
"She doesn't," Vittorio replied. "Not fully."
Amélie stood. "I'm right here."
Lucien turned to his daughter, his expression unreadable. "What you survived was not a kidnapping," he said. "It was a test."
Her blood ran cold. "A test for what?"
"For succession."
The word hit like a gunshot.
"Succession?" she repeated. "You're not a king."
Lucien's mouth curved, humorless. "In every way that matters, I am."
Silence swallowed the room.
Vittorio finally spoke. "The Valen Syndicate isn't a normal organization. They dismantle empires and rebuild them under new rulers. They don't destroy power—they inherit it."
Amélie's heart thundered. "Why me?"
Lucien stepped closer. "Because you are not just my daughter."
Her breath hitched.
"You are the last living heir to La Couronne Noire," Lucien said. "The Black Crown."
The room tilted.
"I don't understand," Amélie whispered.
Lucien's voice softened. "Because I never wanted you to."
He took a breath.
"Before there were syndicates, before there were borders, there was an alliance of families who ruled Europe's underworld in absolute unity. The Black Crown sat above them all."
Amélie shook her head. "This is insane."
"The Crown dissolved after betrayal," Lucien continued. "Every heir was hunted. Every bloodline erased."
Vittorio's voice was quiet. "Except one."
Amélie turned to him sharply.
"You," she said. "You knew."
"Yes."
Her chest tightened painfully. "How long?"
"From the moment I saw you," Vittorio admitted. "Your face. Your name. Your father's silence."
Her voice trembled. "So all of this—"
"Was inevitable," Lucien finished. "The Valens have been searching for you for years."
Amélie staggered back. "You used me as bait."
Lucien's face cracked.
"I protected you," he said fiercely. "I buried the crown. I erased records. I turned myself into a monster so no one would look too closely at you."
Tears burned her eyes. "And now?"
Lucien looked at Vittorio.
"Now," he said, "the crown is rising."
The Valen attack came that night.
Not loud.
Not reckless.
Strategic.
Power failed across the estate. Emergency lights flickered on as alarms screamed. Gunfire echoed through the halls as guards mobilized.
"They're inside," Vittorio said coldly.
He grabbed Amélie's hand without hesitation. "Stick with me. No matter what."
She nodded, fear clawing at her chest—but beneath it, something else ignited.
Resolve.
They moved through hidden corridors, bullets tearing through walls behind them. Smoke filled the air.
A masked figure stepped into their path.
"The Crown finally bleeds," the man sneered.
Vittorio fired.
The body hit the ground.
They reached the underground vault just as Lucien sealed the doors behind them.
Inside lay a single object on a velvet pedestal.
A ring.
Black metal. Obsidian stone. Ancient.
The Black Crown's sigil burned into its surface.
Lucien lifted it reverently.
"This was never meant to be mine," he said, holding it out to Amélie. "It belongs to you."
Her hands shook.
"I don't want it."
Lucien's eyes were fierce. "Want doesn't matter anymore."
Vittorio watched her closely.
"You don't have to accept it," he said quietly. "But if you don't, they'll never stop coming."
She looked at him then—not as an enemy, not as a protector—
But as the only person who truly understood the weight she carried.
"What happens if I take it?" she asked.
Vittorio's voice was honest. "You become the most powerful woman in Europe."
"And you?" she asked.
A pause.
"I become your greatest threat," he said. "Or your strongest ally."
She swallowed.
Then she reached out.
The ring slid onto her finger like it had been waiting.
Above them, the estate burned.
Across Europe, factions shifted.
And in that moment, Amélie Laurent stopped being a princess protected by me
And became a ruler the underworld would kneel to.
She looked at Vittorio, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"If I wear this crown," she said, "you don't get to stand against me."
His gaze burned into hers.
"I never planned to."
Their enemies had wanted a war.
Instead, they had awakened an empire.